The Chlorine-Hearted Zombie

My goldfish was floating at the top of the bowl again. Not dead-dead, just doing that thing where he hovered near the surface like he was waiting for someone to drop some serious knowledge. Or food. Probably food.

"He's basically a zombie fish," Maya said from where she was sprawled across my bed, scrolling through TikTok with the volume way too high. "Like, technically alive but emotionally deceased. Goals, honestly."

I threw a pillow at her. She didn't even look up.

It was the third day of sophomore year, and I was already having an existential crisis about my locker combination, my haircut, and the fact that I'd accidentally worn the same shirt as Tyler from AP Bio. The same Tyler I'd been lowkey crushing on since seventh grade, back when he still had braces and a unibrow situation. Now he was six-foot-one and played lacrosse and had somehow learned to use conditioner.

"Your mom wants you to eat something," Maya said, finally looking up from her phone. "She left spinach dip in the fridge. Or whatever that green stuff is."

"It's not spinach dip, it's literally just spinach leaves," I said. "Because apparently we're a health-conscious household now."

"Bold of her to assume you consume vegetables that aren't deep-fried."

I glared at her but also kind of wanted a snack, so I went downstairs anyway. The kitchen was empty except for a note on the counter: "Dinner at 7. Love, Mom" with a little heart drawn next to it, because she was extra like that.

The spinach sat in a plastic container looking aggressively healthy and judgmental. I grabbed a handful and shoved it in my mouth like a challenge, immediately regretting everything. It tasted like wet grass and disappointment.

"You okay there?" Maya appeared in the doorway, looking suspicious.

"I'm experiencing personal growth," I said, trying to chew without crying.

"You look like a zombie who just ate a salad farm."

"That's exactly what I'm going for."

The doorbell rang, and Maya's eyes went wide.

"Is that—"

"No way."

"Yes way."

We both sprinted for the door because we were both dramatic and seventeen and everything felt like life or death back then. I tripped over my own feet and Maya got there first, flinging it open like she was expecting a prize patrol.

Tyler stood there holding a Tupperware container.

"Hey," he said. "Your mom said you forgot your lunch again?"

I stared at him. My mom had what now.

"Also," he continued, "I noticed your goldfish looked kinda rough at school during that one bring-your-pet-to-health-class day in seventh grade, so I looked up how to fix them. You're supposed to change like, half the water every week and not overfeed them. Mine lived for five years after I started doing that."

Maya made a noise that sounded like a dying duck.

"Anyway," Tyler said, suddenly super interested in his shoes, "I thought maybe you'd want to know. Since he seemed cool. For a fish."

"Yeah," I said, my voice doing this weird thing where it came out higher than normal. "That's actually really helpful. Thank you."

"No problem. Also, you have spinach in your teeth."

He walked away before I could die of embarrassment, which honestly felt like a mercy.

"Well," Maya said, shutting the door and turning to me with a huge grin. "At least we know he's observant."

"I hate both of you," I said, but I was already planning to change the fish water later. And maybe eat less spinach in front of boys. Maybe.