Three Second Memory

The goldfish—Bubbles, because originality wasn't my strong suit—stared at me through the glass like I was the interesting one. Typical.

"Bro, you've been wearing that shirt for twenty minutes," Marcus called from my bed, not looking up from his phone. "It's fine. You're fine. We're gonna be late."

I tugged at the collar. "You sure? Think she'll notice?"

"Dude. Stop. You're overthinking it. Again."

Easy for him to say. Marcus had been dating Jordan since seventh grade. Meanwhile, I was sixteen and somehow still managed to turn basic human interaction into an extreme sport.

My dad's work van sat in the driveway—CABLE PRO SOLUTIONS stenciled on the side in letters that were peeling at the edges. He'd been out since 6 AM, crawling under houses and wrestling with coaxial cables in hundred-degree attics while I stood here spiraling about whether navy blue was "too much" for a casual hang.

The cable thing was low-key embarrassing, honestly. Everyone else's parents had cool jobs or at least boring ones. Mine announced his profession to the entire neighborhood every time he pulled up.

"You ready?" Marcus asked, finally standing up.

I nodded, throat tight. "Yeah. Let's go."

The pool party was already in full swing when we arrived. Kids everywhere—laughing, screaming, blasting music from someone's portable speaker that was definitely not waterproof. Chlorine hung heavy in the air.

And there she was.

Maya stood by the deep end, wet hair slicked back, droplets of water running down her arms like she'd stepped out of a movie poster or something. She caught my eye and smiled and just like that, my brain went static.

"Hey!" she called, waving me over. "We're doing chicken fights. You in?"

"Uh—" I looked around wildly. "With who?"

She pointed at some sophomore I barely knew. "It's just Steve, don't overthink it."

So I did it. I got on Steve's shoulders in the deep end and we faced off against Maya and this girl from her soccer team. The water felt amazing—cool and perfect against my skin, washing away everything that felt tight and wrong about today. Maya laughed, head thrown back, and I realized I was grinning like an idiot.

We lost. Spectacularly. But as I came up sputtering, wiping water from my eyes, Maya reached out and hauled me up.

"You okay?" she asked, and her hand lingered on my arm for like half a second longer than necessary.

"Yeah," I said, and meant it. "Yeah, I'm good."

Later, sitting on the pool edge with my feet in the water, she scooted closer.

"So," she said. "Your dad fixed our cable last month. My mom said he was really nice."

I laughed. "Yeah, he's the best. Even if his van is basically a rolling midlife crisis."

She smiled. "I think it's kind of cool, actually. He's good at something real. Not like, I don't know, whatever these guys"—she nodded at the juniors showing off by the diving board—"pretend to be good at."

The sun dipped lower, painting the sky pink and gold. Marcus gave me a thumbs-up from across the pool.

"Hey," Maya said quietly. "You want to hang out tomorrow? Just, like, walk around or whatever?"

My heart did something genuinely concerning in my chest. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

When I got home, Bubbles was still doing his thing, swimming in endless circles around his tiny castle.

"You're not gonna believe this," I told him, dropping onto my bed.

He opened his mouth, made a little fish-face, and swam away.

"I know, right?" I said. "Me either."

Some things are worth remembering. Even if goldfish supposedly can't.