The Goldfish's Grand Slam

Eleven-year-old Leo knelt beside his fishbowl, watching Finnegan swim in lazy circles. The little goldfish had been his birthday gift last month, and already Leo loved him like a best friend.

"I wish you could see me play baseball tomorrow," Leo whispered, pressing his palm against the cool glass. "It's the championship game."

Finnegan swam to the glass and bubbled: *Blip. Blorp. POP!*

Suddenly, the room shimmered like sunlight on water. Leo rubbed his eyes. Finnegan was floating OUT of his bowl, hovering in the air like a tiny orange balloon.

"I've been waiting for you to ask!" Finnegan said, his voice sounding like bubbles in a soda can. "I used to be the greatest baseball player in all the Seven Seas before I was caught in a net. I can show you the winning pitch — if you promise to set me free after the game."

Leo's heart raced. "You'll teach me? Really?"

"Not just teach," Finnegan said with a wink. "I'll be your lucky charm."

The next day, Leo stood on the pitcher's mound, sweaty palms gripping the ball. But this time, Finnegan was hidden in his pocket, peering out through a tiny hole. When Leo wound up to throw, he felt a strange tingle in his fingers, like ocean currents flowing through his arm.

*WHOOSH.* The ball sailed impossibly fast, past the batter, into the catcher's mitt.

"STRIKE THREE!" the umpire shouted.

Leo's team won the championship, and that evening, he carried Finnegan to the beach. As the little goldfish swam away into the waves, he turned and splashed water toward Leo in the shape of a tiny baseball.

Some friends, Leo realized, stay with you forever — even when they have to swim away.