The Orange Goldfish Run

My track coach always said I ran like I was escaping something I couldn't name. Today, that something was Jordan Hayes moving her orange Stan Smiths into my ex-best-friend's locker. Again.

I'd been doing a lot of running lately—literally and figuratively. Track practice until my lungs burned. Avoiding the cafeteria table where Jordan and Marcus sat, their shoulders touching like it was the most natural thing in the world. Running from the truth that maybe they'd been like that for months and I'd just refused to see it.

"You okay, chica?" asked Lila, snapping me back to reality. We were standing in front of the science classroom, where Mr. Henderson was explaining our final project.

"Fine," I lied. "Just thinking about the goldfish."

"The what now?"

"Our bio project. We're supposed to study animal behavior, right? I was thinking we could do something with goldfish memory. How long they remember stuff."

Lila raised an eyebrow. "You want to spend three weeks watching goldfish swim in circles?"

"They don't just swim in circles. They have this whole social hierarchy thing. It's actually pretty intense." I gestured to the social pyramid taped to the whiteboard behind us. "Like high school, but with more fins."

She laughed. "Okay, I'm in. But only if we can get one of those neon orange ones."

That's when lightning struck—literally. A flash through the windows, followed immediately by thunder that shook the floor. The hallway went dark.

"Well," I said, as emergency lights flickered on, "guess we're stuck here until this passes."

"Yup," Lila agreed, sliding down to sit against the lockers. "So tell me about Jordan."

I blinked. "How'd you—"

"Please. You've been running from that conversation since October."

And just like that, I stopped running. I told her everything. How Jordan and I had been friends since we were six. How Marcus moved here in ninth grade and started sitting at our table. How I'd been so scared of losing Jordan that I never said what I needed to say.

"That's rough," Lila said when I finished. "But you know what's rougher?"

"What?"

"Being stuck in one place forever." She nodded toward the storm outside. "Goldfish only have a three-second memory, right? But we don't have that excuse."

I looked at my orange laces, then at her.

"So," I said. "About that project."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe fish don't swim in circles because they have to. Maybe they swim in circles because they haven't figured out how to break the pattern yet."

Lila smiled. "So we're doing the project. And we're getting that orange goldfish. And we're gonna figure out how to teach it something new."

"Yeah," I said, feeling something shift in my chest. "Yeah, we are."

When the lights came back on ten minutes later, I didn't run to my next class. I walked. And I didn't avoid the cafeteria table, either. I waved.

Jordan waved back.

Progress, I figured. Sometimes the smallest moves forward are the ones that matter most.