The Goldfish in the Pool

Maya stood at the edge of the concrete pool, her towel wrapped tight around her like armor. The water glowed that artificial blue that only exists in suburban backyards, filled with people she barely knew but definitely needed to impress.

"You coming in or what?" yelled Jordan, her new friend from AP Bio, who had somehow already mastered the art of treading water while looking effortlessly cool.

"Yeah, just... warming up," Maya lied, even though it was ninety degrees in the shade. She'd been dodging pool parties since seventh grade, back when someone pointed out the spinach stuck in her braces duringPicture Day. The memory still made her stomach twist.

But Jordan had actually invited her. Called her a "real one" when Maya helped her cram for that chemistry test. And now Jordan was floating there with the popular crowd, waiting.

Maya dropped her towel and slid into the pool. The shock of cold water hit her like an ice bath to the chest. She started swimming toward the group, doing her best approximation of a casual stroke even though she felt like a flailing mess.

"Hey!" Jordan called out. "This is everyone. This is Maya."

Heads turned. She was in it now.

"Nice to finally meet you," said some guy with headphones around his neck. "Jordan said you're funny."

"I try," Maya said, treading water like her life depended on it. Her legs were starting to burn.

"So what's your deal?" a girl with rainbow toenails asked. "Like, what do you do?"

The question hung there like a challenge. What did she do? She existed. She overthought everything. She had a pet goldfish named Fin who'd survived three years despite her complete inability to keep plants alive.

"I have this goldfish," Maya found herself saying, "who's literally witnessed every single one of my mental breakdowns through the glass of his tank. He's basically my emotional support animal at this point."

Silence. Then Jordan burst out laughing. "No way, you still have a pet fish? That's iconic behavior honestly."

"He's judging me right now," Maya continued, surprised by her own honesty. "I can feel it. He's like, 'there she goes again, overthinking whether to order boba or not.'"

The group was laughing now, but not at her—like, actually with her. Rainbow toenails girl cracked up. "Okay mood though. My dog literally side-eyes me when I cry over grades."

And just like that, Maya was in. Not swimming in circles around the edges, but actually part of the current. She was still treading water, still anxious about what her hair would look like when she got out, still aware she'd almost declined this invitation to stay home with her goldfish.

But Fin would understand. Sometimes you had to jump in the deep end even when you couldn't see the bottom. Sometimes you'd find people who made staying afloat a little less exhausting.

"Same time next week?" Jordan asked as Maya finally pulled herself out of the pool.

"Yeah," Maya said, and for the first time in forever, she didn't feel like she was faking it. "I'm down."