The Goldfish Apocalypse

Maya felt like a zombie walking through the school hallway, her brain fried from three hours of sleep and that history test she'd definitely failed. Her iPhone buzzed in her pocket—probably another group chat blowing up about Jake's party tonight, the one she wasn't invited to. Again.

"You look dead," said Chloe, popping a neon orange gummy vitamin supplement like it was candy. "Want one? These things are supposed to, like, boost your immune system or whatever."

Maya waved her off. "I'm good. Just tired."

"You're always tired lately." Chloe leaned against Maya's locker, perfectly manicured nails tapping against the metal. "You should come tonight. Jake said everyone's going."

Yeah, right. Everyone except her. Maya grabbed her geometry textbook and turned toward class.

The school had just installed this massive art installation in the courtyard—a glass pyramid sculpture thing that was supposed to represent "knowledge rising upward" or some pretentious BS. But really, it just reflected everyone back at themselves, distorted and weird.

Maya sat on the bench beside it, watching her own fractured reflection. She felt small, like her pet goldfish back home, swimming in circles inside that tiny bowl, hitting the glass walls over and over, forgetting she'd already been there five seconds ago.

"Hey."

She jumped. It was Jake, standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking nervous.

"I, um, I wanted to ask if you're coming tonight," he said. "Like, actually ask. Not just assume you heard about it."

Maya stared at him. "Wait—you're inviting me?"

"Yeah? I mean, I've been trying to talk to you all week, but you're always, like, speed-walking away." Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "So?"

Maybe she wasn't a zombie. Maybe she'd just been sleepwalking through her own life, hitting the glass walls of her own goldfish bowl, forgetting she could just jump.

"Yeah," Maya said, feeling something click into place, like her immune system finally getting the vitamin it had been missing. "Yeah, I'll be there."

The pyramid reflected them both back—distorted, yeah, but together.