Zombie Goldfish Summer

Maya's brain felt like it had been through a woodchipper. Finals week had turned her into something resembling a zombie, shuffling through the hallways of Northwood High with dark circles that rivaled her favorite eyeliner. Even three caramel frappuccinos wasn't cutting it anymore.

"You look dead," said Chloe, sliding into the booth at Beach Break Burger. "Like, actually deceased."

"Thanks, Chloe. Really selling the supportive best friend thing."

Chloe laughed, her palm-tree-printed shirt practically vibrating with tropical energy. "I'm just saying. Tonight's party at Jake's is exactly what you need. His parents have that insane pool with the waterfall. You're going."

Maya groaned. "Social interaction sounds terrible right now. I can barely remember my own middle name, let alone make small talk with people."

"That's the zombie brain talking. You'll thank me tomorrow."

Four hours later, Maya stood by Jake's pool, clutching a red plastic cup of something that definitely wasn't soda. The backyard was packed—people in the pool, people on the patio furniture, people practically draped over the palm trees like tired ornaments. Jake's house was basically a mansion, which made sense since his dad was some tech bro who probably didn't understand what a normal mortgage looked like.

Then she saw it.

On a decorative table near the tiki torches sat a fishbowl. Inside swam a single goldfish, its orange scales shimmering under the string lights. It kept swimming to the glass, then darting away, then swimming back.

"His name is Bubbles," said a voice behind her.

Maya turned to find Jake standing there, swim trunks and tank top, looking annoyingly attractive in that way that made her brain short-circuit. "I won him at the carnival last week. Pretty sure he's judging everyone at this party."

"Goldfish have a three-second memory," Maya said, then immediately wondered why she felt the need to fact-check him. "So he's probably not judging anyone. He's just eternally surprised by his own existence."

Jake laughed. Actually laughed. "That's deep, Maya. You should write philosophy books."

"I'm delirious from lack of sleep," she admitted. "Everything feels profound right now."

"Same," he said. "I've been running on energy drinks and anxiety since spring break started." He gestured to the fishbowl. "Wanna know something weird about Bubbles?"

"What?"

"I forgot to feed him yesterday. And he's still fine. Either he's secretly immortal, or he's been eating something else. Maybe he's a zombie goldfish."

Maya snorted. "That's the most Florida thing I've ever heard. A zombie goldfish who survives on party snacks and pure spite."

"Exactly." Jake stepped closer. "Hey, can I show you something? It's kinda dumb but..."

"Dumb is my specialty right now."

He led her to a cluster of palm trees at the edge of the property, where a small wooden sign read "PALM READINGS: $5 OR BETTER JOKES."

"My sister thinks she's psychic," Jake explained. "She set this up for the party. It's mostly just an excuse to make people let her read their palms and tell them they're going to marry rich."

"And this is where you bring all the girls? Smooth."

"You're the first one I've brought here all night," he said, and something about the way he said it made Maya's stomach do that uncomfortable flip thing.

His sister appeared from behind a palm frond like some sort of tropical ninja. "Oh finally! I've been waiting to read someone's palm who actually needs it." She grabbed Maya's hand before she could protest. "You're going through it right now. The sleep deprivation, the overthinking, the feeling like you're underwater."

Maya blinked. "Okay, that's creepy accurate."

"Also," the sister continued, "you're worried you're forgetting who you are. But you're not. You're just growing. Like a palm tree—but with less coconut potential."

"Thanks for that."

Jake's sister grinned. "No charge. Your aura is chaotic enough to be entertaining." She disappeared back into the darkness.

Jake stood there, palm against the palm tree trunk like he was grounding himself. "So."

"So."

"Wanna go check on Bubbles? I feel like he might be planning something."

"A zombie goldfish uprising?" Maya smiled, feeling something like hope bubbling in her chest. "I'd be down for that."

They walked back to the party, and for the first time in weeks, Maya didn't feel like a zombie anymore. She felt like a girl who might be starting to remember how to be alive.