Goldfish in the Deep End

The pool lights flickered across Jake's backyard, turning the water into something that looked almost magical. Almost. If you ignored the fact that Tyler was currently dared to swallow a whole can of spinach.

"No way, bro," Tyler said, hovering over the silver can like it might bite. "That's foul."

"Do it, do it!" chanted the swim team clique, led by Brianna, whose Instagram following tripled after she posted that swimming tutorial last month. Jake watched from the patio edge, nursing a lukewarm soda. This was exactly why he hated parties. Everything was a performance.

The goldfish bowl sat on the snack table, its lone inhabitant—won by some freshman at the carnival earlier—swimming in bored circles. Jake felt a weird kinship with it. Trapped, judged, expected to be entertaining.

"I'll do it," said Maya, Brianna's quiet friend who everyone forgot was there until she said something unexpectedly brilliant. "But only if Jake goes swimming in his clothes."

Every head turned. Jake felt his face heat up. He wasn't even wearing swim trunks—just jeans and his favorite vintage band tee that he'd thrifted specifically because no one else had it.

"What? Why me?"

"Because you've been standing there judging everyone for an hour," Maya said, her tone almost gentle. "And the goldfish looks like it needs a conversation."

Something about the way she said it made everyone laugh, but not in a mean way. Even Brianna cracked a smile.

Jake looked at the spinach can. Then at the pool. Then at Maya, who was already rolling up her jeans.

"Fine," he said, kicking off his sneakers. "But Maya, you're eating that spinach raw."

"Deal."

The cannon splash was legendary. Jake surfaced to applause, his jeans heavy but his chest somehow lighter. The goldfish swam closer to the glass, watching.

Later, soggy and shivering but actually happy for the first time all night, Jake sat with Maya by the fish bowl while Tyler dramatically gagged down spinach leaves.

"So," Maya said, "your bear shirt. Vintage?"

Jake looked down. The faded Grateful Dead dancing bear.

"Yeah. My dad's. From like, 1994." He paused. "You know bears are actually solid swimmers?"

Maya grinned. "Get out."

"Google it. They can swim like six miles per hour. Faster than humans."

"Interesting," she said, like she actually meant it. "Almost as interesting as you knowing random bear facts."

The goldfish did a lazy loop, and Jake thought maybe parties weren't so bad. Sometimes you just had to jump in fully clothed.