Goldfish in the Storm

The carnival goldfish lived in a mason jar on my nightstand, a glittering orange reminder that Leo had actually noticed me. He'd won it for me at the spring fair, his hand brushing mine as he passed over the prize. I'd named him Ferdinand.

"You're NOT wearing that to Tyler's pool party," my sister had scoffed that afternoon, pointing at my bucket hat. But I needed it. The hat was my armor, covering the frizz I hadn't tamed after three hours with a straightening iron.

At the party, I hovered by the snack table, clutching a plate of papaya chunks Mom had packed. Everyone else had store-bought chips. I felt like I was carrying my entire cultural identity in Tupperware.

"What IS that?" Tyler's girlfriend asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Papaya," I said, my voice small. "It's... good."

I ate one piece defiantly. Sweet, musky, weirdly perfect. They turned back to their conversation about which boys were "down bad" for whom.

I slipped away to the pool's edge, dangling my feet in the water. That's when Leo found me.

"Hey," he said, sitting beside me. "How's Ferdinand?"

I almost choked on my papaya. "You remember his name?"

"Of course." Leo's brown eyes caught the patio lights. "I named him for a reason. Ferdy the brave. Like you, showing up to these things every week even though you hate them."

Lightning cracked across the sky, sudden and bright as a camera flash. Rain spilled down, turning the pool surface into silver chaos.

Everyone screamed and scrambled toward the house. Leo grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the covered porch. My hat flew off in the wind, exposing my wild hair to the storm.

I reached for it, but Leo shook his head. "Leave it. You look better without it."

We huddled under the porch, shoulder to shoulder, watching the rain hammer the pool where Tyler's expensive floats bobbed like abandoned toys.

"I brought papaya," I said suddenly, feeling brave. "It's actually really good if you give it a chance."

Leo laughed, and it was the best sound I'd heard all night. "Show me."

So there in the storm, sharing pieces of fruit from a plastic container, I finally stopped holding my breath. Something about the lightning, maybe. Or maybe just the way Leo looked at me like I was already the person I was trying to be.