The Goldfish Prank

The fluorescent snapback sat three rows deep on Marcus's forehead, the brim practically perpendicular to his nose. That was the thing about popular kids—they broke fashion rules so hard they became new rules.

"Nice hat," I said, though it came out more like a question.

Marcus barely glanced up from his phone. "Thanks, Cameron."

I'd been crushing on Maya since seventh grade, and Marcus had been her shadow since homecoming. Now they were standing together at Tyler's party, and I was hovering near the punch bowl like a lost waiter.

My friends had dared me. Do something epic, they'd said. Make her remember you.

So when Tyler's dad announced the arrival of his taxidermy prize—the full-grown grizzly bear he'd bagged in Montana last summer—I saw my chance. The thing was positioned dramatically in the den, glass eyes catching the party lights, jaws forever frozen in a predatory roar.

Perfect.

Maya was taking selfies with friends when I nudged her toward the den. "You gotta see this thing. It's genuinely terrifying."

She followed, curious. Marcus trailed behind, snapback still aggressively positioned.

"Whoa," Maya breathed, stepping closer to the bear. "It's actually kinda beautiful?"

"Right?" I said. "Hey, wanna know something crazy?"

"What?"

"My cousin's a wildlife biologist. She says if you stare directly into a bear's eyes and hold your breath, you can see your soulmate's face in its reflection. It's this whole Indigenous thing, passed down for generations."

The pause stretched. Somewhere in the house, bass thumped against the walls.

"Seriously?" Maya leaned in, squinting at the glass eyes. "That's actually so cool."

Marcus snorted. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Maya shushed him. "Let him finish."

So there we were—me, Maya, and the guy who'd been dating her for three months, all staring into the glass eyes of a dead grizzly bear, holding our breath like absolute goldfish.

My lungs burned. Maya's eyelashes fluttered. Marcus looked like he was calculating how quickly he could punch me.

Then Maya gasped.

"Oh my god."

"What?" I said. "Did you see something?"

She turned to me, eyes wide. "That's SO not what Indigenous people believe. My stepdad's Native, Cameron. He would literally pass away if he heard you say that."

My face burned hotter than the party lights. "Wait, really? I—"

Maya burst out laughing. Not mean-laughing. Real, doubled-over, crying laughing. Marcus cracked up too, and suddenly we were all three of us losing it, the stupidest moment of my life somehow transformed into something else entirely.

"You should've seen your face," Maya wheezed, wiping actual tears. "You looked so confident too!"

Later that night, I found Maya on the back porch. She passed me a soda.

"That was the dumbest prank ever," she said. "But also... thanks? For making me laugh. Marcus never makes me laugh like that."

She adjusted my snapback, pulling the brim down properly. "Wear it like this, okay? You're trying too hard."

The goldfish weren't the only ones who'd learned something about survival that night. Sometimes you hold your breath hoping for magic, and sometimes you just end up with a girl telling you your hat looks stupid while somehow making it feel like the best compliment you've ever received.