Three Seconds of Glory

The popular kids sat at the top of the cafeteria like ancient Egyptian gods overlooking their kingdom. That's the social **pyramid** at Northwood High—beautiful, impossible to climb, and definitely built on the backs of peasants like me.

"You're staring again," Maya whispered, sliding onto the bench across from me. "It's getting creepy."

"I'm not staring," I lied, though my **palm** palms were practically sliding off my tray. "I'm observing. For science."

Maya rolled her eyes so hard I worried they'd get stuck. "You're not exactly subtle, Kai. Next time you 'observe' Chloe from across the cafeteria, maybe don't literally spill milk all over yourself."

Okay, so maybe last week's incident was a little dramatic. But in my defense, Chloe Richardson had waved at me. ME. The universe had glitched, and I'd panicked.

The bell rang, saving me from Maya's relentless teasing. Mr. Harrison's history class meant another day of staring at the back of Chloe's head while pretending to care about the Treaty of Versailles.

But then—miracle of miracles—the classroom fish went belly up.

Bubbles, the history class **goldfish**, was dead. And like, properly dead, floating at the top of his bowl with the dignity of someone who'd lived a full life of two years and approximately seventeen seconds of memory.

"Someone needs to hold the funeral," Mr. Harrison sighed, looking defeated. "Preferably before third period."

Chloe's hand shot up. "I'll do it."

"Need help?" I heard myself say before my brain could physically stop my mouth.

Her eyes found mine. Actually found them. "Yeah, that'd be actually awesome."

So there we were, Chloe Richardson and me, crouched behind the school near the old oak tree with a dead goldfish in a makeshift origami coffin (my folding skills, surprisingly on point). My hands were sweating so much I was worried I'd accidentally drown the fish a second time.

"He had a good life," Chloe said, digging the hole with a stick she'd found. "Brief, but meaningful."

"Two years," I agreed. "And approximately seven seconds of memory per... memory. I'm bad at math."

She laughed—actually laughed—and for a second, the cafeteria pyramid felt very far away. "Kai, you're weird. But like, in a good way."

We sat there for ten minutes after burying Bubbles, talking about everything and nothing. Her palms were sweaty too, she admitted, when she got nervous. She'd noticed me in class sometimes. She thought my origami was cool.

By the time we walked back inside, my palms were dry, the pyramid seemed climbable, and for three seconds of glory—when she squeezed my hand before walking to her seat—I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Sometimes the universe doesn't glitch. Sometimes it just decides to be kind.