Goldfish Summer

My palms were sweating so hard I could've watered the Sahara. Standing outside Jordan's house, clutching a clear plastic bag containing my redemption—a fantail goldfish won at the carnival last night. Yeah, I spent twenty bucks trying to win it. No, I don't want to talk about it.

The cable guy from next door was drilling into something, his uniform stained with grease. He caught me staring and gave a sympathetic nod. "First time at this address?" he called out. I couldn't even answer. Just nodded like an idiot.

My phone buzzed. Group chat blowing up with everyone discussing the baseball game tonight. The gang. Jordan's friends. The people I desperately wanted to be part of but felt like I was watching through a foggy window. They were all going, and somehow, through a series of texts that still felt surreal, Jordan had invited me too.

"You coming in or what?" Jordan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame like they owned the place. Their eyes dropped to the plastic bag. "Is that... is that a goldfish?"

"His name is Bubbles," I said, like that made it better.

Jordan burst out laughing. Not mean laughter, but the kind that crinkles their eyes. "Oh my god, you actually kept it. I thought you were joking when you texted me about it."

"Why would I joke about Bubbles?" I shot back, feeling my shoulders drop for the first time all day.

"Come inside, you weirdo. We need to find a bowl before Bubbles gets traumatized."

Inside, Jordan's house smelled like vanilla and old books. We ended up running to the kitchen, frantically searching for something that could house a fish while the group chat kept blowing up about the baseball game. Jordan pulled out a crystal bowl from a cabinet, eying it skeptically. "This was my mom's prize possession. If she finds out...

"We'll blame it on the cable guy," I suggested.

"Obviously."

That night, sitting on Jordan's couch with Bubbles swimming peacefully in his makeshift home, watching the baseball game on TV while Jordan's friends argued over stats, I realized something. I wasn't running away anymore. I was exactly where I needed to be.

"Hey," Jordan whispered, bumping my shoulder. "Glad you came."

"Me too," I said, and for once, my palms weren't sweating at all.