Goldfish Summer

My goldfish was the only one who understood me. His name was Ziggy, and he'd survived three weeks in my care despite my mom's prediction that he'd last three days. We were both just surviving, honestly.

"You need these vitamins," my mom said, dropping a bottle on my desk beside Ziggy's bowl. "And maybe some actual sunlight wouldn't kill you."

I rolled my eyes so hard I practically saw my brain. The vitamins were for my "immune system" or whatever. The real immune boost I needed was against high school—specifically against sitting alone at lunch while pretending to be super busy on my iPhone.

That's when I saw it: Jordan from my English class posted a story. Running club. 6 AM tomorrow. Nobody from our toxic friend group would ever be caught dead at 6 AM doing anything voluntary.

Perfect.

The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed. My legs felt like they were made of lead, but I laced up my dad's old running shoes anyway. The air was crisp, cool, totally unlike the suffocating hallways of school.

"You must be new," said a voice. Jordan. Same Jordan who'd posted the story. Their hair was pulled back in a messy bun, cheeks already flushed from the cold.

"Yeah," I managed. "First time."

"Cool. We go easy on newbies."

Running turned out to be nothing like gym class where everyone watched you struggle. Jordan set a pace that was actually doable, and soon I was falling into a rhythm I didn't know I had. My lungs burned but in a good way, like I was finally breathing after holding my breath for months.

Afterward, we sat on the curb, sweaty and gross but somehow not caring. Jordan pulled out their iPhone and showed me this playlist they'd made for running.

"Ziggy would hate this," I blurted out.

"Ziggy?"

"My goldfish. He's dramatic."

Jordan laughed—a real laugh, not the fake one they used at school when someone made a terrible joke. "I bet he's great company."

"He's better than most people."

"Fair." Jordan nudged my shoulder. "Same time tomorrow?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

That night, I actually took the vitamins. I fed Ziggy. And for the first time since seventh grade, I didn't scroll through Instagram obsessing over who was hanging out without me.

Some things are worth running toward. Even at 6 AM. Even if your legs feel like lead. Especially if there's someone who gets it—goldfish, weird playlists, and all.