The Goldfish Monologues

Maya's locker was the graveyard of abandoned pets. Well, one pet specifically. Bubbles the goldfish, who'd somehow survived three months in a Mason jar on her top shelf, swimming circles like she was plotting something.

"You're literally obsessed with that fish," said Jordan, leaning against the locker next to hers. His orange hoodie was stained with what she hoped was chocolate.

"She gets me," Maya said, feeding Bubbles a pinch of flakes. "Unlike SOME people who bailed on plans Friday."

Jordan had the decency to look sheepish. "Chloe's party was supposed to be lowkey. Then her parents left and—"

"And you chose a rager over our Mario Kart marathon. Betrayal."

"It wasn't even fun," Jordan said. "Someone brought this massive dog—like, bear-sized—and it ate an entire pizza box. Chaos."

Maya snorted. "Classic."

The hallway swarmed with students, but in their bubble, everything slowed. Jordan fiddled with his backpack strap, a tell. He wanted to ask something.

"So," he said, too casual. "Homecoming's coming up."

"And?"

"You going with anyone?"

Maya's heart did that stupid flutter thing she hated. She and Jordan had been best friends since seventh grade, when he'd accidentally spit gum into her hair during math class. There was a moment—last summer, at the lake house—where something shifted. But then school started, and they fell back into their easy rhythm, neither willing to risk it.

"No one's asked," she said carefully.

Jordan nodded, still not meeting her eyes. "Right. Cool. Cool."

"Why?"

"Just wondering. You know. For a friend."

"Which friend?"

"...You?"

"Jordan."

"Okay, FINE." He finally looked at her, cheeks flushing. "I wanted to ask if you wanted to go together. As friends. Or. Not friends. Whatever."

Maya grinned. She couldn't help it. "Bubbles, did you hear that?"

"Don't bring the fish into this."

"She's your witness now."

"Maya."

"Yes," she said. "I'd love to. Not friends. Or whatever."

Jordan's relief was so obvious it was almost insulting. He straightened up, already looking more confident. "Bet. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Seven's when the dance starts."

"Exactly. We're making an entrance."

He walked backward down the hall, grinning like he'd just won something. Maya watched him go, then turned back to Bubbles, who was still swimming in endless circles, probably judging everything.

"Well," Maya whispered. "That was catastrophic." She fed the fish another flake. "But not the worst thing that's happened in this locker."