Goldfish in the Deep End

The carnival goldfish—won with three precisely thrown darts—swam circles in its plastic bag, mocking me. I clutched it like my entire social life depended on not dropping it, which honestly, it kinda did. Kai was waiting by the pool gate, checking his iPhone like he was expecting a call from the president instead of just hanging out with me.

"You brought it?" Kai raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-impressed.

"He's my good luck charm," I lied. My palm was sweating so hard I thought the bag might slip right out of my hand. This wasn't a date. Definitely not. Just two friends. At a pool party. On a Friday night. Totally casual.

Except it wasn't. Not when his smile did that thing where it reached his eyes. Not when everyone at school had been shipping us since seventh grade. Not when I was currently hiding behind a carnival goldfish like it was some kind of emotional support animal.

Someone cannonballed into the pool, sending a wave of water toward us. I scrambled back, nearly tripping over my own Converse. Instinctively, I started running—no clue where—just running away from the moment that was getting too real, too fast.

"Yo, wait up!" Kai chased after me, abandoning his phone on a beach chair.

I skidded to a stop near the palm trees at the edge of the yard, breathing hard. The goldfish bag bobbed against my chest.

"What's going on?" Kai stood there, wet hair dripping, chlorine and coconut sunscreen radiating off him. "You've been acting weird all night."

I stared at the fish swimming its tiny, pointless circles. How did it feel, living in a bag? Waiting for someone to finally put it somewhere real?

"I'm not good at this stuff," I admitted. "The whole feelings thing. The—us thing."

Kai stepped closer. "Yeah? I thought I was the only one who felt like they were gonna throw up."

The goldfish chose that exact moment to leap—or maybe just slip—out of the bag. It flopped onto the grass, gasping.

We both dropped to our knees, scrambling to save it. Our heads bumped. Our hands collided. And then we were laughing, this hysterical, ridiculous laughter, because there was a fish on the ground and we were both absolute disasters.

Together we nudged the goldfish into an empty solo cup someone had left on the grass.

"Okay," Kai said, still breathless, looking at me with those crinkling eyes. "Okay."

"Okay?" I echoed.

"Yeah. Like, we don't have to figure everything out tonight. We can just—be here. With the fish."

My palm stopped sweating. The goldfish swam happy circles in its new home. And maybe—just maybe—I didn't have to keep running anymore.