Operation Goldfish

I looked like a zombie—officially. Three days of finals, two hours of sleep, and one unfortunate incident with blue hair dye that didn't wash out. My mom said I looked like I'd risen from the grave. Thanks, Mom.

But appearances were part of the mission. See, I wasn't just sleep-deprived. I was a spy.

Okay, not a REAL spy. But in the cafeteria ecosystem of North Valley High, information was currency. And right now, I was broke.

"You're doing it again," Maya whispered, sliding into the seat across from me. "The creepy staring thing."

"I'm observing," I corrected, lowering my voice. "There's a difference."

My target: Jason Chen, sophomore basketball star, and the guy who'd been leaving those origami notes in Sarah's locker. Sarah, my best friend since kindergarten, who was currently convinced her crush liked her back because he'd looked at her twice in chemistry class. I needed proof before she did something embarrassing. Like ask him to homecoming. Again.

"You're not James Bond," Maya said, stabbing her salad. "You're just nosy."

"I'm protecting Sarah's dignity. That's practically a public service."

The plan: casually position myself near Jason's table, accidentally overhear something, and report back. Simple. Flawless.

Then my phone buzzed. Sarah: EMERGENCY. COME OVER. NOW.

I abandoned my post. Sarah's house was two blocks away, and I sprinted the whole way, my zombie limbs protesting every step. Her door was unlocked.

"In here!" she yelled from her room. "It's catastrophic!"

I braced myself. Maybe Jason rejected her. Maybe she'd sent a terrible text. Maybe—

"He's dead!" Sarah wailed, pointing at her desk.

Bubbles. Her carnival-won goldfish. The one she'd had since October. The one she'd named "Bubbles" because she was, and I quote, "not creative enough to come up with something better."

He was definitely not moving.

"Oh, Sarah. I'm so—"

"And NOW," she continued dramatically, "I have to go to Jason's party tonight, and I'm going to cry about my FISH instead of flirting, and he's going to think I'm weird, and I'll die alone with forty cats!"

"First of all," I said, sitting beside her, "you hate cats. Second, fish don't live forever. That's like, basic biology."

"You don't understand!" She buried her face in her hands. "Everything is falling apart. My fish, my social life, my dignity—"

"Hey." I hugged her. "Want to know something?"

"What?"

"Jason talks about you. Like, ACTUALLY talks about you. Not in a weird way. In a 'hey, have you noticed Sarah's really into marine biology' way."

She looked up, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Would my spy network lie?"

Maya had told me yesterday. Jason thought Sarah's fish posters were cool. That's it—that was the extent of it. But in high school, that was basically a marriage proposal.

"So... I shouldn't cancel on the party?"

"No," I said firmly. "We give Bubbles a proper burial, put on something cute, and you go charm that boy with your marine biology trivia. Deal?"

She sniffed. "Deal."

We buried Bubbles under the rosebush with a仪式 involving too many tissues and a eulogy that made us both laugh until we cried. Sarah curled her hair, borrowed my favorite sweater, and walked into that party like she owned the place.

I stayed home. Sometimes, even the best spy knows when to hang up the cloak and just... sleep.

The next morning, Sarah texted me a picture: her and Jason, standing awkwardly close, both making fish faces at the camera.

Mission accomplished.