Goldfish at the End of the World

The plastic bag with the goldfish was sweating in my hand. Literally sweating—condensation slicking my palm as I stood at the edge of Chloe's pool party, the one I definitely wasn't invited to but had shown up to anyway because Riley said "everyone" was going and I believed him, because I'm an idiot who still believes things.

"Is that... is that a fish?" asked Marcus, who was shirtless and had that annoying confidence that comes with being good at lacrosse and having parents who don't divorce.

"His name is Kevin," I said, which wasn't true. I'd won Kevin at the carnival two hours ago and already regretted every decision leading up to this moment.

The pool glowed neon blue, packed with bodies performing that carefully orchestrated casualness that teenagers do—floats and splashes and laughter that felt just a little too loud. I couldn't get in. I was wearing trunks I'd bought sophomore year that were probably too tight now, and I was carrying a goldfish named Kevin, and most of all, I felt like I couldn't bear the weight of twenty people simultaneously assessing whether I deserved to exist in their proximity.

"That's kinda awesome though," said Chloe, appearing behind Marcus with that devastating easy grace that made her terrifying. "Wanna put Kevin in my mom's garden pond? He's probably stressed in that bag."

So we did—me and Chloe and Marcus and a growing procession of party-goers, following me and my bagged fish to the pond at the edge of the property, where I released Kevin into slightly murky water among several other fish who looked significantly more experienced at being fish.

"RIP Kevin," someone said.

"He's not dead," I protested. "He's living his best life now."

"Free at last," Chloe agreed, and then we were all standing around this pond in swimwear and bare feet, and nobody was checking phones or measuring social distance or pretending not to look at each other, and I realized the pool had been the wrong place all along.

"Wanna get in?" Marcus asked, gesturing back toward the water. "Like, actually in this time?"

"Yeah," I said, and stripped off my shirt, and for once didn't think about how my arms looked or whether anyone was watching. The pool was warmer than I expected, and when I surfaced, gasping, everyone was already splashing each other, and Kevin was probably doing whatever goldfish do when humans aren't watching, which I'm guessing is just swimming and thinking absolutely nothing at all.