Kim Possible is owned by Disney, and Gill is mine only in my dreams.

August 5

Well, here I am at Camp Wannaweep. Dumb name. I sure don't wanna weep—free in the woods, no hot, dusty streets, no parents and sister bugging me. OK, the other kids here are annoying as heck, but what else is new? People are jerks anywhere you go.

And boy, do they have a good lake here. I haven't gotten to swim in it yet, but it looks awesome—cool and green and peaceful. I plan to swim in it as much as possible while I'm here, before I have to go home to that chlorine-y little pool where you can't swim two feet without running into somebody.

August 6

How lucky can a guy get? Twice as much free swim time as anyone else, thanks to a skinny blond kid in a dorky coonskin hat!

This morning, I was stuck playing volleyball, which I totally hate. Whose idea of fun is jumping around under a blazing sun, trying to hit a ball that keeps smacking you in the face, while other kids laugh at you? By the time it was over, I was pouring sweat, my head hurt and my legs ached. I just couldn't wait to get in the water.

And wow, did it feel good when I did! Running, jumping off the dock and splash! into a world of cool dark silence. Moving so easily and freely, in any direction I want. It tasted kind of weird—a bit fishy and metallic—but that didn't matter. Man, I was in heaven. But when I came up for air, a counselor was yelling that I should be in arts and crafts, which I absolutely hate. Tangling string and gluing bits of stuff together—BOR-ING!! At Camp Wannaweep, though, saying no to your counselor is a baaad idea. Someone did that yesterday, and now he has to clean the bathrooms all week.

Anyway, I was just about to get out, when a whiny little voice up on the dock went: "Why don't you switch me with Gil?" Looking up, I saw the aforementioned kid making faces at the water.

I couldn't believe he wanted to give up swimming, but of course I didn't discourage him. The end result: I got his swim time. I guess he couldn't handle the natural-ness of water that isn't perfectly clear. What a squeeb. Some people just don't know a good thing when they see it.

That night…

Uh-oh. I think I'm getting sick. That would totally suck, getting sick at camp. I do NOT want to lose my time in the lake.

I swam for three hours, and it absolutely rocked. The longer I stayed in, the better the water felt. I could feel movements in it, and it started having different tastes that almost made sense. But when I got out, I suddenly felt awful, all dizzy and weak. After hours of spinning, diving and flipping, I guess that makes sense.

At dinner, my teeth tingled and it was sort of hard to chew, but I figured that was the gross fake food they served. At the evening campfire, the smoke made me cough like crazy, my chest felt tight and I had no appetite for marshmallows. Now I'm in my bunk, drenched with weirdly thick sweat and trying to sleep. I really hope this won't stop me from swimming tomorrow.

August 7

Oh. My. God. I absolutely cannot believe what has happened. I don't know whether to laugh, cry or just scream. I'M A FISH!

OK, I'm not all fish. I still have arms, legs, a voice, a human brain. Gotta remember that. But I have GILLS!! And WEBBED FEET! And I'm SLIMY AS HELL!!

OK, rewind. How did this happen? Well, I finally got to sleep last night, but woke before dawn feeling worse than ever. My hands, feet and mouth were sore; my neck was wrapped in burning pain.

In the darkness, I raised a hand to my neck. My fingers touched something soft, and three points of pain shot through me. I kicked, and my feet seemed to catch on the blanket. I flailed an arm, and nasty-tasting liquid fell into my mouth.

Now I was officially freaked out. I tossed off the blanket, snuck out of the cabin and ran for the bathhouse, my feet flapping oddly. Everything seemed unusually bright for night, so I found the building quickly and rushed in. The brilliant lights hit me blindingly, and I shut my eyes. Opening them slowly, I saw my reflection in the mirror.

My skin is BRIGHT GREEN. I have FANGS. I'm DRIPPING WITH BROWN SLIME. And I HAVE GILLS. I looked down: my hands are clawed, my feet clawed and webbed.

Most people would have screamed their heads off at that point. I almost did. But instead, I started laughing and crying at the same time. Fear and revulsion fought over my mind—along with ecstasy.

See, I always wanted gills. I've dreamed about being able to breathe and live underwater. Mom used to tell me, "You're such a fish", to which I always answered, "I wish". But I never thought I would actually grow gills. And I certainly never thought they would come with such a load of utter grossness. My dream-come-true is more of a nightmare. Not to mention, I have no idea how it happened.

Anyway, what do I do now??? I snuck back into my cabin to get my diary, and now I'm in the woods, writing by moonlight. I can't let anyone see me like this. They'll kill me. I'd try to kill someone as hideous as me, if I met him. Where can I hide?

Oh, duh. The lake. I'll hide in the lake and nobody will find me. I can swim all session and no one will bother me about anything. Hey, maybe this won't be so bad.