The Truth About Goldfish

Maya's older cousin said that if you wanted to survive high school, you needed three things: a solid friend group, at least one fire fit, and the ability to fake confidence even when your stomach was doing backflips.

Tonight, Maya had none of those.

She stood in the corner of Jordan's basement party, clutching her phone like a lifeline. Her iPhone screen showed 47 unread messages from the group chat she'd been ghosted from two weeks ago. The irony wasn't lost on her—she'd scrolled through TikTok for three hours straight today, yet somehow she couldn't manage to reply to "hey, are you coming??"

Across the room, someone's pet goldfish swam in lazy circles in a bowl on the counter. Maya watched it, mesmerized. People always said goldfish had three-second memories, but she'd read somewhere that was actually a myth. They remembered. They just didn't hold grudges.

Unlike certain people who'd promised "we're still cool, it's not like that" before mysteriously forgetting to invite her to things.

"Hey."

Maya nearly jumped. A guy stood there—Leo, from her history class. The one who always sat in the back, wearing those beat-up Converse and drawing in his notebook instead of taking notes.

"That fish looks like it's contemplating existence," he said, nodding toward the bowl.

Maya laughed before she could stop herself. "Honestly? Mood."

"Your turn to be existential fish next. I call dibs on watching." He held out a gummy vitamin gummy—like, the actual supplement kind, not the fun stuff. "Want one? My mom's on this whole wellness kick. Says these'll fix my entire personality."

"Are those... children's vitamins?"

"They're shaped like dinosaurs. I refuse to elaborate."

Something in Maya's chest loosened. Not a lot, just enough to breathe.

Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating the basement windows for half a second. In that moment, she saw everything differently—the ridiculousness of standing in a corner pretending to text, the way she'd been letting her former friend group dictate her worth, the fact that she was talking to Leo from history class and it was... not terrible.

"You know what's crazy?" she said. "I've been so obsessed with people who forgot I existed, I forgot I could just... meet new people."

Leo popped another dinosaur vitamin. "Wild concept. Also, your ex-friends are over by the fridge looking miserable without you. Just saying."

Maya looked. They did look miserable. But for the first time in two weeks, she didn't.

"So," Leo said. "Want to judge people's Spotify choices instead of standing in corners?"

Maya grinned. "Absolutely."

The goldfish swam on, three-second memory myth or not. Some things you remember. Some things you let go. And some nights, you just start swimming toward something new.