The Zombie Goldfish Confession

Maya stared at her reflection, hands tangled in her frizzy hair. Third day of washing it with the wrong shampoo, and now she looked like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Perfect timing—Jared's party was in three hours.

"You look like a zombie," her little brother announced from the doorway, his phone capturing her meltdown for TikTok.

"Get out, Leo!" She slammed the door and flopped onto her bed, crushing the sequined top she'd spent three weeks saving up for. Her phone buzzed—group chat blowing up with pre-game hype. Everyone was getting ready except her, currently drowning in hair disaster and existential crisis.

Her gaze landed on Mr. Glubbers. The goldfish swam in his tank, doing that creepy staring thing that always felt judgy. She'd won him at the county fair last summer, back when she thought winning things meant she had her life together.

"You think this is funny?" she whispered to him. "At least you don't have to worry about your hair."

Mr. Glubbers blew bubbles.

Suddenly, her phone lit up with Jared's name. Her stomach did that awful flip thing. He never messaged first.

"Hey, u going 2nite?"

She sat up, fingers hovering. If she said no, she'd miss everything. If she said yes, she'd show up looking like a electrocuted poodle.

"Hair emergency," she typed back. "Might skip."

"lol come anyway. u always look fine."

Maya stared at the screen. Always look fine? Was he blind or just being nice? Either way, something shifted in her chest—like Mr. Glubbers had finally swam to the top of his tank.

She grabbed her hair, wrestled it into two messy French braids, and threw on the sequined top. Not perfect. Not Instagram perfect. But real.

"Later, Mr. Glubbers," she said, grabbing her phone. "Wish me luck."

The goldfish did another lap around his castle, probably plotting her social demise. But Maya didn't care. She was done feeling like a zombie in her own life.

Tonight, she was showing up as herself.