The Carnival After Midnight

Maya's mouth tasted like spinach. Not the actual leafy greens she'd forced herself to eat at dinner because her mom said it'd help her skin, but that specific gross-aftertaste you get when something healthy ruins your vibe.

She adjusted her glasses in the carnival mirror. Behind her reflection, strings of lights blurred like the time she'd cried watching her favorite character die on Netflix. Three hours ago, this place had been popping. Now it was just her, Leo, and the guy running the goldfish booth who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"You're being dramatic," Leo said, leaning against the concession stand. Her best friend since seventh grade, back when they'd both worn those embarrassing rubber bracelets and thought accessorizing meant everything.

"I'm not being dramatic. I'm having an existential crisis. There's a difference." Maya crossed her arms. "He didn't even look at me during the game."

"Brandon? The guy who literally doesn't know you exist?"

"Rude. Also, he almost looked at me when I dropped my popcorn."

Lightning cracked across the sky, sudden and sharp. The first storm of September. The carnival lights flickered like they were deciding whether to give up or keep pretending everything was fine.

"You should do it," Leo said suddenly.

"Do what?"

"Talk to him. Or message him. Or literally anything except standing here looking like you're waiting for a bus that's never coming."

Maya snorted. "That's the worst advice I've ever gotten."

"I'm your friend. I'm supposed to give bad advice. It's in the job description."

The goldfish in the booth's plastic bags swam in circles. Tiny orange lives in temporary homes, stuck going round and round like Maya's thoughts about Brandon's messy hair and that time he'd held the door open for her after English class.

She pulled out her phone. Her fingers hovered over his contact — added weeks ago when they'd been assigned to the same group project. She'd never actually messaged him. What would she even say? "Hey, nice existing"?

"You're being a bull," Leo said softly. "All stubborn and stuck in your own head."

Maya stared at her phone screen. Lightning flashed again, closer this time. Thunder rumbled like the sky was clearing its throat.

"Fine," she said. Her thumbs moved fast. "Hey! Saw you at the game tonight. You played really well."

They stood there in the half-empty carnival as the first raindrops fell. Three dots appeared on her screen. Then more.

"He's typing," Maya whispered. "He's actually typing."

The goldfish swam on. The spinach taste in her mouth was forgotten. Everything was about to change, and Maya wasn't sure if that was terrifying or exactly what she'd been waiting for.

Her phone buzzed. "Thanks! I thought I saw you there. You going to homecoming?"

Maya looked at Leo. Leo grinned.

"Yeah," Maya typed back. "I think I am."

The rain started falling harder, but neither of them moved to run for cover.