Goldfish Summer Secrets

Maya's bedroom was her sanctuary, especially with Boots—the massive orange goldfish who'd witnessed everything from her first braces disaster to last night's panic attack about Tyler's party. Boots did that judgmental fish-surface-break thing while Maya stared at her reflection, contemplating the hair situation again.

"You think I should dye it?" she asked Boots. "Like, actually commit to the full edge-lord purple?"

Boots blew a bubble. Maya took that as a maybe.

Her phone buzzed. CHLOE: u coming??? Tyler's literally asking about u

Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to organs. Because here's the thing—she'd been lowkey cyber-stalking Tyler for three weeks, which sounded way creepier than it actually was when you phrased it that way. She preferred "thorough social media research." Like a spy. But a cute spy. Not a creepy one.

The papaya incident happened freshman year. She'd told everyone she loved exotic fruit to seem sophisticated, then spent ten minutes furiously Googling "how to eat papaya without looking like you're about to vom" because it tasted like soap-covered sadness. Tyler had laughed—not mean-laughed, but actual laughed, said his little sister had the exact same face when she first tried it.

She hadn't even spoken to him since. But she'd watched his Instagram stories religiously.

Maya grabbed her phone. CHLOE: omw

She caught her reflection again. The purple was fine. Actually, no—the purple was everything.

"You're right, Boots," she said, grabbing her backpack. "We're doing this."

The goldfish did another judgmental surface break.

"Okay but what if I say something weird? What if he brings up papaya?"

Boots just swam in a circle, which Maya chose to interpret as "you're overthinking it, bestie, go live your life."

And maybe she was. Maybe being fifteen meant spending half your time overanalyzing text messages and the other half confiding in a fish who literally had a three-second memory span. But Maya grabbed her door handle anyway.

Tonight could be amazing. Or it could be a disaster.

Either way, Boots would still be here tomorrow, and somehow, that made everything less terrifying.