The day finally arrived when the brace came off, and Fly could at least swim around in his tank. MacKrill had asked him a series of questions, and told him to move certain body parts in certain ways before determining that it was time. Once the imprisoning bindings came off, Fly twisted his body, swished his tail fin, and swam around in tight donuts. Freedom at last!
Well, freedom as far as a fish in an aquarium could get.
He felt so well that it was as though he was never slashed by that crab in the first place. Whatever the professor did was nothing short of a miracle.
"Now it's time for your breakfast," MacKrill announced with pep in his voice. "Any preferences today?"
Fly smacked his lips. "Man, I could go for some bacon right about now."
The professor's smile faltered, placing an index finger beneath his lip. "Erm…I don't believe I have... My apologies. How about breakfast cereal? I have toasted oats and bran flakes."
Darn! And it was the blandest cereal. But, hey, it wasn't fish food!
"Toasted oats, then," Fly said.
"Coming right up!" The professor briefly departed before returning with a slightly beaten-up box of cereal. He opened it and poured the morsels into the tank. They floated on the top, which was now no longer a problem for Fly. He snatched each piece with his mouth, enjoying each crunch.
The past couple of days had MacKrill giving Fly different kinds of food, starting with something safe like lettuce and peas, then moving on to small pieces of apples and carrots. Then just yesterday, MacKrill had Fly's parents bring in takeout from the local burger place. Everything had to be cut into miniscule portions, but that didn't matter in the least bit.
Fly knew he'd enjoy that burger and fries, but man…he had no idea how much he'd missed it. It seemed to taste a lot better this time around.
After the burger came Fly's usual fare of pizza, chips, cookies, popcorn, and candy-coated chocolates. Sample sized, of course. So far there were no issues with digestion, leaving MacKrill to conclude that it was okay for Fly to consume the regular human diet, if only in small amounts.
After breakfast, his parents and Stella came over to the lab. His little sister toddled over to him. "Fly! Fly! Are you all better now?" she asked.
Fly showed off by doing vertical loops and corkscrews. "What do you think of that?"
Stella giggled. "Do it again!"
"Fly, we brought you some bacon and eggs," Bill said. He was carrying a dish from home with a pot cover over it.
Fly's mouth watered. "It's like you knew exactly what I wanted."
"Well of course, we're your parents," said Lisa as she scooped up the cut-up food with a fork and scattered it across the tank. Fly gobbled them up right away.
"According to my latest tests," MacKrill addressed the parents, "Fly should be ready to go home today. Did you get the necessary materials as per my recommendations?"
"We did," said Lisa.
"Good, good! Now I have a list of instructions to properly care for his underwater environment. As you know, Fly is a fish now, so certain needs must be addressed and given to him without exception." He handed Lisa a rather thick bundle of note papers with his chicken-scratch handwriting. "Of course, I'm willing to answer any questions you may have that I didn't already cover. You are welcome to visit the lab at any time."
"Well…thank you," said Lisa, staring bug eyed at the notes.
"In addition, I'll need to come over regularly for some check ups. To make sure everything is going smoothly," said MacKrill.
"What if we need to reach you, in case of an emergency?" asked Bill. "You do have a phone…?"
"Ergh…hmm…now, let's see. Do I have a telephone?" The professor scratched his head. "I'm afraid it's been a while since I've had any contact with anyone outside my lab. But you do bring up an excellent point! I must get a communication device of some sort!" He shook Bill's hand enthusiastically with both of his own. "Very good thinking, sir! Very good!
"Oh, and I almost forgot!" MacKrill briskly stepped out of the room. The family heard a pile of stuff jostling around, a few crashes and metallic objects hitting one another. The professor came back holding a fish bowl. "This is only temporary for when you have to transport Fly home. Then place him in a suitable aquarium as soon as possible."
He turned to Fly. "Are you ready to go?"
The fish grinned. "I've been ready since I got here, Professor."
The professor dunked the bowl into the tank, filling it with water. Fly swam inside the opening, looking up at MacKrill. "Hey, Professor…?"
"Yes?"
The boy admitted that he wasn't used to feeling this much gratitude for anything, much less expressing it, so words were tricky to find.
"Thanks…for saving my life."
MacKrill smiled gingerly. He held the bowl to his face so that he looked Fly in the eyes. "Anything for a dear friend, Fly."
Fly returned the smile. Yes, he considered the kooky old scientist a friend now. Not just because of everything he'd done in the last couple of days. He liked the guy. He was weird, but fascinating.
MacKrill handed Bill the fish bowl, the father nodding.
"We appreciate everything you're doing for Fly," said Bill.
"Oh, it's no trouble at all," the scientist said. "Now that we have everything in order, you can go home! I, on the other hand, have much work to do here."
After saying goodbye, the family departed the lab and hiked to where the car was parked. Fly had to admit, it was weird. He remembered some time ago when he was younger, he and his parents walked out of the pet store with newly acquired fish. The boy carried them in plastic bags filled with water.
This is what it feels like for them, Fly thought.
Once they got to the car, Stella tugged on Bill's jeans. "Daddy, can I hold Fly?"
"All right, but just be careful, sweetheart," Bill said. Once Stella was buckled into her car seat, her father set the fish bowl on her lap. Her hands clasped the bowl tightly in place.
"I got you, Fly," she said. "I won't let you fall."
"I know you won't," said Fly. "But hang on tight when we hit that speed bump going in our neighborhood."
The car got going, and everything so far was going smoothly. Stella kept her word and was gripping the glass bowl like her life depended on it. It was a bit shaky for Fly, and he found that swimming around made it less jarring for him.
"We got a lot of fish tanks in our house now," Stella told her brother matter-of-factly. "Mommy and Daddy went to the pet store and bought them."
Fly raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
Stella nodded vigorously. "I even got one in my room." There was much pride and excitement in her voice.
"That's great, Stella. Then I can hang out with you, and read you some books."
"Can you read me one when we get home?" asked Stella.
"Sure," said Fly.
"Are you two doing okay back there?" Lisa called from the passenger seat.
"Yes, Mommy."
"Yeah. I'm okay."
They finally entered their street. Fly could see out the window the place where he often practiced ollies and kickflips on his skateboard. He thought about taking it out today, but then remembered. The fish frowned.
They pulled up to their driveway. Home at last, thought Fly. After days of being in the ocean and the professor's lab, Fly was just glad to be somewhere safe and familiar. He gazed at his house, looking forward to crashing on his bed with his handheld video game.
But then he remembered. His heart was beginning to sink.
Everyone unbuckled and got out of the car, Stella still carrying Fly's bowl. Bill took out his keys and unlocked the front door. Fly floated there in anticipation.
"Just to warn you, Fly," said Lisa. "It's going to look a little different here."
Fly shrugged. "I'm expecting it."
The family entered the threshold, and Fly saw that his mother was right. Furniture had been moved around, an assortment of misplaced items were scattered on the floor, and large fish tanks, probably about fifty gallons, were placed in every room. There was one in the living room right in front of the TV, one in the kitchen by the table, and another that Fly could see out the back door that was in the yard.
"Whoa…you bought all that?" Fly gasped.
"So you can have access to as much of the house as possible," said Bill.
Fly didn't know what to say. It was going to be an adjustment, that's for sure.
Lisa seemed to notice her son staring agape. She said to him in a sympathetic tone, "I know this is going to be hard, and it will take some time to get used to. We're trying the best we can for now until we can figure something else out."
"I don't have a problem with it. It looks great." The boy sighed. "It'll work."
He put on a cheerful grin for good measure to assure his parents. "So," he said. "Anything good on TV right now?"
His parents got him situated by pouring him into the living room fish tank, and turning on the TV. "Just let me know what channel you want," Bill said.
There wasn't anything interesting on live TV during the day, so Fly requested that they put in a movie instead. It was Fly's all-time favorite. Instead of worrying about his current situation, he could get lost in the intergalactic travel, the saber duels, and the ultimate battle between the rebel forces and the totalitarian empire.
"Can you see it okay?" His mother would keep asking. "Do you need me to adjust it? Turn it up?"
"It's fine, Mom."
Then lunch came around, so Fly was moved between tanks via MacKrill's fish bowl. It was ham and cheese sandwiches today, with carrot sticks and grapes on the side.
Stella plopped herself on the chair right beside her brother's tank. "I'm going to sit by you!" she declared. "Would you like a grape?"
"Sure, I would love a grape!" Fly put playful enthusiasm in his voice.
Stella tossed the grape into the air and it plopped into the water, splashing it on the floor and table.
"Stella! Don't be throwing food," Mom scolded.
After Fly gobbled the grape, he had an idea. He waited for Lisa to leave the kitchen before saying to Stella, "Hey, toss me another one."
"But Mommy said–"
"Quick, before she comes back." Fly winked at his sister.
Stella pulled another grape from the stem. Fly eyed the piece of fruit, readying his entire body. Once the grape was in the air, Fly pushed himself upward as hard as he could. He splashed back into the water, but saw that the grape was floating inches from where he had been.
Darn! He'd missed.
"Again," he commanded Stella.
Stella tossed another one. Fly leapt out of the water again like a dolphin. He felt the grape hit him on the bridge of his nose, and saw that it had bounced off and landed on the dining room floor.
"I'll get it this time," muttered Fly.
The little girl giggled while she threw grape after grape toward Fly.
"Hey, not so fast, Stella!" Now there were multiple grapes floating in his tank. "Just one at a time."
Stella grinned as she held one grape between her stubby fingers. "Get ready," she said.
She tossed, and he jumped. It happened so fast that Fly was amazed to be holding the grape between his teeth.
"Yay! You did it!" Stella cheered and clapped. Fly bowed, and then sucked the grape into his mouth.
"Stella! What did I just get done saying?"
The kids turned to see Lisa standing at the kitchen entrance with her arms folded, staring sternly at her younger daughter.
Fly quickly jumped to his sister's defense. "Mom, it's not her fault. I told her to do it. I wanted to see if I could catch food in midair."
"And he did!" Stella exclaimed. "You should've seen it, Mommy!"
Lisa raised an eyebrow. If she was impressed, she didn't show it. "Well, I expect you to clean up your mess, Fly–"
She stopped herself, her tightened face softening. Her widened eyes gleamed in the kitchen light. Fly didn't expect this reaction at all. He suddenly felt guilty.
"Right," Lisa mumbled as she tore paper towels off the roll.
"Mom, I'm sorry," Fly said. "Let me help. What can I do?"
"Don't worry about it," Lisa said, her voice low. "Just don't toss any more food."
Fly glanced down. "...Okay?"
Lisa was wiping up the spilled water while Stella gathered up the dropped grapes. Fly watched them helplessly. Great, he thought. I made the mess, and they're cleaning up after me. So much for trying to have fun…
After lunch, Stella asked if she could take Fly upstairs to her bedroom. Their parents obliged and transferred Fly yet again to the brand new fish tank that sat on Stella's dresser. Fly had a feeling that all this moving around would get old after a while. He especially didn't envy his parents who had to constantly drop whatever they were doing just so Fly could change scenery.
Once in the room, Stella pulled out a book from her bookshelf and held it up for Fly to see.
"Read me this one," she said.
"The Little Mermaid," Fly read the cover. "Okay, open it up."
She did. However, the print appeared as blurred lines from Fly's perspective. He squinted. It was too far away. "Could you bring it a little closer, Stella?"
The small girl jumped, but it wasn't high enough. She had to drag a chair from her tea table and stand on it.
Fly swam up so he could see the top of the first page. He cleared his throat. "Out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep…"
As he read the story, Fly found that he related more to the little mermaid's plight. To become human, now wouldn't that be something? If only there was a sea witch. He supposed MacKrill was the closest thing he could get in real life, but he knew the man was no wizard.
He remembered Chuck a few days ago when he first saw him since their underwater escapade. What was he talking to the professor about? A formula? One he stayed up all night studying? Was it for the fish potion? Was Chuck trying to figure out…a cure?
Fly dismissed the idea. Chuck was brainy, there was no question about that, but could his cousin really think up something that advanced? Even MacKrill, a man with a PhD, didn't have a solution.
He hadn't seen Chuck since that day. His parents told him that he and Aunt Anna went back to their home so she could go back to work. Fly wanted to ask Chuck what he was up to, but it would have to wait. Fly couldn't think of how he could reach his cousin in the state he was in, unless phones could somehow work underwater.
Hours later, Fly was returned to the dining room for dinner. This time there were no shenanigans. Lisa scraped food she had carefully diced up into the tank, and Fly ate without a word.
At the dinner table, there was light conversation between the parents, mostly about subjects not related to the major elephant in the room. Or in this case, fish.
The only time Fly was brought up was when Lisa directed a question at him. "Is there anything you'd like to do tonight? A movie, or a game?"
"To be honest," Fly said. "I'm a little tired. I just want to go to bed."
"Ah, sure don't blame you," Bill said, stretching his arms. "I think we all do."
Lisa nodded, and she rose up to gather plates and silverware.
As Lisa took Stella upstairs to get her bath, Bill was the one who brought Fly to his bedroom. The boy should have felt relieved to be back in his own room. Everything was just as he left it days ago. The fishing rod he took with him that fateful evening (and that he'd forgotten about) was leaning against his double decker bed, the lure he'd just made still attached to the line. Mom and Dad must have brought it back for him.
Not that there was any point, though Fly still appreciated the gesture.
The fish tank above his desk was empty of any of his pet fish. It was cleared out and move-in ready.
"We moved your fish downstairs," Bill explained. He carefully poured Fly out of the fish bowl into his new sleeping quarters. There was a little plastic cave in the center with some fake plants.
Bill smiled at his son, and heaved a sigh through his nose. Fly could see that his dad's eyes were not emoting at all like his lips. They were burdened, heavy, almost ready to give up.
"Well, all things considered, I'm glad you're here with us," he said gently.
Fly nodded. "Yeah…"
"Son, I just want you to know that no matter what happens, whether you are a fish or not…"
"I know, Dad." The fish grinned. "You love me and are proud of me."
"And don't ever forget it," said Bill. "Your mother and I will do everything we can. You know we'll fight for you."
"I know…" Fly cast an aside glance. I'm sorry I got us into this mess.
"Now is there anything you need before I go?" asked Bill.
Fly shook his head. "No."
Bill headed out the door. He took one last look at his son. "Goodnight, Fly. Sleep well."
"'Night, Dad."
With that, the door closed, leaving Fly all alone. He swam inside the cave and turned so that he faced his room. A little light shone through the window as the summer sun had yet to set. The place in which he called his own, where he sought refuge almost every day. Now, more than any other room in the house, he felt very out of place in it. Everything strewn about it could only remind Fly of what was no longer his life.
The model planes and cars, he built those with his own hands. Pieced them together with fingers and glue. Hours dedicated to something he loved doing, and the end results being proudly displayed like trophies. There were even some unopened model kits stacked in his closet that he intended to get around to…
The sports balls. Fly had looked forward to the fall when soccer season would begin. And even playing street hockey with his buddies, or shooting hoops in the driveway. All the running, jumping, throwing, shouting, tackling, kicking…he could forget all that now. Fins were no good for any of it.
Fly returned to the fishing rod by his bed. Even if he had turned human again, he would've lost all desire to go fishing. Still, it saddened him that he could no longer enjoy the activity where he could get away, relax by the seashore with the wind blowing through his hair. He could just sit at his favorite fishing spot–the rock by MacKrill's lab that jutted out into the sea–without a care in the world, and just fish.
And to think that was what started all of this.
This.
Just last week, he had a pair of legs, two arms, fingers with opposable thumbs, and was average sized for someone his age. Just last week.
He made one choice, and now everything he ever loved and cared about was gone.
This was his life now. This…glass-encased, water-filled prison was where he would be for the rest of his life.
It was weighing on him like a mountain of bricks, crushing the life out of him. The voice of optimism in his mind went quiet all of a sudden, as he realized he couldn't pretend anymore. It wasn't fine. None of it was fine. He thought he could get through it. He thought…
The brave face came off. All of his insides grew weak. If fish were capable of producing tears, Fly was now finding out. He held himself with his fins, his body heaving with every quiet sob. He felt smaller than he'd ever felt before, even as an eight-inch fish. He was helpless…useless.
At this moment he desperately wanted–needed–someone to hug him. But he couldn't even get that. He clenched his teeth in frustration. Anger fueled his crying even further. Why did MacKrill even make that stupid fish potion? Why?
Why…?
Soon the room was completely dark, and Fly huddled there alone, transitioning from one nightmare to another.