The Goldfish Protocol

Marcus's mom drove him to Oak Creek High with that look—the one that said 'this'll be good for you' while she literally moved him across the country three weeks into junior year. His goldfish, Nacho, stared blankly from his plastic travel container like, 'Bro, we're not gonna survive this.'

First day lunch, Marcus found himself at the bottom of the social pyramid—which wasn't even a pyramid, more like a loose collection of scattered islands where friend groups floated in their own orbits. He spotted the baseball team table, then the theater kids, then everyone else. His phone buzzed: his old best friend sending a TikTok of Marcus looking confused.

'dude u look like a lost npc'

Marcus rolled his eyes, shoving his phone deeper into his pocket. The baseball team was looking for players, but he hadn't picked up a glove since Little League. Maybe he could reinvent himself as Baseball Guy? That seemed easier than explaining he was actually Art Guy who wrote poetry and liked sci-fi novels.

Then he saw Her—Jane, sitting alone with a notebook, headphones on, sketching something. Marcus's internal spy network (aka: his Instagram investigation from last night) had revealed she was into graphic novels and collected vinyl records. He'd been lowkey stalking her posts like a creepy detective, trying to figure out if they'd have anything to talk about.

His chance came when Jane dropped her pencil. It rolled straight toward Marcus, stopping at his worn Vans.

'Nice catch,' she said, and wow, her actual voice sounded better than the one time he'd heard her in a Story.

'Marcus,' he said, suddenly hyper-aware that Nacho was still in his backpack, probably freaking out in the dark. 'I have a goldfish in my bag. This is the weirdest thing I've ever said to another human being.'

Jane stared at him. Then she laughed—not the fake laugh, but the real one, where your nose crinkles and you can't stop. 'Wait, seriously?' She slid closer. 'My mom made me bring my grandma's succulent collection on the first day because she thought it'd make me look responsible.'

'So we're both out here carrying plants like emotional support animals.'

'Emotional support succulents,' Jane corrected, pulling out her sketchbook to show him. She drew comics about how high school felt like a bizarre experiment where everyone was pretending to have it figured out.

Marcus pointed to a panel of someone falling into a locker. 'That literally happened to me on Tuesday.'

They spent the rest of lunch ignoring the pyramid of social expectations above them. The baseball team could wait. Marcus had found his people—well, person. But Nacho was still judging him from his backpack.

'Wanna help me find Nacho a proper bowl?' Jane asked. 'I know exactly where to get one without my mom finding out I spent my lunch money on fish supplies instead of food.'

Marcus grinned. Finally, someone who understood the mission priorities.