Fox and the Goldfish

Fox got her nickname in seventh grade when Mrs. Henderson said she was "sly as a fox" for talking her way out of detention. Now a junior, she'd embraced it—dyed her hair orange last weekend because she read online that foxes are actually orange-red, not red like everyone thinks.

Big mistake. The dye job turned her hair the color of a construction cone. Three days of school, and somehow the entire student body knew.

"Hey traffic cone!" some guy yelled across the cafeteria. Fox's face burned. She considered wearing a hoodie for the rest of the year.

That's when Jake found her.

"Hey," he said, sliding onto the bench. "Wanna get out of here?"

Jake, who she'd had a crush on since freshman bio. Jake, with the stupid perfect hair and the hoodie that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

"Where?" she asked.

"Town fair. My cousin's working the goldfish booth. We can snag some for free."

So they went.

They walked around the fair, ate overpriced funnel cake, talked about nothing and everything. Jake told her he'd gotten suspended for fighting a guy who kept using slurs against his little brother. Fox told him about the hair disaster.

"I mean it," she said. "I look like I'm wearing traffic safety gear on my head."

"Fox," he said, and she literally almost melted right there on the midway, "you look good. Orange suits you."

They ended up at his cousin's booth. His cousin gave them each a plastic bag with a goldfish swimming inside.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Fox asked.

"Keep it alive," Jake said. "Prove you're responsible enough to get a hamster."

She named him Goldie. He lived for three years.

The orange hair faded, eventually. But she kept dyeing it. Because Jake was right—orange did suit her. And because every time she caught her reflection, she remembered the day she realized she didn't have to be anyone else's version of normal.

The bully's voice from the cafeteria still echoed in her head sometimes. But then she'd look at her goldfish, swimming in his bowl, doing his fish thing like he owned the place. And she'd remember: traffic cones are bright for a reason. People are supposed to see them coming.

Fox learned to stop apologizing for taking up space.