When the Goldfish Died

The spinach stuck in my braces like a green flag of surrender. Maya noticed it first, of course, because the universe hates me.

"You got a little..." She pointed at her own teeth, grinning.

I stared at my iPhone reflection. Dead. Mr. Bubbles had lived three whole years, survived my mom's accidental overfeeding phase, and now he was floating sideways like a abandoned pool noodle. I texted Jada: he's gone.

"Who's gone?" Maya leaned over my shoulder.

"Mr. Bubbles."

"Your fish?" She made this face, like she was calculating how much sympathy to allot. "That sucks. But also, kind of hilarious naming?"

I shrugged. What she didn't know: Mr. Bubbles was the only one who'd listened when I ranted about my parents splitting, or how I felt like a zombie walking through school some days, just going through the motions. A fish can't judge your cringe middle school poetry. A fish can't screenshot your texts and laugh.

The party noise swelled around us — bass thrumming, people shouting over each other, someone doing shots in the kitchen. I felt that familiar heavy fog rolling in, like I was watching everything from underwater. Social battery: 1%. Mental zombie mode: ACTIVATED.

"Let me guess," Maya said, softer. "You're gonna peace out early again."

"Maybe."

"Your loss." She bumped my shoulder. "Tyler's actually asking about you."

Tyler. The guy I'd been lowkey stalking on Instagram since September. The guy whose stories I watched immediately, every single time, like some obsessed creep.

"He's probably just being nice."

"Or maybe he thinks you're cute but you never stick around long enough for him to find out."

My phone buzzed. Jada: come over. we're having a funeral for mr bubbles. bring oreos.

I looked at Maya, at the party, at Tyler laughing across the room with his friends. Then I looked at the spinach that was probably still decorating my teeth.

"Actually," I said, "I gotta go. Fish funeral."

Maya stared at me for exactly three seconds before she lost it. "You're kidding."

"Dead serious."

She snorted. "You're so weird. That's why people like you, you know."

I walked out into the cool night air, phone lighting up with more messages from Jada. Somewhere behind me, the party kept going without me. But for the first time in forever, I didn't feel like I was missing out.

Mr. Bubbles would've wanted it that way.