The Goldfish Manifesto

I was definitely not supposed to be running through the school hallway with a plastic bag containing Marv, my prize-winning goldfish, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Dude, you're literally gonna get us detention," whispered Leo, falling into step beside me as I sprinted past the trophy case.

"Bro, the student council election is in twenty minutes and I can't give my speech without Marv. He's my emotional support animal, my muse, my whole aesthetic."

Leo rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "It's a goldfish, Maya. A literal goldfish. And you're running for treasurer against Tyler, who has that whole pyramid scheme of varsity athletes backing him."

"First off, it's not a pyramid scheme, it's a social hierarchy," I corrected, though honestly, the difference felt minimal at Northwood High. "Second, Marv represents everything I stand for: resilience, swimming upstream, and thriving in small spaces. That's treasurer energy!"

We skidded to a stop outside the auditorium. I could already hear Tyler's voice booming through the doors, going on about fiscal responsibility and whatever buzzwords he'd stolen from his businessman dad.

"Maya," Leo said suddenly, serious for once. "You don't need the fish. You're already the most real person in this election. Everyone knows Tyler's just climbing the social pyramid because his parents are making him. But you? You actually care about this school."

I looked at Marv swimming in his bag, doing little goldfish laps, completely unbothered by the existential crisis happening around him. He was just vibing.

"You know what?" I handed the bag to Leo. "Hold Marv. He's too powerful for this speech anyway."

"What? No—"

"Too late!" I pushed through the auditorium doors, running toward the stage like I was running for my life, which, in a way, I was. I could do this. Goldfish or not, pyramid schemes or not, I was about to give the most unhinged, authentic student council speech Northwood High had ever seen.

And somewhere in that plastic bag, Marv was probably proud of me. Or maybe just hungry. Either way, vibes were immaculate.