Goldfish in the Deep End

The pool party was already in full swing when I showed up, fashionably late but internally panicking. Chloe's house looked like something out of a teen drama—string lights everywhere, Spotify playlist bumping, and half the sophomore class already in the water. I clutched my tote bag like it contained state secrets instead of my phone, sunscreen, and Nemo.

Yeah, I'd brought my pet goldfish to a pool party. My little sister was supposed to watch him while I was out, but she'd "forgotten" and bounced to the mall with friends. So here I was, stuck with Nemo in a plastic baggie inside a mason jar, because I wasn't about to leave him home alone to die.

"Hey! You made it!" Chloe materialized beside me, already smelling like chlorine and expensive perfume. "Everyone's in the pool! Come on!"

"I, uh..." I gestured vaguely at my clothes, even though I had my swimsuit on underneath. Was I really about to explain that I couldn't get wet because I was babysitting a fish?

Before I could answer, a splash fight broke out near the diving board. My stomach did that thing where it feels like it's trying to exit through your throat. Because over by the waterfall feature stood Jordan Martinez, varsity baseball captain, currently shirtless and laughing at something Tyler said.

I'd been lowkey obsessed with Jordan since seventh period English when he'd helped me pick up my dropped books and said my handwritten notes were "actually kinda aesthetic." Which probably meant nothing, but my brain had been running with it for three weeks.

"You gonna stand there all night or actually socialize?" appeared in front of my face. Jordan. Standing right there. Water droplets running down his chest.

"I'm... socially pacing," I heard myself say. Social pacing? What even was that?

Jordan's eyebrow went up. "Is that a thing now?"

"It's definitely a thing," I said with zero confidence.

"Cool." He glanced at my tote bag. "What's in there?"

My brain short-circuited. Do I tell the truth and look weird? Do I lie and risk getting caught? Do I jump in the pool and hope the water washes away my dignity?

"It's a... surprise," I said weakly.

"Mysterious." Jordan grinned, and oh no, that was even worse than if he'd just walked away. "I like mysteries."

He started reaching for the bag. I pulled it back.

"No, really, it's boring—"

"Come on, let me see—"

The tote strap snagged on something, and suddenly the mason jar was sliding out. I lunged for it, Jordan lunged for it, and we both ended up tangled together, my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me to catch the jar before it hit the concrete.

Time stopped. Like, actually stopped. I could feel his heartbeat against my spine. He smelled like pool water and that deodorant commercial where everyone runs through a field.

We stood there frozen for what felt like seven years but was probably three seconds. Then:

"Is that... a goldfish?" Jordan whispered in my ear.

"His name is Nemo," I whispered back. "I couldn't leave him home alone."

Jordan started shaking against me, and I realized he was laughing. Not mean laughing—actual laughing.

"You brought your fish to a pool party?" he said, finally pulling back but still standing way too close. "That's honestly the most chaotic thing I've ever heard."

"I know, I'm weird—"

"No," he said, looking at me with this expression I couldn't quite read. "It's kinda... I don't know. Refreshing? Everyone here is trying so hard to be chill. You're just out here protecting your fish."

He looked at the pool, then back at me. "Hey, want to get out of here? There's this spot behind the baseball fields where the stars are actually visible. Nemo can come too."

I looked at the pool full of people I was supposed to be impressing. Then I looked at Jordan, who was somehow still smiling at me even though I'd just admitted to carting around a pet fish in a mason jar.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, I'd like that."

As we slipped away from the party, Nemo swimming along in his jar, I realized something: sometimes the weirdest parts of yourself are exactly what make someone want to stick around. And maybe that was worth more than fitting in perfectly ever could be.