The Fake Fish Incident

Maya's phone buzzed on her nightstand at 7:13 AM — way too early for a Saturday. She groaned, reaching blindly until her fingers closed around her **iPhone**. The screen illuminated her dark room with a blinding notification: *YOUR SHIFT STARTS IN 47 MINUTES.*

Freshly sixteen and employed at Pet Paradise, Maya was living the dream. If by "dream" you meant smelling like processed fish food and answering questions like "Do goldfish have feelings?" for eight dollars an hour.

"You're gonna be late!" her little brother Leo yelled from downstairs. "And Mom made your favorite — **spinach** smoothies!"

Maya rolled out of bed. Spinach smoothies were part of her mom's new health kick phase. Last month it was kale everything. Before that, the entire family had to take these massive **vitamin** supplements that made Leo gag dramatically every morning. Maya barely escaped that ritual by "forgetting" to swallow.

At work, her coworker Devon was already there, leaning against the wall looking unfairly put-together for someone who worked at a pet store.

"Sup," he said, barely looking up from his own phone.

"Hey." Maya headed straight for the aquarium section. That's when she saw it — the new delivery of fancy **goldfish** had arrived. But something was wrong.

One fish was floating sideways.

"Devon," she called out. "We've got a floater."

He sauntered over. "Huh. That's not great."

"That's a两百-dollar fish, Devon!"

Maya's stomach dropped. She'd only been working there three weeks. What if she got fired? What if she had to explain to her parents that she lost her job because of a dead fish? What if this went on her permanent record?

"Wait," Devon said, squinting. "I think he's just sleeping."

"Fish don't sleep sideways."

"Some do! Watch." Devon tapped the glass.

The fish didn't move.

Maya's hands were shaking. This was it. Her first job, over before it really began. She'd have to go back to begging her parents for allowance. She'd have to start drinking the spinach smoothies again.

"I'll take care of it," Devon said suddenly. "Don't worry about it."

"But what if—"

"Maya." He looked at her, really looked at her. "It's one fish. We've got like, fifty more in that tank. Nobody's gonna fire you over a sleeping fish."

The bell chimed — first customers of the day.

"Besides," Devon added with a tiny grin, "if anyone asks, we say it's meditating."

Maya let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Meditating fish."

"Transcendental, obviously."

For the first time since she'd started working there, Maya laughed — really laughed. And when her phone buzzed later that afternoon with a text from her mom asking if she wanted another spinach smoothie, she typed back: *Actually yes. Save me one.*

Maybe today wasn't so terrible after all.