Goldfish

by Penelope Griffin, age 13
Penelope splits time with her mom and dad between Walnut Creek and San Francisco. She loves reading, and her favorite book is The Outsiders. When she's not reading or writing, she likes to go skating.

“I’m a goldfish, and this boy decided to name me Bananas. What kind of name is that? Especially for a fish.”

Every day, I just see a boy staring back at me. I see most everything he does, and not all of it is pleasant to watch. I’m a goldfish, and this boy decided to name me Bananas. What kind of name is that? Especially for a fish. 

I have a pretty nice life though. I just swim around in my tank and wait for this boy to feed me. At least I’m not getting flushed down a toilet.

As I swim around, I question, “Why does this boy have me in his room? Why does he need me?”

And I’m still not quite sure of the answer. All I do is swim in this tank. Is it really that entertaining for this boy? 

This boy, I think his name is Sam. His hair is brown and he has green eyes. He’s fairly pale and tall. Well, I guess every human is tall compared to me. I’m not sure what this boy does. Sometimes I see him on a device with cords coming out of his ears, and he nods his head or dances. Sometimes he sings while he stares at me. I’ve seen other boys come in here. I’ve even seen girls in here too. I’ve seen this boy Sam cry. I do not understand why he cries. I do not understand what he has to be sad about. All I know is that he comes over and looks at me, salt water pouring down his face, and I cannot help him.

I’m useless. Maybe the boy cries because he feels useless. Maybe I make him feel as if I needed him. Maybe that’s why the boy has me in his room. Maybe that’s why he wants me, because I need him, and it’s encouraging to know that someone or something needs you.