Palm Reading, Goldfish, and the End of the World

Maya's palms were sweating so much she could barely grip the steering wheel. Great. Just great. Her dad's car, her responsibility, and she was about to commit her first felony: breaking into her own house because she'd locked her keys inside. Again.

"You're literally vibrating," said Jordan, flopping across the passenger seat like the drama queen he was. "Chill. We'll figure it out."

Easy for him to say. Jordan wasn't the one whose parents had trust issues because of... well, everything.

Maya's phone buzzed. Her mom: "How's the fish sitting?"

The fish. The GOLDFISH. The one she was supposed to be feeding while her parents were away for the weekend. The one that was definitely, probably dead by now because she'd forgotten to feed it yesterday. And possibly the day before.

"It's fine," she texted back, her thumb hovering over the send button like a coward. "Swimming happily."

She hadn't checked in two days.

"You look like a ZOMBIE," Jordan said, scrolling through TikTok. "When was the last time you slept?"

" finals week happened to me, Jordan. Finals. Week."

That was a lie. She'd been up late doomscrolling, overthinking everything—her future, her GPA, why Lucas had sat at her table yesterday then completely ghosted her today. The social battery was at 1%. The existential crisis was at 100%.

"So about the breaking-and-entering situation," Jordan said. "I watched this YouTube video—"

"Absolutely not."

"—where this guy used a credit card to—"

"Jordan, no."

But they were already at the back door, and Jordan was sliding his student ID through the crack like he was in some low-stakes heist movie. The door popped open with a click that felt loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"Ta-da!" Jordan bowed. "Your welcome."

They tiptoed through the kitchen like criminals, which technically, they sort of were. Maya made a beeline for the living room where the fish bowl sat on the side table, tragic and still.

"Oh no," she whispered. "No, no, no."

The goldfish was floating at the top. Not moving. Definitely dead.

"That's a goner," Jordan said, unhelpfully.

"My parents are going to kill me. Not literally. But metaphorically. They loved this fish. His name was Bubbles, Jordan. BUBBLES."

"Okay, crisis mode activated." Jordan pulled out his phone. "Pet store closes in twenty minutes. We can buy a replacement."

"They'll know!"

"Not if we get the same kind. Goldfish all look the same. It's like, their whole thing."

Maya stared at her sweaty PALM, then at the dead fish, then at Jordan who was already typing the address into Google Maps. And suddenly she was laughing, this crazy snort-laugh that burst out because the situation was so ridiculous. She was about to commit fish fraud. This was her life now.

"What?" Jordan asked, grinning. "You laughing at my brilliant plan?"

"We're literally the worst," she said, wiping her eyes. "Let's go. But we're getting the healthier-looking ones this time."

"Way ahead of you," he said, grabbing the keys she'd finally retrieved from the table. "I'm driving. You're on AUX."

Maya slid into the passenger seat, heart still racing but different now. Less anxiety, more adrenaline. She picked up her phone, scrolled through her playlist, and felt something she hadn't felt all week: like everything might actually be okay.

Even if they were about to commit fraud with a goldfish.

Even if Lucas was being weird.

Even if she had no idea what she was doing with her life.

She was seventeen. She wasn't supposed to have it figured out yet. That was the whole point.

"Jordan?" she called as he backed out of the driveway. "You're a good friend."

"I know," he said, like it was obvious. "Now put on that sad girl playlist you love. We've got a fish to replace."