Goldfish & Garage Hats

The plastic bag sloshed against my thigh, containing a single goldfish won from some rigged carnival game. My prize for throwing three dollars into a bottomless pit.

"You're not seriously taking that home," Maya said, cracking her gum. We were walking past the garage where the older kids hung out, and my palms were already sweating.

"His name is Bubbles," I lied. I didn't know if it was a he. I didn't know anything about goldfish except they were supposed to have three-second memories, which honestly sounded blessed.

Inside the garage, someone was swimming through a cloud of vape smoke — Lucas, the varsity baseball pitcher who'd somehow graduated from "awkward freshman" to "guy everyone worshipped" in one summer. He wore this beat-up dad hat backwards, the kind that screamed I don't try but I definitely try.

"Nice fish," Lucas said, not looking up from his phone.

My brain short-circuited. I was supposed to say something cool, something that fit this version of myself I was trying out — the version who didn't get nervous talking to baseball players, who didn't win goldfish at carnivals. But the old me, the me from two months ago, was still swimming somewhere beneath the surface, gasping for air.

"Thanks," I squeaked. "I'm, uh, starting a collection."

"A fish collection," Maya said. "Bold choice."

I caught Lucas's eye for half a second. He wasn't laughing. He was... waiting? Like I was about to say something that actually mattered.

"Yeah," I said, finding something real in my voice. "My brother used to have this whole aquarium setup. Before he moved out. I figured... I don't know. Maybe I could learn?"

Lucas actually looked up then. "That's kind of sick, actually. My little sister's been begging for one. What do they even need?"

And just like that, I wasn't swimming anymore. I was treading water, maybe, but I wasn't drowning.

"A filter," I said. "And definitely not a bag from a carnival."

"Truth," Lucas said, grinning. "Hey, you should come by sometime. Show me what you figure out. For my sister's sake."

"Yeah," I said, my palms suddenly dry. "I'd like that."

Outside, Maya shook her head. "You're welcome, by the way."

"For what?"

"For not letting you make it weird. You were, like, thirty seconds away from asking him to sign your goldfish."

Bubbles swam in lazy circles inside his plastic prison, completely unaware he'd just witnessed my first successful conversation with Lucas. Three-second memory my ass. Some things you don't ever forget.