Sweaty Palms and Polar Bears

My palms were sweating so much I could barely grip my solo cup. First high school party, and I was hiding in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror like some pathetic character in a coming-of-age movie.

"You got this, Maya," I whispered. "Just be chill. Be normal."

Normal. Right. Because normal people definitely practiced party conversations in the bathroom mirror.

The house was packed - someone's parents were out of town, obviously. California modern with a **palm** tree in the front yard that I'd spent five minutes staring at instead of going inside. Now that I was finally here, I wanted to bail. My brain was pulling that thing where it replayed every awkward social interaction from middle school while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest.

I finally left the bathroom and immediately got separated from my only friend, Jenna, who was already talking to some seniors by the snack table. Great. I drifted toward the backyard and found a **cat** crouched under a lounge chair - some random calico that looked like it was judging everyone at the party.

"Same," I whispered to it.

"Did you just apologize to a cat?"

I jumped and turned around. A guy in a hoodie was standing there, smirking. He had messy brown hair and the kind of confident smile that made me forget my own name for a second.

"No," I said way too quickly. "Maybe. It was having a moment."

"Cool." He sat on the edge of the pool and gestured for me to join him. "I'm Marcus. That's Luna, by the way." He pointed at the cat. "She's an introvert."

"Maya," I said, sitting down carefully. "And apparently I relate to cats now."

We talked for twenty minutes about everything and nothing - weird teachers, our mutual fear of driving tests, how high school felt like a weird experiment in social Darwinism. My palms had stopped sweating. I was actually, for the first time all night, having fun.

"Hey," Marcus said suddenly. "Wanna see something weird?"

"...Sure?"

He opened his backpack and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with water. Inside was a tiny **goldfish**.

"I rescued it from a carnival game booth," he said. "My mom won't let me have pets, so I'm basically living double lives with this guy. Name's Bubbles, obviously."

I laughed. "You're carrying a fish around at a party? That's either the coolest or weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"Both," he said. "Hey, you should come to the arcade with me tomorrow. Help me win Bubbles a friend."

Something warm bubbled in my chest. "I'd like that."

"Awesome." He stood up and pulled something else from his backpack - a literal **bear** ear headband that someone must left at the party. He put it on. "Now I'm Bear Marcus. It's my alter ego."

"You're ridiculous," I said, but I was grinning so hard my face hurt.

"You like it," he said. "And you promised to help me win another fish. That's basically a marriage contract in some cultures."

"In which cultures exactly?"

"Don't worry about it."

We sat there until Jenna finally found us, looking relieved. "There you are! I thought you got kidnapped or something."

"Better," I said. "I made a friend and got adopted into a secret fish-smuggling operation."

Marcus texted me the next morning with: "Bubbles says hi. Also arcade at 3?"

I replied: "Tell Bubbles I'll be there. 🐟"

My palms didn't sweat once.