Goldfish Summer

I was supposed to be watching my little brother's goldfish while the family was at Grandma's, but instead I was too busy having my first real heartbreak over text message. The goldfish — a pathetic orange speck named Fin — kept swimming in frantic circles, probably sensing the existential crisis radiating from my bed.

"You're not helping," I told Fin, who was currently doing laps around his tiny castle like he was training for the fish Olympics. "At least you don't have to read texts that say 'I think we should see other people' when you literally go to the same school and have three classes together."

My phone buzzed again. Not him. My best friend Jade, spamming me with papaya emojis and asking if I wanted to hit the pool. Her older sister was home from college and had apparently brought "the most gossip" about why Tyler actually dumped me.

"Public service announcement," I said to Fin. "We're going swimming. Don't die."

I grabbed my towel, feeling that weird mix of dreading and needing to know. The sidewalk baked under my flip-flops as I power-walked to Jade's, half-running like I could outrun the embarrassment if I just moved fast enough.

Jade's pool was already chaos — three of our friends were there, plus her sister's college friends who looked impossibly cool and old. Someone was blasting that song that had been all over TikTok, and there were half-empty papaya smoothies everywhere because Jade's sister was apparently obsessed with them now.

"Oh my GOD, here's the main character," someone called as I slid in, chlorine hitting my nose like comfort. "Tyler texted Emily immediately after you. Like, within minutes."

"He said he needed space?" I said, treading water as my stomach did that hollow thing.

"Bro needed space," Jade agreed, rolling her eyes. "To flirt with half the sophomore class."

We spent hours alternating between vicious roasting of Tyler and floating on inflatable noodles, talking about everything and nothing. College applications. How weird it was that we were all growing up. How we'd never be the same people we were at the start of summer.

By dusk, I was exhausted — the good kind. I walked home slowly this time, no running.

Fin was still swimming in circles, but he slowed down when I tapped the glass. I dropped a pinch of food in, watching him surface.

"You know what?" I whispered. "You're doing great, buddy."

The heartbreak still sucked, but somehow the goldfish, the papaya smoothies, the chlorine in my hair, the running between houses — it was all part of this weird, messy summer where everything was changing at once. And maybe that was okay.