The Hat and the Goldfish

Maya pulled her beanie down lower, basically becoming a human hat at this point. In the cafeteria, she was basically a spy—watching, listening, invisible. That was the whole point of the hat. If you couldn't see her eyes, you couldn't see her judging your entire existence.

"Yo, Maya!" Jordan waved from the popular table. "You joining us or what?"

She almost choked on her sandwich. Jordan. The Jordan who'd been ghosting her texts since they'd awkwardly almost-kissed at Skylar's party last month. Now he wanted to wave like they were besties? The audacity.

"Nah, I'm good," Maya called back, her voice cracking. Smooth. Definitely smooth.

She escaped to the library, her usual refuge. There he was: Mr. Glub, the library goldfish. The only living thing that didn't expect her to perform social acrobatics. His bowl sat on the counter, bubbler humming like it was whispering secrets.

"They're all fake, Mr. Glub," she whispered, pressing her forehead against the glass. "Even Jordan. He literally didn't speak to me for weeks and now suddenly—"

"Maya!" Ms. Reynolds appeared behind her. "Since you're here, can you help me with the computer? The HDMI cable's acting weird again."

Because apparently being a teenager meant being the school's unofficial IT support too.

The cable was frayed where it connected to the projector. Obviously. "You need a new one," Maya said, tracing the exposed wire. "This is literally held together by vibes and hope at this point."

Ms. Reynolds laughed. "You're funny. You know, Jordan was asking about you earlier."

Maya's stomach did that thing where it forgot how to organ. "What? Why?"

"Said he needed help with history. But honestly?" Ms. Reynolds lowered her voice. "I think he's just looking for an excuse to talk to you."

Maya looked at Mr. Glub. His fishy mouth opened and closed, like he was saying, "I told you so."

"Whatever," Maya said, but her cheeks burned. "I'll help you after school. With the cable. Not Jordan. Obviously not Jordan."

But as she walked out, adjusting her hat, she caught Jordan's eye across the hall. He didn't look away. He actually smiled. And maybe—just maybe—being a spy wasn't about being invisible. Maybe it was about finally letting yourself be seen.