Swimming in Circles

The **goldfish** stared at me through plastic walls, its orange tail flicking like it was judging my entire existence. I'd won it twenty minutes ago at the carnival booth, trying to impress Maya with my totally mad tossing skills. Three rings on a bottle boom - still riding that high.

"You're gonna name it Nemo?" Maya asked, walking beside me, her sneakered feet kicking at loose gravel.

"No way. That's basic." I adjusted my **baseball** cap backward - the brim kept hitting my neck when I leaned forward to check on the fish. "I'm thinking something more... profound. Like Destiny. Or Sushi."

Maya laughed, and I felt it in my chest like tiny fireworks. This was it. The moment. We'd been hanging out for weeks, ever since she joined the team and I'd been assigned to help her with batting practice. She was new to the sport but had this natural power when she swung - like she was channeling every frustration into hitting something into orbit.

Her house appeared through the trees, a two-story with a porch that needed painting and a **cat** stretched across the railing like it owned the place. The cat lifted its head, yellow eyes narrowing as we approached.

"That's Barnaby," Maya said. "He hates everyone. You should feel honored if he ignores you."

"Same energy as my dad," I muttered, then immediately regretted it. Too real. Too vulnerable.

Maya stopped walking and turned to me, fingers playing with the strap of her bag. "Hey, quick question."

My heart did that thing where it forgot how to heart. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna ask me to homecoming or what?" She tilted her head, a half-smile playing on her face. "Because Jordan already asked, and I need to know if I should say yes or... wait for someone else."

The plastic bag with the goldfish suddenly felt incredibly heavy. This was it. The door was open. All I had to do was walk through it.

Instead, my brain went: *What if she says no? What if it gets weird? What if the whole team finds out and never lets me live it down?*

So I said, "I mean, Jordan's cool. He's starting pitcher, right?"

Maya's smile didn't exactly disappear, but it definitely got smaller. "Yeah. He's cool."

We stood there for three seconds that felt like three years. The cat on the porch decided we were boring and went back to sleep.

"Well," I said, gesturing vaguely with my free hand. "See you at practice tomorrow."

"Yeah." She adjusted her own **hat** - this beanie thing with a pompom that made her look stupidly cute. "See you, Marcus."

I walked home with my goldfish, practicing what I should've said. Each step felt like I was swimming in circles, going nowhere but making plenty of waves.

The goldfish survived exactly three days. I buried it in the backyard beside the old oak tree, said a few words about how it died of disappointment in its owner.

Next day at practice, Jordan had his arm around Maya. They looked good together. They looked like they belonged.

I kept my **baseball** cap pulled low, focused on hitting balls into the fence until my hands blistered. Sometimes growth feels less like leveling up and more like just getting better at pretending you're not hurting.

But I'm working on it. Slowly. Like a goldfish learning its tank has limits, I'm learning mine - and how to push past them.