The Fish Tank MVP

Tyler's mom insisted the Flintstones **vitamin** gummies would help him grow. What they actually did was turn his tongue orange, which was exactly what Jessica noticed when he finally gathered the courage to ask her to the spring dance.

"Your tongue looks like you ate a traffic cone," she said, not unkindly, in AP Chem.

"It's the vitamins," Tyler mumbled, face burning. Jessica played center field on the varsity softball team and had that effortless confidence Tyler had been chasing since middle school.

That afternoon, Tyler's little brother Mikey called him downstairs, panicked. Their **goldfish**, Captain Fin, was floating sideways at the top of the bowl. Tyler stared at it, his own stomach doing a weird nervous flip—probably from both the impending dance rejection and his brother's tragic face.

"He's just sleeping," Tyler lied, grabbing the fish food. "They do that."

"You don't know anything about fish," Mikey accused. "You don't know anything about anything."

The words hit harder than Mikey meant them to. Because it was kind of true. Tyler had quit **baseball** freshman year after spending an entire season on the bench, his bat collecting dust while everyone else got their moment at the plate. He'd been quitting things ever since—too scared to fail, too scared to try.

Later that night, Tyler flopped onto the couch. His dad was wrestling with the **cable** box, which had frozen on some infomercial about kitchen gadgets. The screen glitched, pixelated colors swirling like someone had spilled a rainbow on the display.

"Third time this week," his dad muttered. "Piece of junk."

Tyler watched his dad keep trying, pressing the same buttons that weren't working, refusing to call it quits. And suddenly Tyler was back at his feet, grabbing his phone.

He typed: You still going to the dance?

Jessica responded immediately: Only if you promise not to wear orange.

Tyler grinned. His tongue was still orange, but that was fine. Some things were worth a little embarrassment.

Captain Fin was swimming normally by morning. Tyler didn't know if fish actually slept sideways or if he'd miraculously healed, but some mysteries weren't meant to be solved. Some things you just had to believe in.

Friday, Tyler showed up at Jessica's locker with two tickets and zero Cool Ranch Doritos stuck in his teeth. She laughed at his terrible joke about fish and chem class, and when she took his hand, Tyler realized he'd finally figured it out: you don't have to be the MVP to deserve your place on the team. You just have to show up.