The Goldfish Oracle

Every morning started the same way: my mom shoving a handful of supplements at me while Buster—that's our dog, a chaotic golden retriever mix—knocked over everything in his path.

"Take your **vitamin**, Marcus, you look exhausted," she'd say, pressing those giant orange pills into my hand. I'd dry-swallow them because honestly, water was just another opportunity for spillage.

At school, I was basically invisible. Which was fine. Until Jason Chen's party, which everyone was talking about. The social hierarchy at Northwood High made zero sense to me—it was like some ancient **sphinx** riddle I couldn't solve. Be confident but not cocky. Care but don't try too hard. How did everyone else instinctively know these rules?

The worst part? In biology, I got paired with Mia for the semester project. Mia, who wore that perfect shade of **orange** lipstick and somehow made sitting through lectures look like an art form. Mia, who I'd been lowkey crushing on since seventh grade.

"We're studying **goldfish** memory," she announced, spinning her chair toward me. "Fascinating stuff. They literally forget everything after three seconds. Sometimes I wish I could do that."

My brain short-circuited. Was she hinting at something? "Uh, yeah. Forget stuff. Definitely relatable."

I was about to say something actually intelligent when my phone buzzed. Buster had eaten my homework. Literally. The poster I'd spent three hours on was now confetti all over my bedroom floor.

Mia laughed when I told her. Not mean laughter—actual, genuine laughter. "That's honestly the most on-brand thing that's ever happened to anyone."

And that was it. The sphinx riddle wasn't about being cool or perfect. It was about being real. About how Buster eating my poster was objectively hilarious and not something I needed to fix or hide.

"Wanna come over after school?" I asked, surprising myself. "We can work on the goldfish project. Buster will probably try to eat that too, but fair warning."

She grinned. "I'm in."

Sometimes the most embarrassing moments are just regular people being regular people. And maybe that's the whole point.