Three Seconds of Memory

The carnival lights blurred through my tears, which was honestly embarrassing. I was sixteen, not six. But after what Jordan said in the group chat—"lol sarah's tryhard era is so cringe"—I'd spent twenty minutes power-walking away from the food court until I ended up here.

"Five bucks for three throws, kid." The carny pointed at the goldfish bowl setup.

I swiped my card. My hands were shaking. Whatever. I could blame it on the cold.

First throw: bounce off the rim. Second: total airball. I caught the carny smirking and felt my face heat up.

"Last one," he said, like he'd already mentally filed me under basic white girls who can't throw.

I exhaled. My ex used to say I overthought everything. Jordan's voice echoed in my head: *tryhard*. I threw without thinking, without caring if I looked stupid trying.

Splash.

"Well I'll be," the carny said, actually impressed. "Pick your fish."

I ended up with a goldfish in a bag, swimming in tiny circles like it had somewhere important to be. I sat on a bench and just looked at it for a minute. Its mouth kept opening and closing, like it was trying to say something that couldn't quite make it out.

"That's a terrible idea."

I jumped. A guy in a faded hoodie stood there, eating cotton candy. He had these intense dark eyes and he was—okay, I'm not gonna say he was cute, but he was definitely not not cute.

"What?"

"The fish. You're doing the whole 'I'll take care of it this time, I swear' face." He sat down anyway, which was bold. "Let me guess, your parents said no?"

"They think I'm irresponsible. Which, fair." I looked at the fish again. "I literally have nothing prepared for this guy. No bowl, no food, no—"

"I have a setup."

I stared at him. "You?"

"My sister wins one every year. My parents stopped fighting it. There's basically a whole orphanage situation in my room." He pulled out his phone. "I'm Kai, by the way. And I'm not being weird, I promise. This fish deserves better than dying on your nightstand because you forgot to buy conditioner."

I laughed, surprised. "I'm Riley. And you're right, but also, how is this your life?"

"Long story." He stood up. "My car's that way. Unless you'd rather doom this little guy?"

The goldfish swam to the front of the bag like it was voting.

"Okay," I said. "But I need to tell someone where I'm going first. Safety first."

Kai grinned. "Good call. Your parents will love that I'm kidnapping you to rescue a fish."

My palm was sweating when I pulled out my phone. But as I typed out a text to my mom—something responsible and normal—I didn't feel like running anymore. Jordan could think whatever she wanted. Sometimes you throw without thinking, and somehow, it lands exactly where it needs to.