Goldfish Dreams & Fiber Optic Lies

I watched them through the gap in the bleachers, my very own stakeout operation. Being a spy wasn't as cool as movies made it look - mostly it meant overhearing conversations I wasn't supposed to and feeling weird about it later.

My goldfish, Fin, was the only one who knew my secret. I'd named him Fin because irony was dead and so were my chances of ever being cool enough to sit at the lunch table with Maya Rodriguez and her squad. Fin did his little swirl around his bowl, probably judging my life choices.

"You're being creepy," I told myself, but I couldn't look away.

Maya was laughing at something Ethan said. Ethan with his perfect hair and his dad's fancy job that somehow impressed everyone even though none of us actually understood what it was. Probably something with cable - wasn't everything? Like how we were all connected through these invisible wires but still felt completely alone.

The spinach stuck in my braces from lunch wasn't helping my dignity either. Why did I think eating that spinach wrap was a good idea? Spoiler: it wasn't.

I watched Maya reach across the table and tap Ethan's phone screen. They were looking at something together, leaning in close. My stomach did that awful twisty thing.

Fin swam to the front of his bowl and stared at me with those fishy eyes that probably saw more than fish should see.

"I know," I whispered. "Pathetic."

But then Maya looked up, right at my hiding spot. I froze. She didn't wave or look annoyed. She just... looked. Then she lifted her phone and took a picture.

What?

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"Spying on us from the bleachers? Bold choice. 🐟"

"Cable management crew last year," the next message read. "I saw your setup. You're not exactly subtle."

Before I could process that I was being noticed by Maya freaking Rodriguez, another message popped up.

"Want to actually come sit with us? Fin deserves better than those bleachers."

I looked at my goldfish, who was now doing an excited little dance.

"See you tomorrow," I typed back, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

As I walked home, I practiced my cool face in shop windows. The spinach was gone. Fin was still judging me. And tomorrow, for the first time since middle school started, I wouldn't be watching from the sidelines.

Being a spy was overrated anyway. Time to be part of the story instead.