Scales and Second Chances

Maya's palms were sweating. Again. She wiped them on her denim shorts—something she'd been doing all morning—but it didn't help. The guy at the carnival palm-reading booth, who looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, sighed dramatically.

"You know, this works better if your hands aren't slip-n-sliding all over my table," he said, not looking up from his phone.

"Sorry." Maya's voice squeaked. Because of course it did. Because her life was basically a compilation of every embarrassing teen movie moment, except without the makeover montage at the end where she becomes cool and gets the guy.

Her friends were behind her, waiting. Chloe was already talking to that cute guy from the grade above them, tossing her perfect mermaid waves like she was in a shampoo commercial. Meanwhile, Maya's frizzy curls were doing their best impression of a tumbleweed.

"Your lifeline shows..." The palm reader squinted at her hand, "that you're going to kiss someone before the summer ends. But he's going to have terrible breath."

Maya snatched her hand back. "That's it? That's your big prophecy?"

"Hey, I'm giving you realistic expectations. Also, you're going to win a fish."

"A fish?"

"A goldfish. His name will be Gerald. You will love him more than you've ever loved anyone. And he will die in three weeks." He shrugged. "That'll be fifteen dollars."

Two hours later, Maya stood at the carnival entrance holding a plastic bag with a confused-looking goldfish swimming inside. Gerald. She'd actually won him at that rigged ring toss game because the carnival worker took pity on her after she'd spent twenty dollars and made a speech about how her life was basically a series of almost-wins and near-misses.

Chloe had ditched her to go to some party with Cute Guy and her other friends. So here was Maya, fifteen years old, at a carnival by herself, with a fish who apparently had three weeks to live.

But then—

"Is that... is that a goldfish?"

She turned. There was that guy from her biology class, the one who always sat in the back and made sarcastic comments during dissections. What was his name? Liam? Leo?

"His name is Gerald," Maya said, raising her chin. "And he's going to die in three weeks."

The guy—definitely Leo—blinked. "That is... oddly specific."

"Palm reader told me. Also that I'm going to kiss someone with bad breath, so that's something to look forward to."

Leo laughed. And not in a mean way. His hair was messy in a way that looked intentional, like he'd spent time making it look like he'd just rolled out of bed. Maya immediately hated how cute she found it.

"My mom says goldfish only die if you overfeed them," he said. "I could help you not kill him? If you wanted."

Maya looked at Gerald, swimming in lazy circles. Then at Leo, with his stupid cute hair and his actual offer to help.

"I have to go to a party with terrible people," she heard herself say. "Do you want to come instead?"

Leo grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

As they walked away from the carnival lights, Maya realized her palms weren't sweating anymore. And for the first time in forever, she felt like the main character in her own story—not the awkward sidekick with frizzy hair and bad luck.

Gerald swam on, oblivious to the fact that he'd just changed everything.