The Goldfish Protocol

My palms were sweating. Like, actually dripping, which was disgusting because I was wearing Ethan's lucky beanie — the one he swore helped him talk to girls — and I didn't want to get it gross. But here I was, at Jordan's house party, clutching this ridiculous plastic bowl containing a carnival goldfish that some random guy had literally pressed into my hands five minutes ago before disappearing into the crowd.

"Nice hat," someone said behind me.

I turned around, and of course it was Maya. The Maya. Junior class vice president, cross-country captain, the kind of person who didn't get nervous at parties. She was looking at the neon orange beanie like it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.

"It's not mine," I blurted. "I mean, obviously. I don't wear hats. My friend Ethan, he made me—"

"Chill." She grinned, and I noticed she was holding a cat. An actual cat, just calmly draped over her arm like a furry stole. "This is Luna. She's supposed to be locked in Jordan's room, but she kept scratching at the door, so I'm being an accompice to her jailbreak."

The cat leaned forward and sniffed my goldfish bowl with intense interest.

"No, Luna, bad cat." Maya pulled her back. "Is that a goldfish? From the carnival downtown?"

"Yeah, some guy just gave it to me? I think he was leaving and didn't want to take it? I don't even know his name?" I realized I was inflecting everything like a question. Smooth. "I've literally been standing here wondering what to do with it for twenty minutes."

Maya laughed, and it was this genuine, non-mockingly sound that made something in my chest loosen. "We should name him. Quick, before he dies from stress."

"Gilbert?"

"Gilbert the goldfish. That's perfect." She shifted the cat to her other arm. "Hey, you want to help me liberate Gilbert to Jordan's backyard pond? It's definitely bigger than this bowl."

So that's how I ended up behind the house at midnight, kneeling beside a pond with Maya Chavez, releasing a carnival goldfish into his new life while Luna the cat watched from the sidelines with what I swear was disappointment. And for the first time all night, my palms were dry. Ethan's beanie was still ridiculous, but Maya reached over and adjusted it, said it kind of suited me, and I didn't even hate myself for blushing.

Sometimes the best moments happen when you're just standing there holding a fish bowl, waiting for something real to start.