Zombie Mode & Goldfish Dreams

Max hadn't slept since finals week started. Three days of Zombie Mode, fueled by vanilla cold brew and the desperate hope that AP Chemistry wouldn't completely derail his GPA. His eyes burned, his brain felt like mush, and the best part of his day was talking to Neptune—his carnival-won goldfish—about how weird it was that Maya hadn't replied to his text in forty-seven hours.

"She's just busy, Neptune," Max whispered, dropping another flake of fish food into the bowl. "Prom's Saturday. She's probably, like, planning her outfit or something."

Neptune ignored him, doing that blank goldfish stare that Max found weirdly comforting.

"Mr. Harrison says I need a personal best at the track meet Friday or I'm not varsity material," Max continued. "No pressure, right? Just my entire high school legacy hanging on a stupid 400-meter dash."

He checked his phone again. Still nothing from Maya. The text read: "Hey! Wanna hang before prom? Just us? No big deal if not haha." The 'haha' felt pathetic in hindsight. Why had he added that? Why was he like this?

His phone buzzed. Maya.

"sorry!! been so stressed 💔 can we talk saturday? after the meet?"

Max stared at the screen. Saturday. After. She wanted to talk after.

He lay back on his bed, ceiling spinning slightly from sleep deprivation. Everything felt huge and scary and impossible. Then his eyes landed on Neptune's bowl.

Neptune was floating sideways.

"No," Max said. "No, no, no."

He sat up, heart hammering. Neptune's gills weren't moving. The little orange fish that had listened to all his secrets about Maya and track and his parents' divorce—gone. Just like that.

And suddenly Max was running. Out the door, down the street, past the 7-Eleven where he and Maya had gotten Slurpees after homecoming, running until his lungs burned and his legs felt like lead. Running away from the goldfish, the text, the expectations, the zombie-exhaustion, everything.

He stopped at the park where the track team practiced, bent over, gasping. The sun was coming up, painting everything pink and gold. His phone buzzed again.

Maya: "actually forget saturday. meet me at the track tonight? 7pm? i want to watch you practice 💪"

Max stood there, sweaty and exhausted, and for the first time in days, he didn't feel like a zombie at all. He felt alive.

Neptune would've wanted him to go for it, he decided. That little goldfish had been braver than Max ever gave him credit for.

He started running home. Time to get ready for his personal best.