The Goldfish at the End of the World

Marcus stood at the edge of the pool, clutching the plastic bag like it contained his soul—which, technically, it did. Inside swam Goldie, a carnival prize he'd spent forty bucks trying to win for Jessica, who was currently doing cannonballs with the swim team. He felt like a zombie, having stayed up until 4 AM playing Valorant and spiraling about how to talk to her.

"Yo, Marcus!" yelled Ty from the backyard, where the cool kids were playing baseball with actual equipment instead of the whiffle ball crap Marcus's mom bought. "You gonna stand there all day or what?"

Marcus's feet were moving before his brain caught up. He was running toward the party, heart hammering like he'd chugged three energy shots. This was it. The moment. He'd practiced what he'd say in the mirror approximately 47 times.

"Hey," he managed, voice cracking spectacularly. "I won this. For you."

Jessica surface from the water, hair plastered to her face like a beautiful mermaid mess. She stared at the bag. At Goldie, doing lazy laps.

"Wait, really?" She grinned, and Marcus realized he'd never actually seen her smile like that. Not the fake polite one she gave teachers, but something real and goofy and perfect. "That's actually kind of adorable."

They ended up sitting on the pool edge, feet dangling in the water, talking about nothing and everything while Goldie got acquainted with her new kingdom (a giant glass bowl Jessica's dad found somewhere). Marcus learned Jessica hated competitive swimming but her mom insisted. She learned Marcus was secretly obsessed with astronomy and had named all the stars in his ceiling.

Later, when Ty called him over to play baseball, Marcus actually said yeah. He played terrible, struck out swinging, but Jessica cheered anyway from the pool.

Maybe this summer wouldn't be a zombie march through awkward conversations and missed chances. Maybe it would be the start of something real.

Goldie, now officially the coolest fish in the neighborhood, would definitely agree.