The Last Goldfish of Summer

Leo's __friend__ since third grade, Maya, had dragged him to the county fair even though he'd rather be gaming. She pointed at the mechanical __bull__ spinning riders off like ragdolls.

"Bet you won't last eight seconds," she said, popping a piece of orange __spinach__ dip into her mouth. Leo froze — a bright green chunk was wedged between her front teeth.

He opened his mouth to warn her, but she grabbed his hand. "Come on. I'll buy you a __goldfish__ if you ride."

The goldfish booth glowed ahead, bags of water swimming with tiny lives. Maya knew he'd wanted one since his died last spring, that same week his parents announced the divorce. He'd cried over that fish more than the separation.

Leo's palms sweated. The __bull__ snorted and bucked, tossing a guy in a jersey. Everyone laughed. Leo felt that familiar middle school dread — the spotlight, the potential for public humiliation.

But Maya was grinning, oblivious to the spinach in her teeth, her eyes bright. And suddenly Leo realized: she'd been there through everything this year. She'd noticed when he stopped eating lunch in the cafeteria. She'd invited him over when his dad moved out.

She was trying to make him happy, even if it meant dangling a goldfish like a carrot. Even if it meant eating spinach dip with a focused intensity that had left her looking ridiculous.

He smiled. "You got yourself a deal."

He lasted 4.2 seconds. The bull threw him sideways, and he landed in something that might have been sawdust or pride. Maya howled with laughter, clapping so hard her __orange__ soda spilled down her shirt.

"You looked like a ragdoll!" she gasped.

Leo stood up, dusting himself off. He pointed at her teeth. Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, mortified.

"Why didn't you say something?!" she muffled through her hand.

"I was busy becoming the world's shortest bull rider," he said. "Besides, real friends let each other walk around with spinach in their teeth. It builds character."

She punched his arm, grinning. They walked to the goldfish booth together as the sun set, the sky burning __orange__. Leo picked out a feisty little swimmer, and Maya paid up like she promised.

"What are you gonna name him?" she asked.

Leo thought for a moment. "Bucky."

Maya groaned. "You're the actual worst."

Bucky swam in his bag, oblivious to how much Leo had just grown up in 4.2 seconds. Some rides were worth the fall.