Lightning in Orange

The neon-orange wig sat on my dashboard like a traffic cone mocking my entire existence.

"You're seriously going through with this?" Marcus asked, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth.

"Bro, I have to. Chelsea's gonna be there."

"Your crush is gonna see you dressed as a literal goldfish and that's your strategy?"

"It's not a costume, it's artistic expression."

"You're wearing orange scales and a fin headband."

I sighed, staring at the house down the street. Jordan's parties were legendary—the kind where the wrong outfit could make or destroy your entire high school career. And here I was, about to walk in looking like I'd lost a bet with a carnival.

The thing was, I actually HAD lost a bet. But Marcus didn't need to know that part.

Lightning cracked across the sky, purple and angry, illuminating the scattered groups of teens already gathering outside. Someone's dog—a golden retriever that looked way too happy about life—bounded past, nearly knocking my goldfish fin right off my head.

"You good?" Marcus asked, finally concerned.

"Just thinking maybe I should bolt. Like, actually running away right now. Start fresh in a new town. Maybe become someone who doesn't dress as aquatic life."

"Chelsea's inside."

"I know."

"You've been lowkey obsessed with her since sophomore year."

"I know, Marcus."

"Then put on your fish face and get it over with."

I took a breath, adjusted my fin, and opened the door. The retriever circled back, barking at my orange-clad self like I was some kind of alien visitor.

"Not today, buddy," I muttered. "I got bigger problems."

Like how I was about to walk into the most important social event of the year looking like a rejected mascot. Like how Chelsea probably didn't even know my name. Like how maybe—just maybe—being the weird kid in the goldfish outfit wasn't the disaster I thought it was.

Sometimes you gotta be ridiculous to get noticed. Sometimes you gotta be the fish in the room.

Lightning flashed again. I straightened my orange scales and headed toward the party.

Let them stare. Let them laugh. I'd be the most unforgettable goldfish they'd ever see.