Goldfish Lightning

My hair was doing that thing again—the frizz halo that screamed I'd spent three hours trying to look effortless. Maya's party started in twenty minutes, and I was currently having a standoff with my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"You got this, Sofi," I whispered, spraying enough dry shampoo to choke a small mammal.

The real disaster wasn't my hair though. It was the carnival goldfish swimming in a bowl on my dresser, the one I'd won because SOMEONE (*cough* Jake) thought it would be hilarious to teach me how to toss a ping pong ball into a tiny cup. Now I was pet-parent to a fish I'd named Lightning because of its orange-gold coloring, and I had to bring it to Maya's because my parents were "worried it would get lonely."

Ridiculous. This was my life now.

When I showed up at Maya's clutching a plastic bag with a fish, Jake opened the door, looking unfairly good in his flannel. His messy hair was perfect, obviously.

"Is that... a fish?" His brown eyes crinkled.

"His name is Lightning," I said, lifting my chin. "And he's very sensitive about his traveling conditions."

Jake laughed, and I felt that weird electricity in my stomach, like Lightning's bowl had just been dropped.

"Come on, Fish Girl. Let's put him somewhere safe."

We ended up on Maya's back porch, just the two of us, watching Lightning swim circles in his temporary home. The backyard string lights flickered as actual lightning lit up the sky far off, matching the energy buzzing between us.

"So," Jake said, leaning against the railing. "I kind of lied about the ping pong balls. I already knew how to play. I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you."

My heart did this embarrassingly gymnastic move. "Wait, really?"

"Really." He stepped closer. "I also may have asked the carnival guy to let me win you that fish."

I stared at him, then at Lightning, who was now doing what looked like a celebratory lap.

"You're the worst," I said, smiling. "But also, possibly the best."

The cat that lived next door chose that moment to streak across the fence, making both of us jump. Jake grabbed my hand to steady me, and neither of us let go.

"Next time," he said, "maybe we skip the fish."

"Deal," I said, as actual thunder rumbled overhead. "But you're still carrying Lightning home."