“Hello, Harold. I’m Jenny. Welcome to your new home. I hope you like it. There are colorful rocks on the bottom, and a plastic plant for you to play in. You’ll be very happy here, Harold.” His little goldfish body seems slightly bigger than reality through the lens of the water. I wonder how I look to him. I hope I look nice, not giant and intimidating. “You’re my best friend, Harold.”

I turn away to let him get settled in peace. He will be very happy with me. I circle today’s date in red on the calendar next to Harold’s tank. He will live longer than Harold 72.

Tap, tap, I sprinkle the colorful flakes into the water. Harold nibbles at them as they fall, floating slowly downward into his plane.

Food is very important to fish.

“I’ll take care of you, Harold.”

He trusts me already, I can tell. I won’t break his trust. He will live a long, happy life. I glance at the calendar again, at the bright circle that marks the first day of Harold’s new life. My eyes are naturally drawn to the day following. Another momentous occasion, though this one isn’t as happy. The first day of school.  My first day of high school. My first day in an actual school ever.

I turn back to the tank, leaning in close to see his gills moving.

“Eat up, Harold.”

*
Life would be much easier if I could put a fish in my pocket. Then no one at school could bother me, because Harold would be there to talk to. But I have to go alone since Harold has to stay in his tank.

Water is very important to fish.

“I have to leave now,” I tell my friend. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll tell you all about school and it will be just like you were there.” He spins in a slow circle. Obviously, he’s very excited for me. “I’m sure it will be…” Suddenly I’m having trouble thinking of adverbs. Nothing seems to fit the end of that sentence. Nothing positive at least. But I’ve got to reassure Harold, or he’ll be worried all day. “Nice,” I finally finish.

I don’t think Harold believed me.

I don’t blame him – I wouldn’t have believed me either.

*
“I’m back, Harold!” I call as I drop my bag and rush to his tank. “It was what I thought it would be. Noisy, crowded , and boring. No one really noticed I was there.” I crinkle my brow as the words leave my lips. Where did that sentence come from? Harold comes out from behind his plastic plant to look at me, apparently as confused as I am.

“Anyways,” I continue. “No one there could possibly be as good a friend as you, Harold.” I tell him about the rest of my day and he watches me and swims around in lazy circles. “You’re a good listener,” I finish. “Thank you.”

I stand up to make a snack. It felt good to talk after not saying a word all day.

*
The same day at school happens three more times with slight variations. Just as I’m beginning to wonder if I’m caught in a time loop, I return to find Harold floating belly up in his tank.
His eyes are clouded over, his scales dull. Lifeless.

My tears hit the swirling water and Harold, my best friend, disappears down the drain.

I turn away, closing my eyes and swiping at my cheeks. He was such a good listener. Talking to anyone else will never be the same.

Deep breaths.

I finally open my eyes to face the empty fish tank I had put in the sink.

Deep breaths.

I clean the rocks. I disinfect the plastic plant. I scrub the algae off the glass walls. I replace the filter. When was the last time I did this? Harold 60-something at most.

Cleanliness is very important to fish.

*
“Welcome home, Harold,” I whisper as I place him in the clean tank. His golden scales are a shade darker than Harold 73’s. He looks somehow more majestic. I can tell already he’s a swimmer, not a listener.

I lean my head against the cool glass. “I’ll take care of you.” I wrap my arms around the cubic foot of water that contains everything that matters to me. “But I have to warn you; I haven’t been very good at keeping my promises lately.” My voice is barely audible to my own ears. I doubt Harold heard me through the water.

*
My fifth day of school is different from the first four. People notice me today. I’m no longer just another face in the crowd. Now I’m the girl with the fish bowl.

I can’t let Harold out of my sight. Not after what happened when I came home yesterday.

“Ms. Teller?”

My heart skips a beat. This is the first time a teacher has called my name for a reason other than roll call.

“Yes?” I squeak.

“Are you aware of the fish on your desk?”

“Yes. His name is Harold.”

My classmates create a murmur of hushed laughter and whispers as my teacher smiles with half his face.

“Could you please remove it? I’m pretty sure bringing live animals to class is against the rules.”

Swallowing my sudden anxiety, I pull Harold against my chest and stand up. “Of course. I’ll just…put him in my locker.”

The water in his bowl sloshes as I walk, but energetic little Harold just swims in circles as always. I pause when I reach my locker. Deep breath.

“It’s only for a little while,” I assure the both of us. Then I close the door and both of us are on our own.

*
I run to my locker after class, weaving between the masses of students who all seem to be going in slightly different directions. I yank open the metal door. As soon as the dark interior of my locker comes into view, a squeaking sound escapes my lips.

And now I’m not just the girl with the fish, I’m also the girl who cries at school. Or maybe I’m only the girl who cries at school.
Harold is gone.

I knew something bad would happen if I left him. I knew it. I could feel it in the way my heart was racing all through class like instinct.

I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. I have to find him. I will find him. But how can I do that when tears are ruining my vision?

“Are you okay?”

I scrub at my tears harder when I hear the voice. I turn, and there’s a tall boy in black rimmed glasses staring at me. If only I knew the difference between actual concern and sarcasm. He could be the one who took Harold.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone took my fish, Harold. I have to find him right away. He depends on me for everything and if I don’t find him, he’ll die. I promised him just yesterday that I wouldn’t let him die, and now he’s missing, and –“

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay.”

I freeze. He spoke back. This tall boy responded to something that I said.

“I’ll help you find him,” he continues. Then he chuckles. “How hard could it be to find a fish in a bowl?”

The bell rings, but he makes no move to get to his next class. I’m still frozen from his words. I don’t remember the last time I had a two-sided conversation not about how much a fish costs and whether I want my change. Two weeks ago, maybe three…

“So,” says the boy. “We gonna look?”

I blink. The hall is empty and silent. “Don’t you have a class?”

He smiles. “The life of any creature is more important than missing angles in a triangle.”

“I don’t know where to start looking. I’ve barely been out of this hallway.” My breath comes faster and faster. There’s no way I’ll be able to find him, but I have to. Whoever took him left his food behind. And food is very important to fish.

“Why don’t we go that way?” He points to the right. “That’s where the upperclassmen have their classes. If someone took your fish, it was probably a senior trying to assert dominance.”

I smile despite myself. This is no time to be laughing, but I haven’t heard a non-sitcom joke in a while. He grins back and I realize making me smile was his intention all along.

He leads me down the empty halls. I look everywhere for anything that could lead me closer to Harold. He’s so small. He could be anywhere.

“Why did you bring a fish to school anyway?”

“He-” I shake my head and take a closer look at the floor.

“You’ll laugh at me.”

“I promise I won’t. Swear on my life, even.”

I pause my search to glance at him. He seems totally sincere. Honestly curious. And he’s even looking behind an abandoned backpack for Harold. Maybe he’s trustworthy.

“He’s my best friend.”

He doesn’t laugh. He nods, like fish friends are normal. “How long have you had him?”

“Since yesterday.”

He stops, breaking the speak-reply pattern I was getting to like. I stop, too, and look back at him. He seems baffled.

“He’s number 74.”

He opens his mouth to speak and I can tell by his face that what he says will be overly polite to hide how strange he thinks this actually is. But then his eyes focus on something over my shoulder. “Is that water on the floor?”

I whip around faster than a minnow. There’s a puddle ahead and to the right. I race forward, and then drop to my knees next to the puddle. It’s definitely water, but there’s no way to tell if it’s Harold’s or not. The boy comes up behind me and points at a single piece of black gravel hiding in a shadow. It must be Harold! I can’t help dipping my fingers in the water, like it will somehow give me a telepathic link to Harold.

It’s a big puddle. And water is so very important to fish.

“At least we know we’re going in the right direction,” says the boy sympathetically.

“Right.” I jump to my feet. Now it’s more urgent than ever to find him.

“Who would do this?” I whisper as we check a darkened classroom. Empty, dusty, fishless. “Who would take Harold away from me? I haven’t done anything to anyone.”

“Some people are just mean,” the boy says. The way he looks down as he says it, the tone he uses, do something strange to my chest. His eyes look suddenly harder, his face darker. He speaks from experience. I kind of want to hear the story that put that look on his face.

There’s never anything new to learn about Harold.

“Then I’m glad I have Harold.”

“There are plenty of nice people, too. Don’t write off all humans because of one bad experience.”

I nod, but my attention is fixed ahead. The end of the hallway looms nearer and nearer. The chances of finding Harold grow slimmer and slimmer. What would I do if I never find him? What would I do without Harold? If he’s not here, I’ll just keep looking. I’ll search until I find him, no matter what.

The supply closet door is locked. I lean my head against the closed door. What if Harold is just beyond this thin wood? What if a slim peace of grooved metal is all that stands between me and him?

A warm hand on my shoulder cuts through my thoughts. “Hey, don’t give up yet. There’s still one more room.”

I look up at the tall boy with glasses who has been helping me all this time even though he gains nothing from the search. I offer the best smile I can. “Thank you for helping me,” I say. “You’re the first nice person I’ve ever met.”

He laughs. “I doubt that.”

“No, really. The first day of school years and years ago, I got sick and had to be hospitalized. By the time I got back, everyone already had their groups of friends, and I couldn’t join any no matter how hard I tried. No one would ever speak to me, and I came home crying every day. Mom brought me home to do school, and no one gave me a second thought.”

“Well then, wouldn’t that make your mom nice?”

“I don’t know. She worked while I did my lessons. Her hand writing is really pretty.” I smile again. “I was all alone until I got Harold 1. He made everything better, and that’s why I have to find this Harold. I can’t lose him after one day. So thank you for helping.”

His eyes had softened more and more as I spoke until they took on the consistency of Jello. “Let’s check that last room, okay? If he’s not there, we’ll look somewhere else,” he says.
I nod and he leads the way to the final door. Silence is all that comes from the other side of the final barrier. I hold my breath as he twists the handle.

It comes out as a scream.

Broken glass carpets the floor. It crunches under my feet as I rush forward to kneel in the puddle. In the middle of all the mess is the dull golden corpse of my best friend. I pick up his lifeless body. He’s slimy and cold, no different from a life fish. But there is nothing living about Harold 74.

“Looks like someone dropped the bowl and ran,” I jump at his voice. I’d forgotten he was here. “You wanna find out who did it?”

“No, I-” my words are choked out by a sob rising in the back of my throat. My body collapses onto the broken glass. It slices into me, but I don’t care. I hold Harold close to my heart as if a pulse is catching.

I broke my promise again.

*
The boy follows me into the girls’ bathroom.

I’ve said goodbye 73 times. 74 isn’t any easier. The water swirls in the same fast whirlpool as always. Harold twists out of view like always. Tears cloud my vision like always. But this time, there is a boy standing next to me with his hand warm on my shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he tells me.

"I'll be your friend now, if you want,” he says.

“My name's Fin," he says.

The pattern always continues. Dead fish, new fish, dead fish, new fish, dead fish…But here there is something entirely new.

Now, there is someone who responds to what I say, who has expressions and memories and thoughts of his own.

Someone who cares enough to wrap his arms around me while I sob even though he’s known me for only an hour.

I’ve never had a shoulder to cry on before.

Somehow it makes my tears taste less salty.