Three Seconds at the Party

The fedora hat perched awkwardly on my head felt less like cool vintage fashion and more like a cry for help. I'd spent twenty minutes perfecting the tilt in my bathroom mirror, but now, standing in someone's basement while bass thumped against my ribs, I just looked like I was trying too hard.

Which, obviously, I was.

My iPhone buzzed in my pocket – probably Mom wondering where I was – but I ignored it. The phone was my safety blanket anyway. If things got too weird, I could suddenly remember I needed to "text someone" or "check this important thing" and retreat into the glowing rectangle like the coward I secretly was.

Then I saw it. A goldfish bowl on a shelf near the makeshift bar, definitely not where a living creature should be. The fish stared at me with those dead, glassy eyes, completely unimpressed by my social anxiety or the fact that Jordan from AP English was definitely laughing at my hat two feet away.

"That's Frank," someone said behind me.

I jumped. It was Maya, whose Instagram stories I followed but had never actually spoken to. She gestured at the bowl. "My brother won him at a carnival last month. He's somehow still alive despite everything."

"Frank the goldfish," I said, and immediately wanted to die. What was wrong with me?

But Maya laughed. "Exactly. Frank's living his best life, you know? Just vibing in his bowl while we're all pretending we know how to function at parties."

Behind us, a pyramid of red solo cups collapsed with a spectacular crash. Someone shouted "PYRAMID SCHEME" and everyone laughed. Jordan from AP English definitely rolled his eyes at me.

"This party sucks," Maya said, and my heart did this embarrassing little flutter. "Want to go look at Frank? He's way more interesting than whatever Tyler is saying about his crypto investments."

"Crypto," I repeated. "Of course."

"C'mon, Hat Girl," she said, and the nickname didn't even sound mean. "Let's go be antisocial together."

I followed her toward the goldfish, and for the first time all night, my hand didn't instinctively reach for my iPhone. Maybe I wouldn't be the person who needed to hide behind a phone or a carefully chosen accessory. Maybe I could just be someone who stood in a basement talking to a cool girl about a fish named Frank.

I adjusted my fedora. Maybe the hat wasn't so bad after all.