Three Seconds of Air

The carnival goldfish had lasted three weeks before floating belly-up, a personal best for Jordan. They weren't exactly pet material, but everyone in eighth grade had something: Jordan's sister had her Instagram followers, Marcus had his varsity jacket in waiting, and Jordan had dead fish and a growing collection of glass bowls.

"You need a hobby," their mom said, dangling the net as Jordan flushed another one. "Or at least something that doesn't require plumbing."

The pool party at Riley's house was exactly the kind of social hazard Jordan spent life avoiding. Too much sun, too many people in too little clothing, and the persistent threat of forced interaction. Jordan perched on the edge of the diving board, feet dangling in the water, watching everyone else live the Instagram version of summer.

"You gonna jump or just test the pH balance?"

Jordan looked down. An orange swimsuit. Bright, aggressive orange. And Riley's cousin Kai, who'd moved here from the city and somehow made everything look easy. They had this way of standing like they'd already read the script and found it amusing.

"Chemistry's not really my thing," Jordan said, which was the stupidest thing they'd ever said.

Kai laughed, actual laugh with teeth. "Fair." They sat on the edge next to Jordan, close enough that their arms brushed. "I heard about your fish."

"My fish?" Jordan's face burned.

"Riley says you're, like, running a hospice situation. Goldfish." Kai pulled their phone from their pocket, then frowned at the loose charging cable hanging from the deck railing. "She thinks it's weird. I think it's kind of intense, in a not-bad way."

"They're just fish," Jordan muttered, staring at the water rippling around their ankles.

"Yeah, but like—you keep trying. Most people would've quit after the third one." Kai's knee pressed against Jordan's, deliberate. "There's something... I don't know, noble about it? Going back in even when you know what's gonna happen."

Jordan looked at Kai properly for the first time. The sun caught the orange fabric, making their skin glow warm beneath. In the background, someone's phone pinged with a notification. Below, the water kept moving, endless and forgiving.

"Hold on," Kai said suddenly, eyes lighting up. They scrambled up, grabbing their phone and the cable. "Your fish—you need a filter. Like, an actual one. My friend in the city had this whole setup, their goldfish lived for years. I can look it up, we can—"

"We?" Jordan heard their own voice, small and hopeful.

Kai paused, phone halfway to their face. Their eyes dropped to Jordan's ankles, still in the water, then back up. Something shifted in their expression, something that made Jordan feel seen in a way that had nothing to do with fish.

"Yeah," Kai said softly. "We can figure it out. Together."

Jordan pulled their feet from the water, droplets running down their calves like they were afraid to let go. "Together sounds good."

Somewhere behind them, a splash and screams. Jordan stood, and Kai grinned—really grinned, like Jordan had just told a joke they actually wanted to hear. The orange swimsuit was still bright, still aggressive, but now it was something else too: a color Jordan could actually breathe in.