Operation Goldfish

My hair looked like a golden retriever had used it as a chew toy. Not ideal for the first day of sophomore year, especially when Taylor's locker was right next to mine.

"Rough night?" she asked, barely glancing up from her phone. Taylor, whose hair always fell in perfect beach waves that definitely weren't natural.

"My dog decided my pillow was his," I lied. Charlie, our Lab, had actually slept on my feet, but admitting my little brother's new goldfish — named Neptune, because he's dramatic like that — kept me up all night with its incessant bubbling sounded pathetic.

The real reason I'd been awake? Spying on my own family.

Okay, that sounds worse than it is. Two days ago, I'd found a receipt for a diamond necklace in Mom's purse. jewelry store. Expensive. Dad's birthday wasn't for months. So naturally, I'd spent forty-eight hours in full investigator mode: checking phone screens, listening at doors, the whole paranoid teen thriller experience.

Charlie followed me everywhere, his tail thumping against the walls like a metronome. Even the goldfish seemed judgmental, floating in its neon-lit tank with those bubble-eyed fish judging my life choices.

"You're being weird," Maya said at lunch, sliding onto the bench across from me. "Weirder than usual."

"No I'm not."

"You literally just scanned the cafeteria like you're looking for a target." Maya lowered her voice. "Is this about your parents? Because whatever's going on, they'll tell you when they're ready."

I poked at my cafeteria pizza. "What if it's bad? What if they're splitting up? What if-"

"Or," Maya said, "what if they're just normal people who don't tell you everything?"

She had a point. A terrible point.

That afternoon, I came home to find Mom in the kitchen, wrapping a small box.

"Hey sweetie," she said, too casual. "How was school?"

"Fine." I leaned against the doorframe. "Whose birthday is it?"

Mom's hands stilled. "What?"

"The necklace. I saw the receipt."

For a second, she just looked at me. Then she started laughing. "Oh my god, Maya said you'd been acting paranoid. It's for your grandmother's fiftieth anniversary party. We're renewing their vows."

"Oh."

"Did you think we were getting divorced?" Mom's eyes softened. "Riley, we're good. I promise."

Charlie trotted in and nudged my hand with his wet nose. I scratched behind his ears, feeling ridiculous.

"You're a terrible spy," Mom said. "But you're a good kid."

That night, I fed the goldfish and watched Neptune do his little fish dance. Maybe some secrets were worth waiting for. And maybe I needed to chill with the whole covert operations thing.

At least tomorrow I could fix my hair.