Three Seconds of Memory

The carnival air smelled like cotton candy desperation and sunscreen. Me and Kai had been best friends since seventh grade, back when he'd accidentally spilled chocolate milk on my new white Jordans and I'd accidentally forgiven him because he made that face—the one with the puppy eyes and crooked grin that made everyone, even Ms. Henderson, give him a pass.

"Dude, I'm gonna win it this time," Kai said, slapping five bucks on the counter of the goldfish booth. The carny looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.

"Bro, you've said that like twelve times," I said, but I pulled out my own five anyway. "These fish probably have a three-second lifespan anyway."

"That's a myth," Kai shot back, handing over his cash. "Goldfish actually remember stuff for months."

We both threw our ping pong balls. Both missed. Kai didn't even care about the fish—I knew that. He cared about winning, about the story he'd tell Monday at lunch when we sat with the popular kids for the third time in two weeks, ever since he'd grown six inches over summer and joined varsity basketball.

I was still the same. Same height. Same seat at the third-most-popular table.

Later, we hit the community pool. That's where it happened—the moment that felt like swallowing ice water too fast. Kai spotted Tyler and his crew by the diving board. Tyler was the kind of guy who'd bring you to a party and disappear.

"Yo, hold up," Kai said, tapping my arm. "I'll catch up."

He swam over to them. I watched from the shallow end, floating on my back while my friends' laughter carried across the water. Through the distorted ripples, I saw Tyler hand Kai a soda. Saw Kai laugh at something I couldn't hear. Saw him not look back once.

I floated there for what felt like forever but was probably five minutes. The chlorine stung my eyes, or maybe that was something else.

Then Kai was back, splashing water at my face. "Yo, you're gonna turn into a prune. They're having a thing Friday, you should come."

A thing. Not a party. A thing.

"Sure," I said, treading water. "Whatever."

"Bro, you okay? You look—"

"Fine. Just thinking about those goldfish."

Kai laughed. "We'll win next time."

"Yeah," I said, already knowing next time meant next summer. Maybe never. "Whatever, bro. Whatever."