Goldfish, Bear, and Almost-Friends

Jordan's staring at her pet goldfish, Finnegan, swimming in endless circles in his bowl on her nightstand.

"You have it easy, Fin," she murmurs, watching his orange scales flash under her LED strip lights. "Just swim, eat flakes, repeat. Nobody expects you to be popular."

Her phone buzzes. It's Riley. Her former best friend. The one who accidentally-on-purpose replaced her with the cooler friend group. The one she hasn't spoken to since the incident at Maya's party two weeks ago.

*Can we talk? I know you're mad but I found your old bear at my house.*

Jordan's heart does this stupid little squeeze thing. That bear — the worn-out brown teddy bear she's had since she was four, the one she lost at Riley's sleepover last month. The one she cried about for three days because her dad gave it to her before he moved out.

She pops a vitamin C gummy into her mouth — her mom's solution to everything these days. "Boost your immunity, boost your mood!" Jordan rolls her eyes at the memory. As if a gummy could fix her social life.

But the bear. Riley has her bear. And she's reaching out.

Jordan types back: *Fine. Tomorrow after school?*

The next day, they meet at the park. Riley produces the bear from her backpack — his fur is matted, one button eye is loose, but he's intact.

"I found him under my bed," Riley says, not meeting Jordan's eyes. "I felt terrible. I know how much he means to you."

Jordan clutches the bear, smelling the familiar scent of home and childhood comfort. "Thanks. I thought he was gone forever."

Riley's quiet. Then, "I miss you, Jordie. The new friend group? They're not actually friends. They're just people I sit with at lunch. But you — you were my real friend."

Jordan looks at Riley, really looks at her. The girl who braided her hair in sixth grade, who held her hand when her grandpa died, who knew about Jordan's anxiety before anyone else.

"My goldfish gives better relationship advice than those people," Jordan says, but she's smiling a little.

Riley laughs. "I deserve that."

"Want to come meet him? His name is Finnegan."

"Finnegan the goldfish? Obviously."

They walk to Jordan's house, and it's not perfect — there's still awkwardness, still two weeks of distance between them. But as they watch Finnegan swim lazy circles, sharing headphones and listening to their old playlist, Jordan thinks maybe some friendships are like goldfish — they can survive if you take care of them. And maybe vitamins and bears and second chances aren't so bad after all.

She squeezes her bear a little tighter. Everything's going to be okay.