Goldfish in the Lightning

The pool deck at the Hartwell Community Center smelled like too much chlorine and bad decisions. I was supposed to be **swimming** laps for regionals, but instead I was lurking behind the vending machine, spying on Tyler's crew through the reflection in the **orange** Gatorade machine.

I know, I know. **Spy** mission? At the community pool? My life had reached peak suburban tragedy.

But here's the thing – Tyler had been acting weird all week, and Maya had been ghosting my texts since Friday, and I was ninety percent sure they were plotting something. Probably about me. Probably about how I'd choked at the last meet and finished last in the 200 free.

A flash of **lightning** split the sky outside, illuminating the pool in this weird strobe-light effect. The lifeguard blew her whistle – everyone out, storm coming in. Perfect. Now I'd have to follow them.

I grabbed my stuff and trailed Tyler and Maya out the back exit, keeping like, three trees of distance between us. Professional stealth mode. They ducked into the pet store next door, and I waited exactly thirty seconds before following because that's what they do in movies, and movies are basically documentaries except cooler.

Inside, I pressed myself against a display of dog bones and watched them argue in front of the fish tanks. Tyler was gesturing at something. Maya kept shaking her head.

Then Tyler reached into his pocket and pulled out –

No way.

A plastic bag. Inside it: the saddest, fattest **goldfish** I'd ever seen, swimming in approximately two inches of cloudy water.

"It's for good luck," Tyler was saying. "Like, superstitious. Before every meet, I'm gonna feed it. And we're gonna name it after whoever we're racing against, and then we CRUSH them. It's psychological warfare, Maya. It's genius."

Maya deadpanned, "You bought a sentient being for psychological warfare."

"It was three dollars. And I named it Chad."

I started laughing and couldn't stop. They both whipped around and spotted me behind the dog bone display.

"Were you –" Maya started.

"Stalking us?" Tyler finished.

"Spying," I corrected. "There's a difference. Spying sounds more tactical."

The three of us stood there in the pet store aisle while thunder shook the windows, and suddenly I wasn't last place anymore. Suddenly I was part of whatever weird thing this was – goldfish psychological warfare and bad pet store decisions and people who maybe hadn't been ghosting me after all.

"We're getting tacos after," Maya said. "You coming?"

"Obviously," I said. "But Chad stays in the bag."