The Goldfish Incident

The first day of summer break, I was officially dead inside. My parents had dropped the bomb: we weren't going to the lake house this year. Instead, I got stuck watching Mrs. Henderson's **goldfish** while she visited her grandkids.

"Bubbles needs to be fed twice a day," she'd instructed, like I couldn't figure out fish food on my own. "And don't let the **cable** guy in unless I specifically say so."

Great. My summer plans now revolved around a fish whose entire personality was opening and closing its mouth.

The next day, my best friend Maya showed up with an **orange** slushie from 7-Eleven and zero chill about my pathetic situation.

"Dude," she said, flopping onto my bed. "You're not seriously spending your whole summer babysitting a fish. We're supposed to be at Tyler's party tomorrow. His parents finally got that pool finished."

I rolled over. "Can't. Mrs. Henderson basically said if anything happens to Bubbles, she'll haunt me from beyond the grave."

Maya sat up, eyes wide. "Okay, first of all, that's dramatic. Second, we bring Bubbles with us."

I stared at her. "You're kidding."

"No one's gonna know. We put the bowl in a bag, we stay for an hour, we leave. What's the worst that could happen?"

**Everything**. Everything could happen.

But somehow, thirty minutes later, we were walking to Tyler's house with a fish in a plastic bag tucked inside my backpack. I could feel my anxiety spiking with every step. Social situations were already not my thing—add fish smuggling to the mix and I was basically vibrating at a frequency only dogs could hear.

The backyard was already full of people from school. Tyler's new pool looked amazing, all turquoise and inviting. I spotted him across the yard, laughing with his friends, his hair still wet from **swimming**. My stomach did that thing it always did when he was around—like I'd swallowed something alive.

"Hey! You made it!" Tyler waved when he saw us. "In yet?"

"Soon," I managed, clutching my backpack like it contained state secrets instead of a fish.

Maya dragged me toward the food table, where some genius had set out a veggie platter with ranch. I was reaching for a carrot when someone bumped my arm from behind. I turned to see Jessica—of course Jessica, Tyler's ex and my personal nemesis since sixth grade—smirking at me.

"Oh my god," she said, loud enough for half the party to hear. "Is that **spinach** in your teeth?"

The entire table went silent.

I frantically tried to check my reflection in my phone camera, but my hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped it. That's when it happened—my backpack slipped off my shoulder, hit the ground with a sickening splash, and Bubbles's bowl shattered everywhere.

The fish flopped on the concrete, gasping.

I swear time actually stopped. Tyler was running toward us. Maya was frozen. And Jessica was just standing there, mouth open, looking guilty as hell.

"My fish!" I dropped to my knees, frantically trying to scoop Bubbles into my hands before... before what? Before I became known as the fish murderer freshman year?

But then Tyler was there, carefully scooping up the fish with his bare hands and dropping it into a nearby cup someone had abandoned.

"Quick," he said, grabbing my hand. "The pool."

We ran to the pool edge and he gently transferred Bubbles into the water, where the fish immediately started swimming again like nothing had happened.

"He likes it better here anyway," Tyler said, grinning at me. His nose was slightly freckled from the sun. "Maybe we all do."

Later, as we sat on the pool edge with our feet in the water, watching Bubbles happily explore his new territory, Tyler bumped my shoulder with his.

"So," he said. "You gonna tell me why you brought a fish to a pool party?"

"Long story," I said, feeling my face heat up.

"I've got time."

And suddenly, my summer wasn't looking so dead after all.