The Goldfish Conspiracy

My goldfish, Bubbles, was the only one who knew my secret.

Every day after school, I'd perch on my windowsill, hidden behind the cable TV wire that ran from my house to the telephone pole. From there, I had the perfect view of the park across the street—where Caleb practiced his baseball swing.

Okay, that sounds creepy. Let me clarify: I wasn't spying. I was conducting casual visual research. There's a difference.

"You're being weird," my sister Jordan had said that morning, watching me feed Bubbles his breakfast flakes. "Just talk to him already."

"I can't just talk to him," I'd protested. "He's BASEBALL. I'm... spinach."

"Spinach?"

"You know. Good for you, but nobody actually WANTS spinach."

Jordan had rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out.

Now it was Friday, and Caleb's team had a game. I could see him from my window, leaning against the backstop, laughing with his friends. His cleats dug into the dirt. One of those friends was Taylor Chen, who sat next to me in English and had somehow failed to notice I existed for three entire years.

This was fine. Everything was fine. I was totally chill.

Bubbles swam to the front of his bowl and stared at me with his permanently surprised expression.

"Don't look at me like that," I whispered. "I'm going over there. I AM."

I didn't move.

Then something happened—Caleb looked up. Right at my window. I froze. Did he see me behind the cable wire? Was I being that creepy neighbor? My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

But then he was looking past me, waving. Someone was walking up the driveway behind me.

"Maya!" Jordan yelled from downstairs. "Mom wants you—why are you hiding?"

I turned. Jordan stood in my doorway, along with Taylor Chen and her little brother, who apparently was on Caleb's baseball team. They were carrying a tray of brownies.

"We're doing a team bake sale," Taylor said, like this was the most normal thing in the world. "Your sister said you might want to help."

I looked at Taylor. Then out the window, where Caleb was still watching the driveway, still waiting.

"I'd love to," I heard myself say.

Later, standing beside Taylor at the bake sale table while Caleb bought three brownies and actually looked me in the eye when he said thanks, I caught Jordan's knowing smile across the table.

That night, I fed Bubbles an extra pinch of flakes.

"Good intel," I told him. "We're making progress."