Goldfish Courage

The cafeteria line moved like molasses, and somewhere behind me, Marcus—aka the biggest **bull**y at Northwood High—was probably plotting his next move. My palms were sweating, and not just because the air conditioning was busted again.

Three days ago, I'd finally stopped letting him copy my history homework. Yesterday, he'd "accidentally" knocked my tray onto the floor. Today was probably going to involve something worse.

"Hey, STEM nerd," Marcus's voice came from behind me. "Your brother's **goldfish** died yet?"

I froze. My brother was away at college, and I was taking care of his stupid goldfish, Gilligan, who was somehow still alive despite my questionable fish-keeping skills. Marcus must have seen me buying fish food at the pet store.

"Leave him alone," Maya said from beside me, giving Marcus her trademark death glare.

"Whatever," Marcus scoffed. "Just saying, it's pathetic."

We reached the food station, and there it was: a massive bowl of fresh **spinach**. Mom had been on a health kick forever, trying to get us to eat our greens. I'd always complained about it, made faces, pushed it around my plate.

But something clicked. Maybe it was Maya standing up for me. Maybe it was remembering how my brother had trusted me with Gilligan, believing I could handle it.

I loaded my plate with a massive portion of spinach—like, an actually insane amount.

"Since when do you eat that stuff?" Marcus laughed.

"Since I realized something," I said, my voice only shaking a little. "Being scared of stuff doesn't mean you have to stay scared."

Maya's jaw dropped. Marcus stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

"What?"

"I'm done letting you push me around," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You want my homework? Do it yourself. You want to make fun of me? Whatever. But I'm done being scared."

The silence stretched. And then—honestly, I still can't believe this—Marcus nodded. Like, actually nodded.

"Fair enough," he muttered, and walked away.

Maya high-fived me so hard my palm stung. That afternoon, I went home and actually talked to Gilligan for like ten minutes about standing up for yourself, even if you're just a fish who can't really understand much beyond "food" and "swim."

Sometimes growing up means eating spinach on purpose. Sometimes it means facing your bullies. And sometimes it's both, in the same terrible, wonderful day.