The Goldfish Monologues

Maya stared at the social pyramid that was Franklin High's cafeteria like it was a hostile alien landscape. Seniors at the apex, juniors occupying the middle layers, and freshmen like her scattered at the base—expendable little particles in the geological strata of high school hierarchy.

"At least you don't have to deal with this, Neptune," she whispered to her goldfish, whose bowl sat on her bedroom desk back home. Neptune just did his thing—swimming in endless circles, living his best orange-scaled life without a care in the world. Sometimes Maya felt like she had more in common with him than with actual humans. At least Neptune's three-second memory meant he never got stuck in an awkward social interaction loop.

Her phone buzzed. Chloe, her maybe-friend from AP Bio, had sent a selfie of herself and the popular crowd at Sweetgreen. The caption: "finally vibing with the right crowd 💅"

Maya's stomach twisted. She'd been taking those vitamin gummies her mom bought—the ones supposedly packed with "focus and energy" compounds—like they were some kind of social currency. As if swallowing enough artificial nutrients could magically transform her into someone who belonged at the top of the pyramid instead of observing from the edges.

But here's the thing nobody tells you about goldfish: they don't actually have three-second memories. That's a myth. Maya had looked it up during another late-night spiral. Neptune remembered. He recognized her face, came to the glass when she entered the room. Even tiny creatures could hold onto things that mattered.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe growing up wasn't about climbing some invisible pyramid or reinventing yourself with whatever new vitamins the algorithm was pushing that week. Maybe it was about finding the people who remembered you—the ones who didn't need constant reminders of your existence to consider you worth their time.

Maya texted Chloe back: "want to come over later? we can study for that bio test. Neptune misses you."

The reply came fast: "omg yes please save me from chemistry 😭"

Some days the only way out was swimming through—and finding who's swimming beside you.