Three Seconds of Bravery

The goldfish circled its bowl for the forty-seventh time, and honestly? Same. I'd been orbiting this party for three hours, clutching my **iPhone** like a lifeline, watching everyone else actually live while I documented a version of myself that didn't exist.

"You're not gonna get that perfect shot if you don't get in the **water**," said Lily, dropping onto the lounge chair beside me. She was the kind of comfortable in her skin that I didn't know was legal at sixteen. "Also, your charging **cable** is dangling in the pool. Just so you know."

I scrambled to save my phone from chlorine death, nearly toppling into the deep end. Lily laughed, and I felt my face match the sunset painting itself across the sky. Perfect. The moment I'd been waiting for all summer—just me and Noah, finally at the same party—and I was about to electrocute myself.

Then I saw Noah's ex, Kayla, emerge from the pool like she'd been photoshopped into reality. She waved at someone across the deck—this lanky guy with hair that fell over his eyes, wearing a faded **fox**-racing tee that had definitely seen better decades.

"That's Leo," Lily said, following my gaze. "He's new. transferred from Oregon. Apparently he's, like, absurdly smart but failed three classes on purpose because he 'refuses to participate in systemic performance metrics.'"

"That's the most pretentious thing I've ever heard," I said, but I was kind of impressed.

"He keeps showing up to school functions with a different pet goldfish. Claims they're all named Gerald and he's building an army."

I blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, last week's Gerald died on Tuesday. Wednesday he shows up with Gerald II, looking mournful. The funeral was held behind the cafeteria during fifth period."

I snorted, and then I was laughing, really laughing, phone facedown on the chair for the first time all night. Because apparently while I'd been carefully curating a personality that would make Noah notice me, there was a whole actual world happening. A guy with an army of replacement goldfish. An ex who wasn't the villain I'd built her up to be. A friend who'd been sitting beside me the whole time.

"So," Lily said, nudging me. "you gonna document this moment or actually be in it?"

The goldfish in my mind stopped swimming in circles. I dropped my phone into my bag—still dry, thanks for asking—and stood up.

"I'm gonna be in it," I said. "Starting with: who is this fox-shirt guy and why haven't I met him?"

Three seconds of bravery. That's all it took to jump into the deep end.