Waterlogged

The party was everything Maya hated about sophomore year: too loud, too many people doing TikTok dances in the living room, and the omnipresent fear that everyone was having more fun than her.

She'd spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom fixing her eyeliner, practicing her chill casual smile in the mirror. Now she stood in the kitchen clutching a red solo cup like it was a lifeline, pretending to be fascinated by the lone goldfish swimming circles in a bowl on the counter.

"That's Barry," someone said.

Maya jumped. It was Alex from her English class, wearing that vintage basketball jersey he always did, holding his phone like he was waiting for something important.

"Barry the goldfish," she said, because what else was there to say.

"Yeah. My sister won him at a carnival last month and forgot about him. He's got, like, zero rizz but he's lowkey living his best life." Alex's dimples showed when he smiled. "You good? You look like you're mentally calculating your exit strategy."

Maya felt her face heat up. Was she that transparent?

"I'm just—I'm not great at parties. My phone's basically my security blanket and it died twenty minutes ago, so now I'm just... existing. Unplugged. It's giving anxiety."

"Same," Alex said, setting his iPhone on the counter next to Barry's bowl. "I literally come to these things for the free snacks and then spend the whole time scrolling doom content. It's a whole mindset shift to actually, like, talk to people."

Barry the goldfish swam to the surface, his mouth opening and closing in tiny gasps.

"You know what's wild?" Maya said, surprising herself. "Barry's just vibing. No FOMO, no checking his DMs every two seconds, no wondering if everyone's hanging out without him. Just swimming."

"Damn," Alex laughed. "Barry's moving different. He understood the assignment before we even got here."

Then it happened—Alex reached for his cup, elbow hit Barry's bowl, and suddenly there was water everywhere, goldfish flopping on the kitchen counter, both iPhones completely submerged.

"OH MY GOD—" Maya scrambled, scooping Barry into her cupped hands while Alex grabbed his phone, frantically wiping it on his shirt. She dumped the goldfish into the pitcher of water nearby, heart pounding.

They stood there, dripping, breathless, looking at each other.

"Okay," Alex said, chest heaving. "That was objectively not it. But... I think Barry lives?"

Maya started laughing. She couldn't stop. Alex joined in, and suddenly the party noise faded to background.

"My iPhone is absolutely cooked," she said between gasps. "My mom is gonna kill me."

"Same," Alex grinned. "But hey, at least we're not alone in our social awkwardness anymore. And Barry's out here living his best life in a pitcher. That's a W."

"That's a W," she agreed.

They spent the rest of the night sitting on the back porch, phones drying in rice, watching Barry swim in his temporary home, talking about everything and nothing. Maya couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this light.

Sometimes the best moments happened when your safety net drowned and you had to learn to swim.