The Goldfish Incident

I adjusted my snapback for the fiftieth time, checking my reflection in the sliding glass door. The hat was my armor—without it, I felt naked, exposed, like everyone could see exactly how terrified I was.

"You good, man?" Tyler asked, slapping my shoulder.

"Yeah. Totally." I lied. My stomach was doing gymnastics.

The backyard was already packed. Lauren was there, laughing in that way that made her whole face light up, wearing that orange bikini that made my brain short-circuit every time I saw it. This was it. The moment. I was finally going to talk to her, actually talk to her, not just watch from across the cafeteria like a total creep.

I made my way to the pool, heart hammering against my ribs. She was dangling her feet in the water, and I froze. What was I supposed to say? Hey, I like how your feet splash? Smooth, Leo. Real smooth.

"Nice hat," someone said sarcastically behind me. Jason and his crew. Of course. The human equivalents of grizzly bears, always hunting for weakness.

"Thanks," I mumbled, reaching for my hat—

And then my elbow knocked into the decorative bowl on the patio table.

Time moved like syrup. I watched in horror as the bowl tipped, sending water and fish everywhere. The goldfish flopped on the concrete, gasping, while everyone stared.

Lauren jumped up. "Oh my god!"

My face burned hotter than the sun. I'd ruined everything. I was the guy who murdered the party goldfish. College admissions would surely hear about this.

But then Lauren was scooping the fish into her cupped hands, sprinting to the pool, and gently dropping it in. It swam away, safe.

She looked at me, still holding my stupid hat, and grinned. "Well, that was dramatic."

"I, uh..." I started.

"You're Leo, right?" She picked up her towel. "Wanna help me find the other one?"