The Goldfish Code

Maya pressed her sweating **palm** against her thigh, trying to look casual as she leaned against the kitchen island. House parties weren't exactly her vibe, but when your best friend basically drags you out of the house because "we need to socialize more," you show up.

The popular kids moved through the living room like **zombie**s — same practiced laughs, same fake-everything conversations, endless loop of performative coolness. Maya felt like a total **spy** observing an alien species. She'd been **running** from this exact moment since middle school, that terrible weight of not fitting in, of never knowing the right thing to say.

Then she saw him.

Tall, awkward, staring into a **goldfish** bowl on the counter like it contained the secrets of the universe. His glasses were slightly crooked. Something about him made her abandon her post.

"They're literally just swimming in circles," she said, appearing beside him.

He jumped slightly, then grinned. "I know, right? But have you ever noticed how they never get tired of it? That's kind of iconic, honestly."

Maya laughed — a real one, not the fake one she'd been using all night. "I'm Maya."

"Leo. You're the first person who's actually talked to me like I'm a real person tonight, not just some awkward background character."

"Same," she admitted. "I was literally conducting surveillance from the kitchen for twenty minutes before you rescued me."

"Wanna bail? There's a taco truck three blocks down."

Maya looked around at the zombie party, then back at Leo's crooked glasses and genuine smile. "Absolutely."

They slipped out the back door, running toward something real.