Goldfish at the Finish Line

The baseball cap sat on my dresser, crown creased exactly how Dad used to wear it before he moved out. Three months ago, Maya had given it to me after track practice, grinning like she'd just handed me the moon instead of some faded blue hat. Now she was dating Tyler from the soccer team, and I was alone with a goldfish named Cheeseburger in a bowl on my nightstand.

"Take your vitamin," Mom called from the kitchen. She'd been saying that every morning since the divorce, like a single multivitamin could fix everything that broke when Dad left.

I grabbed the orange pill bottle. Outside, rain lashed against my window. Perfect weather for running.

Track was my escape. When I was running, lungs burning, legs pumping, I didn't think about Maya kissing Tyler in the hallway. I didn't think about Dad's empty chair at dinner. I just thought about forward motion, about the finish line, about being faster than whatever was chasing me.

But today the weather had other plans. The cable TV flickered, then died completely. No Netflix, no Instagram, no distraction from the pictures of Maya and Tyler that kept popping up on my feed.

"Great," I muttered.

Cheeseburger swam to the front of his bowl, mouth opening and closing like he had something important to say. The carnival goldfish Maya had won me on our first date. Back when she looked at me like I was someone worth keeping.

My phone buzzed. A text from Marcus: *Track practice cancelled. Coach says flooding on the field.*

I slumped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stars were peeling off. Dad had put those up when I was seven. Now they were falling, one by one, like everything else.

"Honey?" Mom appeared in my doorway, holding her own phone. "Cable's out. Want to play cards?"

I looked at Cheeseburger. I looked at Dad's hat. I looked at Mom, waiting in the hallway like she wasn't sure I still wanted her around.

"Sure," I said. "But first, I think I need to go for a run."

"In this weather?"

"Yeah. I'll be back."

I pulled on the hat, grabbed my phone, and headed out into the rain. Some things you run toward. Some things you run from. And some things—like goldfish and forgiveness—you just have to learn to keep swimming alongside, even when the water gets rough.