Three Words and Forever

The snapback hat sat backward on Leo's head, a shield against the world. He'd stolen it from his older brother's closet, hoping some of Carlos's confidence would transfer with the fabric. It didn't.

"You going up there or what?" Marcus asked, lounging against the gym wall with his phone.

Leo's stomach did that thing it always did before presentations — full-on rebellion. He adjusted the hat's brim. "Yeah. Just... waiting for the right moment."

The gym hummed with Friday night energy. The annual Talent Showcase. Parents with cameras. Teachers pretending to enjoy their free time. And somewhere out there, Sarah watching. The thought made his palms sweat.

His phone buzzed. A photo from home: his mom holding up the goldfish bowl, the fish staring judgmentally through glass. "Captain Finley misses you," the caption read. The fish he'd won at spring carnival, the night everything almost changed with Sarah but didn't, because he'd frozen up when she'd leaned in.

He thought about calling his dog, Buster, for moral support. But Buster couldn't fix this. Some things you had to do yourself, even if your hands were shaking and your heart was doing jumping jacks.

"Next up: Leo Rodriguez, playing original music."

The hat suddenly felt stupid. A prop. Fake.

Then he remembered Captain Finley, swimming in endless circles in that too-small bowl. How the fish had somehow survived, kept going, even when Leo forgot to feed him sometimes. Even when the water got murky and there was nowhere else to swim.

Leo walked toward the stage, guitar case heavy at his side. Marcus gave him a fist bump. Sarah was there, third row, actually watching.

The hat fell off as he sat on the stool. He didn't pick it up.

The first note wasn't perfect. His voice cracked on the chorus. But he kept going, like Captain Finley, swimming forward even when the water got murky. Even when there was nowhere else to go but through.

Afterward, Sarah found him by the bleachers.

"You were kind of amazing," she said, and for once, Leo didn't look away.

"Thanks," he said, not mentioning how terrified he'd been. Not mentioning how he'd almost bailed.

Buster would be waiting at home. Captain Finley would be doing laps. And Leo would finally text Sarah back, without overthinking it for three hours first.

Small things. But they mattered.