Chasing Goldfish

I was running late, again. Third period gym class meant swimming, and I still had panic attacks about changing in the locker room. Everyone else seemed comfortable in their skin, stripping down without a second thought. Meanwhile, I'm in the corner stall, hyperventilating, trying to remember why I thought high school would be different from middle school.

Coach Miller—everyone called him The Bull behind his back—blew his whistle. "All right, everybody in the pool! Marcus, you're up first for laps."

I hate swimming. I really do. But what I hate more is how my body looks in a swimsuit. How everyone else looks like they've got it figured out, and I'm still stuck in this awkward in-between phase.

Later at lunch, Jasmine sat across from me, pushing spinach around her salad bowl. She's the kind of pretty that doesn't try—effortless, like she woke up that way. I've had a crush on her since seventh grade, which is basically forever.

"So," she said, not looking up. "My goldfish died this morning."

"Oh," I said, because what do you say to that? "Sorry?"

She finally looked at me, and her eyes were actual wet. "His name was Gerald. He was supposed to live for years, you know? But I got him last month and now he's just... gone. Floating at the top of the bowl."

I didn't know what to do, so I did something weird. I told her about my grandma's goldfish pond, how she had these massive koi that lived for like twenty years, and how she said sometimes fish just know when it's their time.

"She says it's not sad," I said. "They just complete their journey."

Jasmine stared at me for a second, and I thought I'd said something completely wrong. But then she smiled—a real one, not the fake ones she gave teachers.

"That's actually kind of beautiful," she said. "Complete their journey."

The Bull walked by our table, and I straightened up instinctively. But he just kept going, and Jasmine and I kept talking. About Gerald, about her summer plans, about how she's scared of driving.

"Maybe I can teach you," I heard myself saying. "I mean, if you want. My dad's been letting me practice in the church parking lot."

She smiled again, and something in my chest did this stupid fluttery thing.

"Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about goldfish and swimming pools and how Jasmine had looked at me like I was someone worth talking to. Maybe high school wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe some journeys are just beginning.