Zombie Goldfish at Third Period

Maya's legs burned as she rounded the track, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Coach Martinez's voice echoed across the field—something about pushing through the pain—but honestly? Maya felt like a **zombie** that had forgotten how to properly die. Cross country practice at 6 AM should be illegal, especially when you'd stayed up until 2 AM stalking your crush's Instagram story.

At least she'd remembered to grab a **water** bottle from the kitchen counter. Her mom was all about that hydration life, leaving Post-it notes everywhere: DRINK WATER, TAKE YOUR **VITAMIN**, CALL YOUR GRANDMA. Maya had actually swallowed one of the gummy vitamins on her way out the door, mostly because they tasted like strawberries and rebellion.

"You okay?" puffed Riley, her best friend since seventh grade, pulling up beside her. "You look dead."

"Dead is a strong word," Maya wheezed. "I'm merely... environmentally friendly."

Riley snorted, nearly tripping over her own feet. "That's the stupidest thing you've said all week."

The real disaster, however, was waiting for Maya in third period biology. Her lab partner, Jordan—the one with the unfairly nice eyelashes and the tendency to wear hoodies even in June—was supposed to bring in the class **goldfish** for their ecosystem observation project. The fish, ironically named Goldie, had been entrusted to Maya's care over the weekend because Jordan's cat was "a little too interested in aquatic life."

Maya had spent seventy-two hours stressing about that fish. She'd researched proper pH levels. She'd bought special fish food. She'd literally spent twenty minutes staring at the bowl, whispering motivational quotes like, "You got this, Goldie. Live your best fish life."

Now Jordan was **running** late, and the goldfish bowl sat on their lab table, looking suspiciously still.

"Is it..." Jordan whispered, sliding into the seat next to her, cheeks flushed. "Is it okay?"

Maya's stomach dropped. "I was literally about to ask you the same thing."

They both leaned closer to the bowl. Goldie floated sideways, gills barely moving.

"Oh my god," Maya said. "Oh my GOD. If I killed your fish, I can never show my face in this school again. I'll have to change my name and move to Alaska."

Jordan poked the glass. Goldie jolted, did a rapid lap around the bowl, and returned to glaring at them with significant fish attitude.

Maya let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "That fish just punked us."

Jordan laughed, and something warm and jittery bloomed in Maya's chest. "Yeah. She's got more personality than half the people in this class."

Coach Martinez's whistle pierced the air from the field outside, signaling the end of warm-up laps. Maya's legs would probably hate her tomorrow, and she was definitely going to need more water, and maybe like twelve more of those strawberry gummy vitamins.

But for the first time all week, she didn't feel like a zombie at all.