Keeper of the Cosmic Goldfish

I looked like a zombie, but honestly? That was the goal.

Homecoming week, and I'd gone full undead chic — pale foundation, dark circles, fake blood dripping artfully down my chin. My friends said I looked extra dead, which honestly felt accurate after finals week burned my brain to a crisp.

"Your makeup's actually fire, Maya," Leo said, examining his reflection in the fish tank beside us. "Too bad my goldfish has a longer attention span than me. I already forgot what period we're in."

"Fourth. And Mr. Harrison's gonna roast you if you don't turn in that essay."

Leo groaned. "That assignment is actual bull. Why do I need to analyze ancient riddles? It's not like I'm gonna use that in the real world."

I laughed, but something felt off. Leo kept glancing toward the hallway where Sarah and her friends always gathered. The popular crowd. The ones who moved through school like they owned every corridor, every classroom, every breath of air in this building.

"You're doing it again," I said.

"Doing what?"

"Playing secret spy. Just talk to her, Leo."

His face turned the color of a bad sunburn. "I'm not spying! I just... happen to need water from that fountain. Every time we walk past it."

"You don't even drink from it. You just stand there like you're guarding it."

"Whatever. Hey, aren't you supposed to be at Sphinx practice?"

I almost spit out my metaphorical drink. "First of all, we call it Academic Team. Second of all, Coach Anderson said the questions this year are gonna be brutal. Something about ancient civilizations and impossible riddles."

"Sounds fun," Leo said, completely deadpan.

"Actually? It kinda is." I paused. "We're studying Egypt's myths. There's this story about the Sphinx — how it guarded knowledge, how it demanded truth before letting anyone pass. I feel like that, sometimes. Like I'm guarding something but I don't even know what."

"That's deep." Leo actually looked thoughtful for once, which was rare. "Maybe we're all guarding something. Maybe Sarah is too."

"You think the popular kids have secrets?"

"Maya." He gave me this look. "Everyone has secrets. That's literally the whole point of being seventeen. You think your goldfish is stressed? Try being a human."

Something about his words hit me different. Not deep, exactly, but true. The kind of truth that settles in your chest like a slow heartbeat.

That afternoon, I found Sarah crying in the library bathroom. The girl who seemingly had everything — the perfect hair, the perfect clothes, the perfect life — shaking like a leaf, makeup streaking down her face.

I didn't spy. I didn't run away like some scared kid either.

"Hey," I said. "You okay?"

She looked up, eyes red-rimmed and impossibly wide. For a second, I saw something completely unexpected — not the Sphinx guarding secrets, but another girl just trying to survive the maze. Another goldfish swimming in circles, wondering if the glass would ever break.

"No," she said. "But I think I will be."

And somehow, that felt like enough.

Later, Leo found me sitting on the library steps. "You missed Academic Team practice," he said. "Coach Anderson was looking for you."

"I know."

"Everything cool?"

"Yeah." I thought about Sarah's red-rimmed eyes, about Leo's not-so-secret spying, about the way we all moved through school like zombies, guarding our secrets like Sphinxes, pretending we had it all figured out when really we were just goldfish swimming in circles, hoping someone would finally notice we were drowning.

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"You should talk to her. Tomorrow."

"Sarah?"

"Yeah. I think she might need a friend who actually sees her."

He smiled, actually smiled. "Maybe. But first — can you help me with that Sphinx essay? I think I'm finally starting to get it."

"Absolutely," I said. "But you're buying me boba. Being a genius is hungry work."

He laughed, and something about the sound felt like hope — small, fragile, but real.

We weren't zombies anymore. We were just beginning.