Three Second Memory

The goldfish bag was sweating against my leg, probably because I'd been standing in the sun for forty-five minutes while Ryan pitched another strikeout.

"You gonna put that down?" Chloe whispered, gesturing to my iPhone, which was clutched in my sweaty hand like a lifeline.

"I'm live-tweeting the game," I lied. I was actually staring at the unsent text to Ryan: *Nice game so far.* Lame. So lame. I'd typed and deleted it seventeen times.

The goldfish—named Bolt by the sophomore who'd given him to me as some kind of joke consolation prize when I didn't make varsity—swam in lazy circles. His bowl was a repurposed baseball Gatorade jug. Three-second memory, they said. Sometimes I wished I could be like that, forgetting every embarrassing thing instantly.

"Yo, Maya!" Ryan's voice cut through my thoughts. He was jogging toward the dugout between innings. "You want this?" He tossed something toward me—his sweatband, gross, but I caught it reflexively.

"Thanks," I squeaked. My face burned.

"Your phone's gonna die," Chloe observed. "You forgot your cable again."

I checked: 4%. Of course. The universe had perfect timing.

Ryan was looking right at me. Why was he looking at me? I was holding a goldfish in a Gatorade jug and wearing someone else's sweatband on my wrist like a friendship bracelet from hell.

"Nice fish," he called out.

"His name's Bolt," I heard myself say. Why did I say that? Why am I like this?

Ryan grinned. "Like, lightning fast?"

"Like three-second memory," I said before I could stop myself.

He laughed. An actual laugh. "Relatable. Hey, you coming to the party after? Bring the fish."

"Wait, what?" My phone buzzed—final warning before death. But I didn't care about the 2% or the cable sitting on my bedroom floor or the way my hands were shaking.

"Party. My place. Everyone's going." He tipped his cap. "Don't forget Bolt."

Chloe shoved my shoulder. "Did that just happen?"

Bolt swam another circle, completely unaware that my entire social existence had just shifted. Maybe three-second memory wasn't so bad after all—except I wanted to remember this forever.