The Goldfish Incident

Maya's hair was supposed to be sleek and sophisticated for sophomore year's first big party. Instead, she'd spent forty-five minutes fighting with her curling iron until her frizzy curls looked more like a poodle explosion than beach waves. Typical.

"You look fine," her best friend Chloe said, adjusting her own perfectly straightened hair. "Stop stressing. Kyle's not gonna care what your hair looks like."

Kyle Miller. The boy Maya had been crushing on since seventh grade algebra, when he'd let her copy his homework and flashed a smile that made her stomach do backflips. Tonight, he'd finally be at the same party as her. This was it.

The party was at Tyler's house—whose backyard featured what everyone called "the pyramid," this weird stone sculpture his dad had built for his midlife crisis. Teenagers stood around it like it was some sacred monument, red solo cups raised like offerings to the gods of awkward teenage romance.

Maya spotted Kyle immediately. He was laughing with his friends near the makeshift dance floor, looking effortlessly good in his flannel shirt. Her heart did that familiar fluttery thing. She started toward him, determined to finally make a move after two years of watching from afar.

Then she saw it.

The goldfish. A tiny, confused orange goldfish swimming circles in a massive punch bowl, clearly some poor pet's prank gone wrong. It was ridiculous, it was weird, and it was exactly the kind of random thing that could break the ice.

But as Maya reached for a cup, someone shouted, "KF needs rescuing!" and suddenly she was being hoisted up—literally lifted by several members of the football team—to form the base of some ridiculous cheerleading-style pyramid they were building around the punch bowl.

"Maya! You're up!" someone yelled.

Before she could protest, she was balancing precariously on some guy's shoulders, reaching for the punch bowl while everyone cheered. It was the most humiliating, amazing moment of her life.

Then lightning lit up the sky—a literal flash of white across the ceiling, thanks to Tyler's older brother accidentally triggering the storm light effects meant for later. The sudden brightness made Maya lose her balance. She toppled sideways, directly into Kyle Miller, who'd just walked up to see what the commotion was about.

They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and spilled punch. The entire room went silent. Maya's face burned hotter than ten suns. This was it. Social death. Final destination.

Kyle pushed himself up, cupping his hand like he was holding something precious. The goldfish flopped in his palm, safe and confused.

"Nice save," he said, grinning down at Maya, who was covered in red punch and completely mortified. "I'm Kyle, by the way."

"I know," she squeaked. "I'm Maya."

"Nice to meet you, Maya." He deposited the goldfish into a nearby water glass. "Want to help me find this guy a better home? And maybe later, you could tell me why you were balancing on Tyler's shoulders?"

Maya's curls were ruined. Her favorite shirt was stained. She'd made a complete spectacle of herself. But as Kyle extended his hand to help her up, she figured sometimes the universe worked in mysterious ways. Even if it involved a pyramid, a displaced goldfish, and accidental lightning effects.

"I'd love that," she said, taking his hand. "But you should probably know—I'm the girl who just fell into your lap to save a fish."

Kyle laughed. "Honestly? That's kind of perfect."

Her hair was still a disaster, but Maya had never felt more like herself.