Swimming in Circles

The goldfish sat on my desk, staring at me with those dead-eyed fish looks. His name was Chad, because apparently that's what you name a rescue fish when you're sixteen and trying too hard.

"You going to Maya's party?" asked Leo, leaning against my doorframe. Leo, who had somehow maintained his social status through two grade levels and still looked good in everything.

"Maybe," I said, spinning in my chair. "Depends. Is the pool actually clean?"

He laughed. "Dude, it's Maya. Her parents are basically rich. The water's probably filtered through diamonds."

I didn't mention that I hadn't been to a pool party since seventh grade, when I wore the wrong swimsuit and someone commented on my shoulders. That was two years ago, but the memory still felt like chlorine in my nose.

"My mom got me these vitamins," I said instead, gesturing to the orange bottle on my desk. "She says I need to focus more on self-care."

"Self-care?" Leo raised an eyebrow. "Since when is that a thing for you?"

"Since I realized staying up till 3am scrolling TikTok isn't a personality trait."

The party was everything I expected: too many people, too much noise, and definitely not enough pizza. Kids I'd known since elementary school were splashing around in the crystal blue water like they owned the place. Maya waved from the pool, her smile bright and effortless. I stood on the deck, clutching my towel like a safety blanket.

Then I saw Chad—the human Chad—by the snack table, laughing with his friends like he hadn't spent all last year making my life miserable in third period. Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the vitamin supplements finally kicking in, or maybe I was just tired of feeling like the world was swimming laps around me.

I dropped my towel.

The water hit me like ice, but I kept going. Deep breath, dive down. Silence underwater. Just me and the blue and the way my body moved through something that wanted to hold me back. When I surfaced, gasping, everyone was staring.

"What?" I said, wiping water from my eyes. "Never seen a girl exist before?"

Maya whooped. Someone tossed me a pool noodle. And just like that, I wasn't the quiet girl in the corner anymore. I was part of the noise, part of the mess, part of everything.

Later that night, I sat at my desk, feeding Chad the fish a pinch of flakes. He swam to the top, opened his tiny mouth, and I swear it looked like he was smiling.

"You're not so bad," I told him. "But you're still not getting a better name."