The Goldfish Incident

I was already fifteen minutes late to Jordan's party when I started running—like, actually sprinting down Maple Street in my beat-up Converses. My mom had insisted I wear this ridiculous wide-brimmed hat because "it'll complete your outfit," and now the wind was threatening to launch it into orbit.

"You good?" A voice called out.

I skidded to a stop. It was Maya, standing on her porch with a papaya in one hand like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hat drama," I panted. "Also, I'm supposed to bring snacks."

Maya grinned. "Hop in. My cousin's working the bodega, she'll hook us up."

Ten minutes later, we walked into Jordan's basement carrying enough chips to feed a small army. That's when I saw HIM—Luke, my oldest friend who'd ghosted me over the summer, standing by the refreshment table looking all fresh in his varsity jacket.

"Hey!" Luke waved, then his eyes went huge. "Is that... a goldfish?"

"What?" I followed his gaze.

On the table, in a glass bowl meant for punch, a single goldfish swam in lonely circles. Someone had put it there as a joke. The whole room went silent.

"That's messed up," I heard someone whisper.

Luke's face turned bright red. "My brother dared me to bring it. I was supposed to put it in the—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," Maya cut in, stepping forward like she was about to throw hands. "That's a living creature, not a prop for your TikTok."

I looked at Luke, really looked at him. The guy who used to walk me home every day in middle school, who knew I was scared of dogs, who helped me study for algebra. Was this who he was now?

"Give me the bowl," I said quietly.

"What?" Luke looked confused.

"The fish. Give it to me."

We ended up running to Maya's house at midnight—me, Maya, somehow Luke too—carrying a goldfish in a makeshift Tupperware container. We set it up in Maya's old aquarium, naming it Papaya because of its ridiculous orange color.

"Sorry," Luke mumbled, staring at the fish like it held all the answers.

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

Some friends drift apart. Sometimes you grow into different people. But sometimes, in the weirdest, most random moments—running through suburban streets with a displaced goldfish—you figure out who's actually worth keeping around.

Maya high-fived me. "Worst party ever, or best?"

I smiled. "Definitely best."