The Goldfish Monologues

Marcus stared at the goldfish bowl on his nightstand. Finneagan swam in endless circles, same as yesterday, same as probably forever.

"You're living the dream, bro," Marcus told the fish. "No tryouts today. No expectations. Just... swimming."

His phone buzzed. Track group chat blowing up about the 5K tryouts after school. Everyone hype-ing, everyone fast-typing except Marcus. He'd been the district's rising star last season—until the panic attack at regionals that left him gasping on the sideline while his teammates finished without him.

Since then: running was complicated. But he'd promised Coach he'd show up.

Downstairs, his sister's cat Mittens wound around his legs like she knew something was up. She always did. When he'd cried in his room that night after regionals, she'd jumped onto his bed and slept pressed against his side like she could absorb the embarrassment radiating off him.

"You're not gonna make me go, are you?" he asked the cat. She blinked slowly.

"Thought so."

The walk to school felt longer than usual. Every time he saw someone from track team, his chest tightened. What if he froze again? What if everyone stared? What if the whispers started?

"Yo Marcus!"

He turned to see Jenna jogging up, her bright yellow sneakers practically glowing. She'd transferred in last month and immediately joined the team, all effortless energy and zero chill about anything.

"You nervous too?" she asked. "My stomach is literally doing cartwheels."

Marcus blinked. "You're nervous? You literally won districts at your old school."

"Yeah but that's different stakes. This is... new people, new coach, new everything." She fidgeted with her phone case. "What if I'm not as good as everyone thinks?"

Something shifted in Marcus's chest. Not panic—something lighter.

"Same," he said. "That's exactly my fear."

"Well dang," Jenna grinned. "Guess we'll be nervous together then. Want to warm up?"

They ran together, matching pace naturally. No competition. Just two people moving forward. Marcus realized something: he'd spent months thinking everyone had it together except him. Turns out even the people who looked like they had it figured out were just faking confidence too.

Finneagan swam his circles at home, but Marcus? Marcus was done going in circles. He had a friend now. A teammate. And suddenly the track didn't seem so scary anymore.

Sometimes you just need someone else to admit they're scared too.