The Goldfish Rebellion

The fluorescent **orange** Cheetos dust stained Marcus's fingers like a crime scene. Again. He wiped his hands on his already-stained jeans and stared at the carnival **goldfish** swimming circles in its plastic bag. It had been living on his desk for three days since he won it for Jordan—definitely a metaphor for their situationship.

"You look like a **zombie**," his sister Ria said, dropping onto his bed. "Homecoming's in two days and you're stress-cleaning a fishbowl?"

"It's not stress-cleaning. It's contemplative cleaning." Marcus's phone buzzed. A text from Jordan: *can we talk?*

Ria snorted. "He's been acting weird since he asked you to homecoming and then immediately started ghosting. Classic avoidant behavior."

The **bull** of anxiety that had been charging through Marcus's chest since freshman year flared up. He'd been working so hard on confidence, on not letting the social hierarchy crush him like—

"I brought you something." Ria pulled a container from her backpack. "**Spinach** artichoke dip. Mom made too much."

"Is this your way of telling me I need vegetables before homecoming?"

"It's my way of telling you you're overthinking everything. Jordan's not like the other guys. He won you a fish, Marcus. That's basically a marriage proposal in teenage boy language."

His phone buzzed again. *meet me at the boardwalk after school?*

The goldfish swam another lap. Marcus thought about how much he hated that word—*talk*. It always meant something heavy, something that required emotional energy he barely had after AP classes, cross country, and the constant pressure to be perfect.

"Maybe he's going to dump me," Marcus said, the words tasting like betrayal.

"Or maybe he's going to ask you to meet his parents," Ria countered. "Or confess he's been secretly taking dance lessons. Or literally anything besides dumping you, because why would he win a fish for someone he's planning to dump?"

Marcus actually laughed. "You're the worst best friend ever."

"I know. But I'm also right." Ria checked her phone. "Go meet him. If it goes badly, we'll come back, eat this spinach dip, and roast him on TikTok until he transfers schools."

The boardwalk was empty when Marcus got there—just waves crashing and distant laughter from the beach. Jordan sat on a bench by the carousel, wearing that flannel Marcus liked.

"You came," Jordan said, standing up.

"Of course I came. What's going on? Your texts were weird."

Jordan looked down at his hands. "My parents are making me go to my aunt's wedding that weekend. Homecoming weekend."

Marcus's stomach dropped. "Oh."

"But—" Jordan took Marcus's hand. "I asked my cousin to cover for me. Told her I'd do all her chores for a month if she pretended to be sick so I could sneak out and go with you."

Marcus blinked. "You what?"

"The goldfish." Jordan nodded at the plastic bag. "I wanted you to have something real. Something that lasts."

"Jordan, you're literally plotting against your family for a high school dance?"

"You're worth it." Jordan's face was serious. "Besides, if I'm going to be in trouble anyway, I might as well make it count."

Marcus thought about the bull in his chest—how it was quieter now. Almost peaceful.

"We're going to be so grounded," Marcus said, leaning into him.

"Totally grounded." Jordan squeezed his hand. "But we'll have photos to prove it was worth it."

Jordan's phone buzzed. He checked it and smiled. "Cousin approved. She says I owe her big time."

The goldfish did one final lap in its plastic universe. The ocean breathed in and out behind them. Marcus was pretty sure this was exactly what happily ever afters were supposed to look like in sophomore year—messy, complicated, and completely worth it.