The Goldfish Incident

Maya's plan was supposed to be foolproof: smuggle the class goldfish home for the weekend, prove she was responsible enough for a puppy, and finally win her mom over. But standing in the hallway while Tyler—the fox-eyed junior who'd been ghosting her for two weeks—watched her struggle with a sloshing plastic bag, she felt more like a middle schooler than a sophomore.

"Need help with that?" Tyler asked, leaning against his locker like he owned the school. His jersey read 'FOX' across the back, their school's weird mascot that nobody actually understood.

"Got it," she lied, adjusting her backpack strap. The goldfish—she'd named them Bubbles and Clout despite their being actual fish—swam in confused circles. Whatever.

The real disaster started when Jenna, her cat-obsessed best friend, came sprinting down the hall. "Maya! Baseball practice got moved to the field next door because they're fixing the gym floor, and guess who's watching?"

Maya's stomach did that thing it always did when Caleb—Caleb with the perfect swing and the annoying habit of calling everyone 'fam'—was nearby. "No. Nope."

"Yup. And you're still wearing his letterman jacket from homecoming, which he hasn't asked for back, which we all know means—"

"It's COLD, Jenna."

The bag ripped. Bubbles and Clout flopped onto the linoleum.

For three seconds, nobody moved. Then Tyler was there, scooping up the goldfish with his bare hands, dumping them into his empty Gatorade bottle because of course he carried one everywhere. Maya's face burned so hot she literally thought she might pass away right there.

"Thanks," she managed, while everyone in the hallway stared. Caleb walked by, did a double-take, and kept walking. Perfect. Just perfect.

"So," Tyler said, capping the bottle. "About that party Saturday..."

Maya looked at her goldfish swimming in neon-green Gatorade, at Jenna practically vibrating with suppressed laughter, at Tyler's annoyingly hopeful expression. Maybe high school wasn't supposed to be effortless. Maybe the messy, cringey, goldfish-disaster moments were actually the whole point.

"Pick me up at seven," she said. "And yes, you're carrying the fish."