Neon Lightning at the End of the World

The summer before freshman year, I spent every afternoon at the community pool, mostly because it was free and air-conditioned, and partially because I was avoiding the inevitable group chat about whose house we were hitting up that night. I'd developed a serious zombie vibe from staying up until 3 AM doomscrolling—eyes glazed, limbs heavy, brain operating on autopilot.

That Tuesday, the pool was practically empty. Just me, some lane hog in a bright orange swim cap doing laps like she was training for the Olympics, and a handful of little kids who kept losing their pool noodles. I was floating on my back, staring up at the skylights, when something weird caught my eye.

A goldfish. Not a metaphorical one—like, an actual living goldfish, swimming near the surface like it owned the place. I did a double take. Since when did they have live fish in the pool? Was this some kind of experimental ecosystem?

The orange-cap girl swam over and stopped beside me. She had this intense, focus-mode energy that made me want to actually exist for once. "You see him too?"

"The goldfish?" I blinked. "Am I hallucinating from sleep deprivation?"

"Probably." She smirked. "But he's real. His name is Gerald. Someone dropped him off last week—said they couldn't keep him anymore. Now he just kinda... lives here."

I looked at Gerald, doing his little fishy thing, completely unbothered by the chlorine and the chaos. "That's oddly inspirational. Just vibing despite everything."

"Right?" She pushed off the wall, started doing lazy laps alongside me. "I'm Maya, by the way."

"Leo."

We ended up talking for two hours while Gerald swam circles around us. Maya had just moved here, didn't know anyone, and was pretending to be confident about starting high school in three weeks. I admitted I was terrified my friend group was slowly drifting apart and that I didn't know who I was without them.

Then the weather shifted. Outside, lightning cracked the sky open—purple, electric, the kind that makes everything feel cinematic and temporary. The pool lights flickered.

"Storm's rolling in," Maya said, toweling off. "You should come to my place tomorrow. We can play Mario Kart and figure out this whole high school thing together."

I walked home in the rain, zombie-mode officially cancelled, feeling like maybe the scariest parts of growing up were also the ones where you found your people. Gerald, wherever you are, I hope you're still just vibing.