Carnival Goldfish & First Base

Marcus adjusted his snapback for the fiftieth time, checking his reflection in the darkened window of the closed T-shirt stand. The hat was essential — his hair was doing something weird today, and if there was ever a night to not look like a complete dweeb, it was tonight.

"You nervous, bro?" Tyler asked, bouncing a baseball he'd snagged from the PE bin.

"No," Marcus lied, checking his palm. Sweaty. Awesome.

The carnival lights painted everything neon. Marcus wasn't here for the rides. He was here for Maya, who'd been in his English class since September but had somehow never noticed him existed. Until yesterday, when she'd laughed at his joke about Shakespeare being the original tumblr blogger.

"Dude, just talk to her," Tyler said, already wandering toward the funnel cake stand. "She literally smiled at you when you walked in."

That's when he saw it. The goldfish booth. Those rigged games where you toss ping-pong balls into tiny bowls. Marcus's brain supplied the most mid idea ever: win a fish, give it to Maya. Girls liked that stuff, right? It was thoughtful or whatever.

Five dollars and six failed attempts later, he was the proud owner of a plastic bag containing one very confused goldfish.

"Great," he muttered. "Now what?"

He found Maya near the palm reader's tent, watching her friend get her fortune told. She was wearing that denim jacket with all the patches, the one she'd worn every day since October. When she turned and saw him holding the fish bag, she didn't look weirded out. She smiled.

"Is that... a goldfish?"

"Yeah." Marcus's voice cracked. "I mean, I won it. At that booth. Over there."

"For me?" Her grin got wider.

"Unless you're allergic to fish or something, then I can literally just throw it —"

"No! It's perfect." She took the bag gently, like it was something precious. "I've wanted one forever. My mom says no pets, but she can't say no to a carnival prize, right?"

They sat on the grass near the baseball field's backstop, watching kids play under the lights. She told him about her bracelet collection. He told her about pitching for the school team. It wasn't even awkward.

"Worst first impression ever," he said, gesturing to the fish. "Sorry about that."

"Are you kidding?" Maya bumped his shoulder with hers. "Best impression. You won a fish for a girl you barely knew. That's, like, unhinged levels of confidence."

Marcus laughed so hard his hat fell off. He didn't even care.

"Hey," she said, softer now. "You gonna come to my game Friday? Softball?"

"Yeah," Marcus said, and he meant it. "Yeah, definitely."

His phone buzzed in his pocket — his mom, reminding him to take his vitamin. He ignored it. Some things were more important than vitamins.

The goldfish swam in lazy circles, suspended in water, like maybe Marcus was suspended in something too — this moment, this feeling, this girl who'd somehow noticed him when he wasn't even looking.

"He needs a name," she said.

"Baseball," Marcus said immediately.

Maya groaned. "Absolutely not. We're not being that basic."

"Fine. You name him."

"Palm," she said, gesturing to the trees above them. "Because we're sitting under palms and it's vaguely aesthetic."

Marcus laughed. "Palm the goldfish. Sure. Why not."

The night stretched out, golden and perfect, and Marcus didn't adjust his hat once.