Fish Out of Water

The orange vest clung to me like a neon sign screaming "ROOKIE." My first day at Pet Paradise, stuck in the goldfish section while everyone else got to handle the "cool" pets. The ones that didn't just swim in circles and forget your face in three seconds.

A group of seniors from school wandered in, led by Ethan—the same Ethan who'd sat behind me in homeroom for three years without once noticing I existed. Until now, when I was wearing a polyester orange vest and smelled like processed fish food.

"Hey, Maya?" His eyes lit up. "Didn't know you worked here."

My brain short-circuited. "Just started. The fish section's surprisingly deep." I gestured vaguely at the goldfish tanks behind me. "These little guys have more personality than you'd think."

Lie. They had zero personality. But anything was better than admitting I was literally the goldfish girl.

"We're setting up this epic tank," Ethan said, leaning closer. "My cable's out at home anyway, so we figured why not go big with the aquarium setup. Need something centerpiece-worthy."

His friends scattered toward the reptile section. It was just us and twenty tanks of goldfish that kept staring at me with their dead, bubble-eyed judgment.

"The orange ones are pretty chill," I managed, my heart doing gymnastics. "Like, they're low-maintenance but still have vibes."

"Yeah?" Ethan stepped closer, and I could smell his cologne. Actual cologne, while I smelled like fish flakes. "Which one would you pick?"

I scanned the tanks, suddenly desperate for him to think I had taste. My finger pointed at a fat orange goldfish with flowing fins that looked like it was wearing a tattered prom dress.

"Him. He's got drama energy."

Ethan laughed, and it was the best sound I'd heard all day. "Drama energy. I dig it." He paused. "Hey, you want to come over and help us set it up? My parents are gone for the weekend. We could order pizza."

The invitation hung there—actual, genuine human interaction that wasn't me awkwardly pointing at fish.

"I'd..." I started, then noticed something floating sideways in the tank behind him. "Is that goldfish okay?"

We both turned. The orange one I'd picked was doing backstrokes at the water's surface.

"Oh," Ethan said. "That's... not great drama energy."

I didn't get the pizza or the invitation. But later, when my shift ended and I peeled off that orange vest in the break room, I caught my reflection in the mirror and actually smiled. Some days you're the person who gets the invite. Some days you're the girl who accidentally picked a dying fish in front of your crush. Either way, you survive.

And at least I wasn't swimming in circles.