The Goldfish Guardian

Marcus stared at the wall where his parents' tangled mass of black cable disappeared behind the TV. A clump of orange peels sat on the coffee table—evidence of his nervous snacking while waiting for Sofia's text.

"You're being such a bull about this," his little sister Maya scoffed from the couch. "Just ask him already."

"You don't get it," Marcus muttered, though she kind of did.

Liam had invited Marcus to play padel at the new courts downtown. The problem: Marcus had never held a racquet in his life. What if he whiffed? What if he served straight into the fence? The mental image was enough to make his stomach do cartwheels.

His phone buzzed. Sofia: "Liam's asking if you're coming. Also, he thinks you're cool, so chill."

Marcus glanced at his goldfish, Neptune, who'd been his silent confidant since seventh grade when Marcus had found him half-alive in a grimy bowl at the school carnival. Neptune swam to the front of his tank, mouth opening and closing like he was actually offering advice.

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Marcus told him. "Nobody's watching you serve a ball."

The orange peel in his hand suddenly seemed ridiculous. He wasn't some anxious kid anymore—this was sophomore year. Time to stop overthinking everything.

"I'm going," Marcus announced, standing up so fast Neptune did a surprised flip.

Maya looked up from her phone. "Finally."

"And I'm gonna suck at padel, and it's gonna be fine."

She actually smirked. "Progress, brother. Progress."

At the courts, Liam was already there, golden retriever energy radiating off him in waves. "MARCUS! Dude, ready to get destroyed?"

Marcus laughed despite himself. "Bring it."

His first serve went straight into the net. But Liam just grinned, not a trace of judgment on his face. "Better form than my first time, man. I put it through a fence."

By the time they left, Marcus was sweaty, exhausted, and had made exactly zero impressive shots. But he'd also laughed so hard his abs hurt, and Liam had already texted about next weekend.

Back home, Neptune swam lazily as Marcus recounted the day. The fish had been right—not that he'd ever admit it to Maya. Some bull about needing to be perfect, when all anyone actually wanted was someone real enough to laugh with.

Marcus tossed the last orange into the fridge. Tomorrow, he'd worry about actually getting good at padel. Tonight, he was just… enough.