Goldfish & Backstroke

Marcus's summer was supposed to be epic—pool parties, chilling with squad, maybe finally getting the courage to text Maya. Instead, he was stuck watching his little brother's baseball tournament in ninety-degree heat while his parents 'had a romantic weekend' whatever that meant.

He was dying. Literally dying. The concession stand only had warm soda, and he'd already scrolled through TikTok three times. That's when he noticed Riley—the girl from third period English who somehow made Fyre Festival memes unironically—struggling to carry a clear plastic bag containing the saddest goldfish he'd ever seen. It was doing slow laps in its own tragic little world.

"He's not gonna make it," Riley said, thrusting the bag at him. "Watch him? I left my phone in the bathroom and I need to check if Dylan finally texted back."

Before Marcus could protest, she was gone, and he was palm-deep in goldfish babysitting duty. The fish swam to the bag's edge, staring at him with what looked suspiciously like judgment.

"Bro, I feel you," Marcus whispered. "This party blows."

Twenty minutes passed. Riley didn't come back. The goldfish kept swimming its tiny anxious circles, and Marcus was reconsidering every life choice that led to this moment. Then he spotted Riley by the pool, laughing with Dylan. The betrayal hit harder than it should've—they'd been gone five minutes and she'd already forgotten about her fish.

The goldfish did a weird flip near the bag's corner. Was he okay? Marcus Googled 'goldfish stress symptoms' on his phone because he had zero dignity left.

Someone cannonballed into the pool nearby, sending a wave toward the table. Marcus lunged, catching the goldfish bag before it tipped over. His palm stung from the plastic edges, but the fish swam on, completely unbothered, probably lowkey grateful someone finally had his back.

"You're good," Marcus told him. "We're both just trying to survive out here."

When Riley finally returned, breathless and glowing, Marcus handed back the bag like he was returning some precious artifact. She thanked him with the genuine enthusiasm of someone whose romantic life was actually working out, and he pretended he hadn't just spent half an hour bonding with her fish over mutual abandonment issues.

Later that night, Marcus got a notification from an unknown number: Riley's goldfish sent you a friend request. He laughed harder than he'd laughed all summer. Maybe August wasn't a total flop after all.