The Goldfish Monologues

The kitchen counter felt like the safest place in the universe. Which was pathetic, considering I was at my first high school party and the only thing keeping me company was a bowl of goldfish crackers.

"You doing okay, man?" Jason appeared beside me, holding a suspiciously red solo cup. "You look like you're about to puke."

"I'm good," I lied, my voice cracking slightly. "Just...taking it all in."

Inside, I was dying. This was supposed to be the night I finally talked to Maya—the girl who'd sat behind me in bio since freshman year, who always smelled like vanilla and had this laugh that made my chest feel weird. Instead, I'd spent the last forty-five minutes staring at the goldfish crackers like they held the secrets to the universe.

"Hey, you know what'll help?" Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of gummy vitamins. "My mom thinks I'm actually taking these for football. Want one? They're shaped like dinosaurs."

I stared at him. "Dude, are you handing out vitamins at a party?"

"It's all about the branding, Leo. Girls think it's responsible. Shows you care about your health. It's a whole thing."

Before I could respond, the living room erupted. Someone had started a game—something involving stacking cups into a pyramid and knocking them down with a tennis ball. And there she was. Maya. Her hair was pulled back in this messy ponytail, and she was laughing as she absolutely dominated at cup-pong, which wasn't even a real game but she was making it one.

"You should go talk to her," Jason said, nudging my shoulder. "Or you can stay here and bond with the crackers. Your call."

I took a deep breath. "Bear with me. I'm going to do it."

"Bear with you? That's not even—"

I walked over to the pyramid of cups. My hands were sweating. This was it. The moment every coming-of-age movie had prepared me for. I opened my mouth to say something cool, something smooth like hey, nice shot or want to team up?

Instead, Maya turned around, her eyes lighting up like she'd just won the lottery. "Leo! Finally! I was hoping you'd show up."

"You...were?"

"Duh." She handed me a tennis ball. "You're the only person in our grade who knows anything about physics. I need someone to calculate the perfect trajectory. Unless you're busy staring at the snack table?"

Jason, watching from the kitchen, caught my eye and mouthed: DINO VITAMENS.

I grinned. "I can help with that."

Later, as we rebuilt the pyramid she'd accidentally destroyed with her last shot, Maya asked about the goldfish-shaped stain on my shirt. I told her about the crackers. She laughed—really laughed—and the sound was better than anything I'd imagined.

"You're weird," she said, bumping my shoulder. "But like, in a good way."

I'd take it.