Goldfish Code

The carnival lights blurred through my tears as I clutched the plastic bag containing my prize — a pathetic orange goldfish that was probably already dead. I'd spent twenty dollars on rigged games just to win it, all because my crush Jake was watching.

"Nice fish," Chloe said, side-eyeing me. She knew exactly why I'd played. She knew everything that happened in our friend group, because she made it her business to spy on everyone's Instagram stories, Snapchat scores, and relationship drama. Chloe didn't miss a thing.

The goldfish floated motionlessly in its bag. Great. First crush fails, now I was a fish murderer.

"It's not dead," Jake said suddenly, appearing beside us. "They do that when they're stressed. He needs conditioned water."

I blinked. Jake — the same Jake who called me 'Fish Girl' after I choked on a tuna sandwich in sixth grade — was giving me pet care advice?

"My sister raises these," he continued, actually looking at me instead of through me. "If he makes it through the night, I'll help you set up a proper tank. No BS — I've got a spare filter and everything."

Chloe's eyebrows practically shot off her face. I'd caught her spying on Jake's socials enough times to know she thought he was a player. But standing there under the carnival lights, Jake seemed different. Or maybe I was just finally seeing him.

"Why?" I asked, genuinely confused.

He shrugged, that half-smile I'd been crushing on for months finally directed at me. "Because you tried really hard to win him. That counts for something."

The goldfish darted suddenly, alive and swimming. Jake noticed and smiled — really smiled. My stomach did that embarrassing flutter it always did around him.

"Text me updates?" he said, then walked back toward the arcade where his friends were waiting.

Chloe grabbed my arm. "OH MY GOD. He literally just asked for your number. I've been spying on his stories for MONTHS and he never even notices I exist. You, however, just got invited to his house for fish tank setup. This is HUGE."

I looked at my goldfish, suddenly swimming energetically, and felt something shift. Maybe taking chances — even dumb ones like spending twenty dollars on carnival games — paid off sometimes.

"Yeah," I said, watching Jake disappear into the crowd. "Maybe he's not so bad."

"Not bad?" Chloe practically squealed. "He's a goldfish-saving wizard who just asked for your number. This is the best carnival night EVER."

My phone buzzed. Unknown number: 'This is Jake. Don't forget to change the water tomorrow :)'

I grinned at my fish. "Well, little guy," I whispered. "Looks like we both got lucky tonight."