The Goldfish Were Watching

Maya's existence had officially transitioned into zombie mode. Three weeks into sophomore year, and she was already functioning on autopilot—dragging herself through first period biology with all the enthusiasm of a sleep-deprived undead. Her mom's latest health kick involved forcing down these horrifyingly green spinach smoothies every morning, which Maya secretly poured into the designated smoothie-rejection plant by the front door.

"It's basically a liquid vitamin!" her mom would chirp from the kitchen, somehow convinced that liquefied vegetables could solve fifteen-year-old existential dread.

During lunch, Maya sat across from Leo, who was currently maintaining that intense eye contact people make when they're actually looking at their iphone under the table. Leo's goldfish, a carnival-won disaster named Galacticus, had just passed away, and he was spiraling.

"He had personality, Maya. He would recognize me. That's not basic fish behavior—that's a soul connection."

"He had a seven-second memory span, Leo. He recognized the food container."

"You're so cynical now. Remember freshman year? We were so... unjaded."

Something about that hit weirdly hard. Was she becoming a zombie version of herself? Just going through motions, losing the weird parts that made her actually her?

Maya pulled out her phone, opened Notes, and typed: THE ANTI-ZOMBIE PROTOCOL.

"What are you doing?" Leo asked, finally abandoning his phone.

"We're bringing back freshman energy. Starting now. We're going to do things that actually matter. Not just survive high school, but like, actually experience it."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything that's not just... waiting for real life to start. Maybe we start by actually eating the stupid spinach smoothies instead of killing my mom's ficus. Maybe we talk to people outside our bubble. Maybe we join something terrifying like drama club or—"

"Track?" Leo suggested.

"Track? You hate running."

"Exactly. Terror. Growth. Whatever. Let's do it."

Galacticus would've wanted them to live with purpose. Probably. The three goldfish his mom had already bought as replacements were definitely watching, and their judgment was palpable.