Goldfish Gravity

The invitation said 'pool party,' which should've been chill, but my stomach was doing full-on gymnastics. Sophomore year and I still hadn't cracked the social code at Northwood High. Everyone else was already in the water, laughing at inside jokes I'd never been part of.

I adjusted my snapback—low, trying to channel some energy I definitely didn't feel. My little brother's goldfish, Bubbles, had died that morning, and I was still carrying that weird heavy feeling in my chest. Not like I could tell anyone that. 'Sorry I'm being weird, my fish passed away' wasn't exactly a vibe.

'Yo, Marcus, you gonna swim or just stand there looking like a baseball card?' Tyler called out. Everyone laughed. I managed a half-smile, hating how my face flushed.

Then Sarah—actual Sarah, who I'd had a crush on since September—climbed out of the pool. Water dripped from her hair like she was in some music video. She walked over, and my brain short-circuited.

'Nice hat,' she said. 'You good?'

'Yeah. Just—my goldfish died.' The words fell out before I could stop them. Smooth, Marcus. Real smooth.

Sarah's expression softened. 'Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's actually the worst.' She sat next to me on the lounge chair. 'I had this cat, Mittens, growing up? She lived to be twenty. I cried for a week when she passed.'

'Really?'

'Straight up. Pets hit different.' She bumped my shoulder with hers. 'Hey, you know Tyler's just trying to be funny, right? He's not actually terrible.'

I looked at the pool, at all the people I'd been overthinking all year. Maybe it wasn't as complicated as I'd made it.

'Wanna play chicken?' Sarah asked, standing up. 'Tyler and Jenna think they're champions. We could destroy them.'

I grinned, sliding my hat backward. 'Bet.'

Bubbles would've wanted me to make a move. Sometimes the smallest things have the biggest gravity, and sometimes you just gotta jump in the pool even when you can't see the bottom.