Goldfish Apocalypse

The cafeteria was a battlefield. Marcus moved like a zombie, barely conscious, shuffling past the lunch ladies who ladled mystery meat onto trays with surgical precision. Three hours of sleep would do that to you—thanks, AP History cram session.

"Dude, you look dead," said Jenna, sliding onto the bench across from him. She was the kind of pretty that made your brain short-circuit, all confidence and perfectly messy curls. Marcus had been crushing on her since seventh grade, when she'd stuck up for him against that jerk Tyler in the hallway.

"Thanks, Jen. Really boosting my ego here." Marcus poked at his food. "Mom made me give Finny a funeral this morning."

"Your goldfish? The one that won't die?"

"Finally kicked it. Dad got all weird about it, made me bury it in the backyard with full honors. Said it was about 'respecting life.' Pretty rich coming from the guy who forgot to feed him for three years straight."

Jenna laughed, and it was this sound that made everything else fade away. Marcus's best friend Rico appeared behind her, dropping his backpack with a heavy thud.

"Tyler's looking for you," Rico said, way too loud. Multiple heads turned. "Something about your 'goldfish funeral' being totally bull."

Marcus's stomach dropped. Tyler was the kind of guy who made everything a competition, who turned fish funerals into social warfare. He'd probably claim Marcus was making it up for attention, or that goldfish didn't deserve proper send-offs, or whatever nonsense he'd invented to feel superior.

"Let him come," Marcus said, surprising himself. "Seriously. I'm done with his—" He caught himself before swearing. "His nonsense."

"Since when did you grow a spine?" Jenna raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Since this morning, actually." Marcus couldn't explain it, but standing in the backyard, transferring Finny's tiny orange body from a tissue to a makeshift coffin (a really nice shoebox), he'd had this moment of clarity. Everything felt temporary. Even Tyler's reign of terror.

Tyler appeared at their table, surrounded by his usual crowd. "So, memorial service for a fish? That's lame, even for you, Marcus."

The table went quiet. Marcus looked at Tyler, really looked at him, and suddenly saw him for what he was: just another tired kid trying to matter. The zombie makeup from Halloween still smudged behind his ear. Everyone forgot to scrub it off sometimes.

"You want to come say a few words?" Marcus asked, straight-faced. "Rico's doing a eulogy."

Tyler blinked. The whole table blinked.

"What?"

"Finny was a good fish. Lived longer than your relationships, probably." Marcus said it quietly, and the cafeteria erupted. Jenna doubled over laughing, and even Rico was trying not to lose it.

That night, Marcus fell asleep feeling something shift inside his chest. The zombie fog was lifting. Somewhere in the backyard, a goldfish was at peace, and tomorrow he'd face whatever came next—zombie-like or not.