Lightning in a Plastic Bag

Maya stood at the edge of Jake's pool party, clutching a plastic bag like it was a lifeline. Inside, a carnival goldfish swam in tiny circles, oblivious to the social disaster that was Maya's life.

The air smelled like chlorine and coconut sunscreen. Everyone was in the water, laughing, splashing, being normal. Maya, meanwhile, was fully clothed on the deck, her vintage SpongeBob shirt already feeling like a mistake.

Especially since Jake kept looking at her.

Her phone buzzed. Mom again: *Did you take your vitamin D? You know how you get in winter.* Maya rolled her eyes so hard it practically hurt. Jake caught her doing it and cracked a smile.

"Rough day?" he called from the pool.

"My mom's convinced I'm developing rickets," Maya said, and immediately regretted it. Who says rickets?

Jake laughed though. Actual laugh. "My mom used to make me take these gummy multivitamins that tasted like chalk. I'd hide them in houseplants."

The connection hit like lightning.

Then actual lightning flashed across the sky, sudden and blinding. The pool went dead silent. Someone screamed. A crack of thunder shook the deck.

"Everyone inside!" Jake's dad shouted from the patio. "Cable's out anyway, might as well hang out in the living room!"

The party migrated indoors, leaving Maya alone on the deck with her goldfish. The water in the bag was getting warm. She needed to get this fish home, but her ride wasn't coming for another hour.

Jake appeared in the sliding door, towel around his neck, hair dripping. "You coming?"

"I can't leave him here." Maya gestured to the bag. "He'll die."

"Who?"

"The goldfish. I won him at the ring toss and my mom said no pets, so..."

Jake stared at her, then at the fish, then back at her. "You've been carrying around a carnival fish for three hours?"

"He has nowhere else to go!"

"Okay, that's actually kind of awesome." Jake stepped onto the deck. "Let me grab a bowl from the kitchen. He can crash here until you figure it out."

The way he said it - *crash here* - like the fish was some displaced friend. Maya felt something warm and fizzing in her chest, completely unrelated to the storm.

Jake returned with a glass bowl filled with fresh water. He carefully transferred the goldfish, which immediately swam to the bottom and hid behind a decorative rock.

"Traitor," Maya whispered.

"He's just overwhelmed," Jake said. "New environment, scary weather, teenage fish existential crisis." He looked at her then, really looked at her. "Kind of like someone else I know."

Maya's face burned. "I'm not overwhelmed."

"You're at a pool party fully dressed, carrying a fish in a bag, hiding from everyone. Your vibe is definitely overwhelmed."

"Fair."

They sat on the deck furniture while the storm rained itself out around them. Jake told her about his dad's aquarium hobby. Maya admitted she'd never actually won anything at a carnival before. Jake confessed he'd been wanting to talk to her all summer but didn't know how.

"You could've just said hi," Maya pointed out.

"And risk looking like a loser? No thanks."

"So you wait for a lightning storm and a displaced goldfish to make your move? Smooth."

Jake grinned. "What can I say? I work with the universe gives me."

Her phone buzzed again. Mom, with another vitamin reminder.

Maya silenced it.

The goldfish swam out from behind the rock, finally exploring its new home.

"Hey," Jake said. "Maybe after the storm, we could walk him back to your place? Together?"

Maya looked at him, at the fish, at the rain still falling soft around them. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Some days, the universe gave you lightning. And some days, it gave you a fish in a bag and a boy who noticed you were carrying it.