Carnival Goldfish

The summer heat pressed against my skin like an unwanted hug. County fair day. The day I'd been dreading since Jordan invited me—or rather, since his **friend** Tyler invited me, and Jordan got dragged along too. Social math was never my strong suit.

"Come on, it'll be sick," Tyler said, already vibrating with that manic energy he always got around crowds. I trailed behind them, trying to look casual and failing. My **orange** hoodie was probably a mistake in July, but it was my security blanket. Armor against the world.

We stopped at the ring toss booth. The guy running it had that practiced carny smile, all teeth and no eyes.

"Step right up, gentlemen. Three tosses for five bucks. Winner takes home a prize."

I wasn't going to play, but Tyler shoved a five-dollar bill into my hand. "Your turn, scaredy-cat."

The first ring bounced off the peg. So did the second. But the third—this one felt different leaving my fingers. It arced perfectly and dropped straight onto a peg. A direct hit.

"Winner!" The carny gestured to a row of plastic bags filled with water. Tiny **goldfish** darted inside each one, barely enough room to turn around. Their mouths opened and closed in perpetual surprise.

I picked the bag at random. The fish inside was barely the size of my thumb, its scales shimmering like something from another world. I'd won. For the first time in forever, I'd actually won.

"What are you gonna name it?" Jordan asked. He seemed genuinely interested, which surprised me.

"I don't know."

"**Bull**," Tyler suggested. "Like, bullseye. You nailed it."

"Bull the goldfish," Jordan repeated. "That's actually kinda fire."

We walked the rest of the fair with me cradling this plastic bag like a fragile secret. For the first time, I wasn't Jordan's awkward friend, or Tyler's charity case. I was the guy with the goldfish. The guy who'd won something.

Later that night, sitting in my room with Bull swimming in his proper tank, I realized something. The fish wasn't the prize. Neither was the victory. The real prize was walking through those gates with people who actually wanted me there.

My phone buzzed. A group chat notification. Tyler: "Bull lived through the night? 🐟"

I smiled and typed back: "Bull's built different."

For the first time, I believed it—about the fish, and maybe, just maybe, about me too.