The Bull Who Couldn't Swim

Marcus Chen was what everyone at Northwood High called a social zombie — that walking-dead state of existing but not really living, especially when you're secretly in love with your best friend since kindergarten. Emma moved through the hallways like she owned them, all sunshine and laughter, while Marcus trailed behind carrying her books and his unspoken feelings.

The annual Spring Fling was two weeks away, and Emma had somehow gotten roped into coordinating the whole thing. Which meant Marcus was roped in too, by default. They were brainstorming theme ideas in her bedroom, surrounded by textbooks and empty cookie wrappers, when her mom burst in with that chaotic energy she always brought.

"EMMA! Oh my god, you won't believe this!" Mrs. Rivera was practically vibrating. "The pet store called — they're closing down and need someone to take the display tank. I told them we'd take it! It's coming tomorrow!"

Emma's eyes went wide. "Mom, I can't take care of a whole aquarium. I can barely keep myself alive during finals week."

"It's just some goldfish! Super low maintenance. I already said yes."

Marcus, in an attempt to be helpful (and maybe, possibly, impress Emma), said, "I used to have fish. I can help set it up."

Fast-forward to three days later: Marcus is at Emma's house, twenty-seven goldfish are swimming in aggressive circles, and he's staring at the tank thinking about how these fish literally have a three-second memory span and somehow he's still jealous because that would be perfect for forgetting how he made a complete fool of himself yesterday.

The problem started when Tyler Harrison — Northwood's residential bully, the kind of guy who wore his letter jacket like armor and made everyone feel approximately three inches tall — decided Marcus helping Emma with her fish was absolutely hilarious.

"Aww, Chen's playing house with Rivera," Tyler had announced in the cafeteria, loud enough for everyone to hear. "How cute. You think that's gonna make her like you back? Bro, she literally called you 'like a brother' last week. I was right there. It was tragic."

The cafeteria had gone dead silent. Marcus had frozen. Emma had turned bright red and mumbled something about needing to talk to someone across the room.

And now here Marcus was, feeding goldfish flakes to twenty-seven fish while rethinking every life choice that led to this moment.

"You okay?" Emma's voice behind him made him jump, scattering fish food everywhere.

"Fine. Just thinking about how Tyler's a total—"

"Don't say it. My mom's in the next room." Emma leaned against the doorframe, studying him. "You know he only does that to people he's intimidated by, right?"

Marcus snorted. "Tyler's not intimidated by me. He's practically a giant."

"Not like that." Emma moved closer, her voice dropping. "He's threatened because you're actually genuinely good at things. He saw your art portfolio entry for the Spring Flyer contest. He knows you're gonna win."

Marcus blinked. "Wait, he saw it? How?"

"I may have shown him. And the student council. And probably some random freshmen." Emma grinned, suddenly shy. "I really think you should submit something. Your drawings are sick."

The air between them shifted, became something charged and electric. Marcus looked at Emma — really looked at her — and realized that maybe he hadn't been a zombie at all. Maybe he'd just been asleep, waiting for the right moment to wake up.

"I'll do it," he said. "But you have to help me name these fish."

Emma's smile could have powered a whole city. "Deal. First one's definitely gonna be Bull."

"Bull? Seriously?"

"For your submission. Bull in a China Shop. It's gonna be hilarious and Tyler's gonna hate it."

Marcus grinned, feeling something bright and terrified bloom in his chest. Something worth staying awake for.