The Goldfish Protocol

Maya stood by the buffet table, clutching her red Solo cup like a shield. The high school social pyramid stretched before her in all its cruel glory—the seniors at the top, effortlessly laughing in someone's expensive basement, while freshmen like her clustered near the snacks, trying to look like they belonged.

"You okay?"

She jumped. It was Lucas, the guy from her history class. The one she'd been lowkey crushing on since September.

"Yeah, just..." Maya gestured vaguely at the aquarium glowing softly against the wall. "Watching the goldfish. They're living their best life."

Lucas laughed, and the sound did something annoying to her stomach. "Let me guess—you've given them names?"

"That's Gerald," she pointed at a orange one doing laps. "And that one's Sheila. They're the only ones here who aren't playing some weird social game."

His palm brushed hers as he reached for a chip, sending a jolt through her entire nervous system. "Tell me about it. I heard Jenna spreading bull about you in the bathroom earlier."

Maya's face burned. "What kind of bull?"

"That you're, like, a spy for the debate team?" Lucas raised an eyebrow. "Which is honestly kind of badass if true."

"I'm not a spy," Maya said, but she was smiling now. "I just happen to hear things when people think nobody's listening."

"So you ARE a spy."

"I prefer 'socially observant.'"

The bass from the living room thrummed against the walls. Gerald and Sheila continued their endless laps, utterly indifferent to teenage drama. Maya looked at Lucas—really looked at him—and realized maybe the pyramid wasn't as unclimbable as she'd thought. Sometimes you just needed someone to stand with you near the goldfish, calling out the bull and appreciating your spy skills.

"Wanna get out of here?" Lucas asked. "There's a 24-hour diner. I heard they have real food."

Maya set down her untouched cup. "Abso-freaking-lutely."