Pyramid Schemes and Goldfish Dreams

Maya's older cousin Javier was twenty-two and had already failed at three startups, but that didn't stop him from cornering her at Tía Elena's backyard barbecue. The air smelled like charcoal and chlorine, and palm fronds rustled overhead as Javier launched into his speech about this amazing new opportunity. It was totally a pyramid scheme, but Maya just nodded because she was supposed to be watching the three-year-old twins.

"Your palm tells me you're destined for greatness," Javier said, grabbing her hand dramatically. "Also, you need to buy these protein shakes."

Maya pulled away. "Bruh, you said the same thing about those NFTs."

She escaped toward the kiddie pool where the twins were terrorizing a plastic goldfish that had somehow survived three summers of abuse. The plastic goldfish floated on its side, looking like it had truly given up on life. Maya felt that. Junior year was eating her alive—AP classes, track practice, student council, and now everyone expected her to know exactly what college she wanted to attend. Her older cousins kept asking about her "five-year plan" like she was supposed to have her whole life mapped out at sixteen.

"Maya! Míranos!" Leo screamed, splashing water everywhere.

The goldfish bobbed toward her, half-submerged and judging her life choices.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Kai: Pool party @ Marcus's tonight. U coming?

Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to function. Kai, who she'd had a crush on since seventh grade, was finally noticing she existed. But she'd promised her mom she'd help organize the quinceañera prep for her cousin Sofia, and there was no way her mom would let her bail for some random party.

She stared at the goldfish, suddenly envying its simple existence. Float. Get splashed. Exist.

"Maya!" Javier was back. "I'm not taking no for an answer. Think about your future!"

The twins started chanting "Future! Future!" while splashing more water.

Maya looked at her palm—ridiculous to think a line on her hand could determine anything. Then she grabbed the goldfish from the pool, dripping and plastic and perfect, and handed it to Javier.

"You know what? I'll buy in. But I'm paying with this goldfish. It's clearly a survivor."

Javier stared at her. "What?"

"Exactly. Now let me finish watching these heathens before I start my own pyramid scheme. It'll be called Avoiding Responsibility LLC."

She texted Kai back: wyd tmrw? And for the first time all day, the weight in her chest felt a little lighter, like something might actually be starting instead of ending.