Goldfish Confessions

My **goldfish** was the only one who truly understood me. I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, staring into Captain Fin's bowl as I mentally rehearsed my introduction to the group.

"You got this, Marcus," I whispered, adjusting my snapback **hat** two inches to the left. Then to the right. Then back again. The hat was my armor—without it, I felt exposed, like my curls were somehow too much for the world to handle.

My **iPhone** buzzed. *Group chat: PARTY AT JAKE'S 8 PM. BE THERE OR BE SQUARE.*

8:07 PM. I was already fashionably late. Or just awkwardly late.

I grabbed my charger, but the **cable** was frayed at the end. Great. 12% battery. Perfect.

At dinner, Mom had made her famous salad—loaded with **spinach**, because apparently I needed more iron in my life. I'd hurriedly eaten, too nervous about tonight to focus on chewing properly. A fatal error.

When I finally arrived at Jake's house, the music was already thumping. I hovered near the doorway, my hat pulled low. Groups of kids stood in circles, laughing like they'd known each other forever.

"Hey! Marcus!" Jake waved from across the room. "You made it!"

I made my way over, trying to look cool, trying to look like I belonged. But something felt off. People were smirking. Whispering.

"Dude," said Maya, the girl I'd been crushing on since September. "You have..."

She pointed to her teeth. I froze.

I sprinted to the bathroom. There it was. A giant piece of **spinach** wedged between my front teeth, like a green banner announcing my awkwardness to the world.

I wanted to disappear. Wanted to go home and talk to Captain Fin about how I'd ruined my social life forever.

But then someone knocked. Maya.

"Happens to everyone," she said through the door. "Last week? I walked around with chocolate on my face for three hours."

I opened the door. She was smiling.

"Your hat's cool," she said. "Where'd you get it?"

We talked for an hour. About nothing, about everything. My phone died at 9%, but I didn't even care.

Some nights, you plan for perfection. Other nights, you get spinach in your teeth and somehow still win.

Captain Fin would be proud.