The Goldfish Embarrassment

Marcus pulled the crumpled beanie **hat** down lower over his ears, trying to disappear into his locker. First week of sophomore year and he'd already managed to become the guy who cried over a dead pet in biology class. The **goldfish** had been a class pet, technically, but that didn't make watching it float belly-up any less devastating.

"Yo, Marcus!" Maya called from down the hall. She was wearing that oversized hoodie she lived in, her curly hair defying gravity in that way that made everyone assume she had her life together. Spoiler: she didn't. None of them did.

He considered pretending he didn't hear her, but Maya had been his best **friend** since seventh grade, back when they'd both gotten braces on the same day and formed a metal-mouth solidarity pact. She caught up to him, breathless. "Did you see Jordan's Instagram story? He's throwing a party Friday and literally everyone's gonna be there."

Marcus groaned. "Parties are my personal hell. You know this."

"Come on! It'll be chill. Just some people hanging out, maybe some music. No pressure." She elbowed him. "Besides, I heard Liam might actually ask you about that hoodie you customized. He was lowkey obsessed with your embroidery work at the art showcase."

Before Marcus could deflect—something he'd gotten disturbingly good at—a golden retriever came bounding down the hallway, leash dragging behind it. The **dog** made a beeline for Maya, knocking her sideways into a row of lockers with an enthusiastic whump.

"Buster!" A freshman chased after the dog, face burning. "I am so sorry!"

But Maya was already laughing, scratching the dog's ears while Marcus stood there, paralyzed by social awkwardness. And then—he noticed something. The freshman's collar was crooked. His shoes were untied. He looked exactly how Marcus felt: like he was one wrong move away from total social suicide.

So Marcus did something uncharacteristically brave. He knelt down, let the dog sniff his hand, and said to the freshman, "Dude, your dog has better taste in people than most guys at this school."

The freshman's shoulders dropped two inches. "Yeah. He's kind of a chaos agent."

"Same," Maya said, still on the floor. "Want to sit with us at lunch? We usually claim the table by the window so we can people-watch and make up backstories for everyone."

Marcus adjusted his hat. For the first time all week, he didn't feel like hiding.