The Goldfish in My Pocket

The problem with working at GNC was that nobody actually wanted to be there. Especially not me, especially not on a Friday night when everyone else was at Tyler's party. But here I was, folding vitamin supplements into neat little rows while watching my social life circle the drain.

"You gonna stare at that vitamin D3 all night or actually sell it?"

I jumped. Nick. The guy who'd somehow made a varsity jacket look like a personality trait. He gestured at the shelf behind me, where a stuffed bear from the elementary school down the street had somehow ended up perched next to the protein powder. Someone must've pranked us.

"It's watching me judge everyone's purchases," I said, surprising myself with something approaching wit.

Nick laughed, and I felt my stomach do that awful fluttery thing that should've died in middle school. "Harsh. But fair. What's in your pocket?"

I froze. The plastic bag with my emergency carnival-prize goldfish was practically burning a hole in my jeans. "Nothing."

"Liar."

He reached, and I dodged, knocking over an entire display of elderberry gummies. They scattered everywhere like something out of a movie where the main character definitely doesn't get the guy. But Nick just dropped to his knees, started gathering them up, his hand brushing mine.

"Okay, honestly," he said, "you've been carrying around something fish-shaped all week. I saw it at lunch. Is it dead? Is that why you're hiding it?"

"His name is Gerald," I blurted. "And he's not dead, he's just... really small. And my mom says if she finds one more pet, she's losing it."

Nick stared at me. Then: "You're hiding a goldfish because your mom has a pet limit?"

"It's a long story."

"I have time." He sat back on his heels, gummies forgotten. "My bear of a football coach confiscated my phone after practice. I'm grounded until I memorize the playbook, which is obviously never happening. So I'm here. Buying vitamins I don't need. And interrogating you about your fish."

"Gerald," I corrected, then pulled the bag from my pocket. The fish swam in a pathetic circle, looking judgmental.

Nick actually smiled. "He's got a vibe. You know, my grandma swears by these omega-3 supplements? Says they're brain food. Pretty sure she'd approve."

"Your grandma sounds cool."

"She'd like you." He paused. "I could hide him at my place. My parents are basically never home."

The fluorescent lights buzzed. Somewhere, a customer was asking about protein powder. And I was standing there with a stolen goldfish, a guy who maybe wasn't just a varsity jacket, and the sudden realization that some disasters are actually beginnings in disguise.

"Deal," I said. "But you have to help me steal this bear first."

Nick laughed, and I knew this wasn't the party I'd planned for. But maybe it was better.