Poolside Apocalypse

Alex stood by the back fence, baseball cap pulled low, watching Jake's pool party like it was footage from another planet. Kids cannonballed into the water while somebody's phone blasted that remix everyone pretended to hate but secretly vibed with.

"Yo, Alex!" Jake yelled, dripping wet. "Get in here!"

Alex's stomach did that thing—like a goldfish flopping around on dry land, all panic and no place to go. Parties weren't his zone. Give him a raid in Helldawn or a ranked match any day over trying to navigate which friend groups were chill with overlapping conversations.

Then he saw it: a small bowl on the snack table, one lone goldfish swimming in tight, desperate circles. Someone had won it at the carnival earlier and left it behind, forgotten in the chaos of Snapstreaks and Spotify playlists.

"That's dark," said Chloe, appearing beside him with two sodas. She was the only other person from AV Club who'd actually shown. "Like, existential level dark."

"Fish is probably having a better time than me," Alex said.

"Zombie mode activated?" She grinned, handing him a drink. "You've been standing here like twenty minutes. It's giving main character energy, but like, the awkward first act before character development."

Alex snorted. "Is that my arc?"

"Bro, we're ALL walking around like zombies until we figure out who we actually are." Chloe nodded at the goldfish. "Him too. But hey—" She pulled a baseball from her pocket—Jake had been trying to teach her earlier. "At least we're not swimming in circles."

"What are we doing then?" Alex asked, genuinely curious now.

"Trying to hit something, even if we swing and miss." Chloe tossed him the ball. "Your turn."

For the first time all night, Alex didn't feel like the zombie at the party. He felt like someone who might actually take a swing, miss or not.

The goldfish kept swimming its circles. But somewhere in all that water, something had finally clicked.