Goldfish Summer

The goldfish carcass floated in the bowl like a tiny orange disappointment. Three days. That's how long I'd kept it alive before my sophomore year officially began.

"You need to get out more," said Jordan, my oldest friend, who was currently sprawled across my bed scrolling through his iPhone like his life depended on it. "Your goldfish didn't die because you're cursed. It died because you overfed it. Like, literally. Google it."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Dr. Phil. And I AM going out. Maya's party tonight."

Jordan sat up. "Wait, Liam's gonna be there."

My stomach did that annoying flippy thing it always did when someone mentioned Liam. Because yes, Liam with the hazel eyes and the dog that always managed to escape his backyard and end up in mine. The dog—a Golden Retriever named ironically enough, Goldie—was the reason I'd talked to Liam three weeks ago when I was eating spinach salad on the front porch because my mom was on this health kick and I was too broke to buy real food.

Liam had appeared in my yard, dog leash in hand, and asked if I'd seen his dog. I'd pointed to where Goldie was happily eating my dropped spinach. He'd laughed, and I'd almost forgotten how to breathe.

Tonight was my chance to actually talk to him without spinach or runaway dogs involved.

The party was exactly like every high school party—too loud, too many people trying too hard. I found myself in the kitchen, clutching a red plastic cup and watching Maya's dad's ancient fish tank like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Hey."

I spun around. Liam stood there, holding his phone, looking unfairly cute in that way boys do when they're not even trying.

"Hey," I managed back. Smooth.

"Your dog still eating random vegetables?" he asked with that grin that made my knees feel like they'd forgotten how to be joints.

"Only on Tuesdays," I said, and then somehow we were talking, really talking, about everything from goldfish funerals to how his iPhone had died in the pool last week, and I wasn't even thinking about how my hands might shake or if my hair looked stupid.

Jordan found us an hour later, giving me that look that said I'll-never-let-you-live-this-down.

"So," Liam said as his friends called him over, "maybe I could come by sometime? Officially? No escaped dogs required?"

"Yeah," I said, and I swear my goldfish would be proud. "I'd like that."