Spinning Rackets and Goldfish Memories

The vitamin gummy stuck to my teeth like my reputation at Miller Prep. "Bro, just take it," Maya said, tossing the bottle at me. We were sitting on her palm-tree-patterned beach towel, watching Jake and his squad dominate the padel court.

I wasn't watching Jake, though. I was watching Fin—the goldfish I'd won at the spring carnival, swimming in his bowl on Maya's porch railing. He'd survived two weeks, which was basically a miracle considering my track record with living things.

"You're staring again," Maya said. "Just go talk to him."

"I'm not staring at Jake. I'm staring at... at the game strategy."

"Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Jake ace-d another serve. His forearms flexed. Why did teenage boys have to make everything look so effortless?

My phone buzzed. Group chat blowing up about the party at Tyler's house on Friday. Everyone was going. Even the quiet kids from AP Calc were making noise about showing up. I hadn't RSVP-ed because:

1) My dad would literally die if I asked

2) Jake would be there with his perfect girlfriend Chloe

3) I'd rather stay home and watch Fin swim in circles

"You're overthinking it," Maya said, reading my mind. "Just say you'll go. What's the worst that happens?"

"I stand in the corner by myself while everyone else has the time of their lives?"

"Or you could actually talk to Jake instead of just... existing near him."

I couldn't explain it to her—the way my stomach did backflips every time he looked in my direction, how his laugh sounded like something from a movie I'd never get to star in. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

Jake walked over, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Hey, you want in? We're down a player."

Maya kicked my shin. Hard.

"Uh, yeah. Sure." I stood up, knees shaking like I was about to give a presentation instead of play a sport I'd literally never tried.

He tossed me a racket. It felt heavier than it looked. "Don't worry about sucking. We all did at first."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

He grinned. "No problem. Just don't hit me with that thing and we're good."

I stepped onto the court, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Fin watched from his bowl. Maya watched from her towel. Jake watched me like he was actually waiting for me to do something cool.

The first serve came at me faster than expected. I swung and missed. Completely.

"Nice swing," Jake said. "Very enthusiastic."

But he was smiling. And for the first time all year, I wasn't running from anything—I was running toward something. Or someone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.