Three Shots at the Goldfish

Maya's hair was supposed to be sunset copper. Instead, she looked like a traffic cone.

"You look... bold," Liam said, which was basically code for "what did you do to yourself?" but he was too nice to say it. The orange catastrophe had happened three hours before the summer carnival, thanks to a box dye that lied on its label and a panic-induced Instagram tutorial.

Now she stood before the goldfish toss, clutching her last three tokens like they were precious gems. In the distance, she could hear people screaming on the mechanical bull ride. The bull bucks, you fall, everyone laughs at you. Metaphor for her whole life.

"One throw, win a fish," the carnie called out. He looked like he'd been saying those exact words since the Mesozoic era.

"You don't want a goldfish," Liam said. "They're basically fuzzy vegetables with fins. They die if you look at them wrong."

"That's the point," Maya said. "Something that needs me. Something that depends on me. Maybe I won't be terrible at it."

Their friend group had fragmented over the summer. Chloe was practically ghosting them for the volleyball crowd. Jason had gotten all weird about grades and stopped replying to texts. And here was Maya, with orange hair and zero direction, spending her allowance on aquatic pets she'd probably kill by Tuesday.

Her first throw went wide. Second one bounced off the rim and rolled away like it was embarrassed for her.

"Last one," the carnie said, with exactly zero enthusiasm.

Maya closed her eyes. She could feel the orange-weight of everyone watching, the way the sunset caught her hair and made her look radioactive, the complete and utter absurdity of being sixteen and still not knowing who she was supposed to be.

She threw.

The ping-pong ball hit the rim, teetered like it was making a decision, and dropped in.

"NO WAY," Liam yelled. "Maya, that was actually sick!"

The carnie sighed, reached into the tank, and scooped out a goldfish. It was mostly orange, with a splash of white like it couldn't decide either.

"His name is Consistency," Maya said, staring at her new reflection in the plastic bag. "Because I have none, but maybe he can help."

The bull bucked in the distance. Someone fell off. The crowd cheered anyway.

Maya realized she was smiling. Her hair was still orange. Her friends were still drifting. She had no idea what she was doing. But somehow, improbably, she'd won something.

"Wanna go on the bull?" Liam asked.

Maya looked at her fish, then at the ride, then back at her orange-hair reflection. "Yeah. Let's get absolutely humiliated together."

Sometimes that's the best kind of win.