Market Crash, Heart Rush

Jordan stared at the Robinhood chart like it held the meaning of life. His crypto portfolio was down 47% since yesterday, and honestly? He felt like he'd been metaphorically mauled by a bear. Not the cute kind from children's books—the aggressive, market-crushing beast that had been tanking his investments all week.

"You're still watching that?" Maya leaned against his locker, spinning a combination lock around her finger. "It's giving obsession."

"It's giving trying to turn my graduation money into something that won't disappear before college." Jordan sighed, closing the app. "What's up with you?"

"Riley's being extra bull-headed about Promposals again." She rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful. "Apparently if you don't get asked in front of the whole cafeteria with fireworks and a hashtag, it doesn't count."

Jordan snorted. "Remember when he asked Sarah to homecoming with that giant sign? 'I'd be LION if I said no' with like, actual lion face paint?"

"Unfortunately." Maya fished a goldfish cracker from her bag. "Anyway, are you coming to the track meet?"

Track. Right. Jordan had been running varsity since freshman year, the one thing that actually made sense. But lately? Every practice felt like he was sprinting away from something he couldn't name. College apps. Family expectations. The creeping realization that maybe the stoic athlete persona everyone loved wasn't actually, you know, him.

"I don't know," he said. "My knee's been acting weird."

Maya stopped mid-chew. "Since when?"

"Since..." Jordan waved vaguely. "Awhile."

They both knew what he meant. Since he'd started questioning everything. Since the pressure had built up like a shaken soda can. Since he'd realized he couldn't keep running from himself.

"You know," Maya said quietly, "there's this TikTok about goldfish having three-second memories. But apparently that's fake? They actually remember stuff for months."

"Why are we discussing fish memory?"

"Because you think everything has to be perfect and permanent." She punched his shoulder lightly. "But you're allowed to forget stuff. Make mistakes. Lose some money on crypto. It's not the end of the world."

A bell rang in the distance.

"Track meet's in twenty," Maya said. "Coach said if you're not there, he's assuming you're dead."

Jordan looked at his phone one last time—the red numbers, the chaos, the illusion that any of this actually mattered. Then he put it in his pocket.

"You know what?" He stood up. "I think I'm gonna go for a run."