Chlorine & Goldfish

The first day of my summer job as pool monitor at the Oakwood Community Center, I walked in ready to enforce rules and look official. Instead, I found myself locked in a stare-down with Buster—the senior citizen's golden retriever who'd figured out how to push the handicap door button.

"You're not supposed to be in here," I said, channeling my best authority voice. Buster wagged his tail and trotted straight to the shallow end, where a plastic bag containing a single goldfish floated near the edge. Someone's carnival prize, abandoned like a bad decision.

That's when Jamie walked in—sweat-drenched, holding a vitamin water like it was holy water, wearing that vintage band tee that made my stomach do that stupid flip thing it does whenever he's around.

"Your dog's stealing the ecosystem," I said, because apparently my brain defaults to sarcasm around cute boys.

Jamie grinned. "Buster's a rebel. Also, that goldfish? It's actually performing a vital service. Eating mosquito larvae. Nature's pool filter."

"You named the goldfish?"

"Gerald. And he's basically an unpaid intern."

I should have written Buster up. I should have fished Gerald out with the net. Instead, I found myself sitting on the pool edge with Jamie, legs dangling in the water, watching his dog nap next to a plastic bag containing possibly the world's most unenthusiastic goldfish.

"My mom's making me take these vitamins now," Jamie said, gesturing at his drink. "Says I'm at that age where boys suddenly develop nutritional deficiencies."

"You're fifteen."

"Exactly. Apparently that's prime vitamin-deficiency age. Who knew?"

Buster sneezed. Gerald swam in a defiant circle. Jamie's knee brushed against mine, electricity that had nothing to do with the questionable wiring around the pool.

"Next time," I said, "maybe bring Gerald a proper bowl."

"Next time?" Jamie raised an eyebrow, and the way he looked at me made me think he wasn't talking about the goldfish.

"Yeah. If you're gonna break the rules, at least do it properly."

Jamie's smile was soft, real. "Tomorrow? Same time?"

"Sure," I said, trying to sound casual. "But you're bringing the dog food."

That summer, I learned that some rules are meant to be tested, some goldfish are surprisingly resilient, and sometimes the best things happen when you stop monitoring the pool and start swimming in it.