Fly didn't press his parents to take him outside again or do anything like it for that matter. He figured, what was the point?

A few more days had passed since Fly's little adventure rescuing Sasha, and nothing noteworthy had taken place during that time. It was more TV, more storybooks with Stella (and Sasha this time. Stella even insisted that the seahorse had her "favorite books" too.), more mealtimes, more games like charades or trivia where Fly wasn't required to hold any pieces or cards.

More of the same.

And Fly never revisited the fight he had with his parents in the car. He knew he was "in trouble", but it wasn't enforced by any kind of punishment. Mom and Dad only told Stella very firmly that she was not to take Fly out of his tank unless she had their permission. No exceptions. And he had an awareness of where he stood with his parents, being on thin ice and all. Pulling another stunt like that would ensure even angrier parents, and perhaps more restrictions due to fear.

His mother tried a few times to plan something for the upcoming weekend, but Fly wasn't in the mood. Her ideas were okay ones, like a picnic at the park or swimming in the inflatable kiddie pool in the backyard. Fly just told her to forget it and he moped around in his aquarium. He had just stopped trying to be upbeat about it all. This was the life he was living now. He couldn't complain. Only go through the motions.

While his back fins were trying to heal, Fly would practice swimming, trying to keep himself balanced. He would still tip over on the side, but he made a little progress each day. At least this is what kept him busy, taking his mind off of things for a while.

Joe also continued living rent-free in his dreams. By now, Fly expected to go to sleep and see the mutant monstrosity drown for the hundredth time. And be threatened with something terrible if he didn't give Joe the antidote. And get critically wounded by a crab. And feel himself suffocate on dry land, flopping about helplessly.

It was getting tiring. He never told anyone about these dreams, and he didn't plan to. It was better that he didn't give them any mind during the waking hours.

However, last night's dream had been different. It was a welcome break from the Joe nightmares, but in a way, he wasn't sure if this dream was any better. He recalled feeling the warm summer breeze brush against his face, his jacket flapping in the wind. He stood firmly on the ground in a pair of baggy jeans and old worn sneakers. He'd cast his line out into the sea and reeled in a bit. The blinding sun was barely peeking from behind the fluffy clouds. Stella had been there beside him, holding a bucket full of caught fish. He didn't remember exactly what had happened in the dream, but those details were what stood out. It was the first time in a long while that he felt…normal. A human again.

It was only in his sleep that Fly felt free. He had the potential to go where he wanted, do what he wanted. Ride his skateboard, play video games, kick a soccer ball, piece together a model plane. Lay in his comfortable bed, feel the hot sand of the beach between his toes, climb a tree, shoot baskets while jumping on the trampoline. And Fly even admitted, he missed the warmth and the comfort of an embrace. His mother tousling his hair, the pats on the shoulder from his father, Stella on his lap as he pointed to each picture in one of her books. He realized how starved he was of physical affection when the last hug he ever got was from Sasha back when they were in the ocean.

While the dreams with Joe left him tired and unsettled, this dream brought about melancholy emotions. Emptiness. And even confusion about what was real and what wasn't. When was he actually asleep or awake? It was all backward!

The following morning also brought something unusual. Lisa, after she had made breakfast and washed the dishes, continued to linger in the kitchen. Fly glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Uh, Mom? It's already nine," he reminded her.

Lisa responded with a smile, "I know."

This confused Fly. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"I decided to take the day off today," said his mother, sounding a little more jovial than she had been in days. She looked at him eagerly, as though she could pass her excitement onto her son.

But instead, the fish's expression tensed. "So you can keep a closer eye on me. Right," he said abruptly.

Her smile faded. "No. It isn't that." She sighed. "I just wanted…I wanted to spend more time with you."

Fly's face softened into a look of curiosity. He watched his mother saunter over to his tank, looking Fly right in the eyes.

"Fly…" she began, her voice gentle. "We haven't been fair to you since this whole thing started. Expecting you to follow this strict lifestyle. Your father and I thought we could keep you safe. Since, well…when we thought we lost you." She choked mid-sentence and regained her composure. "And we just didn't want to take any more chances."

Fly didn't say anything. He kept watching every subtle movement, every shift in his mother's expression. There was a bit of shaking, and some twitching. Gleaming in her eyes.

"But then, I guess we went too far," Lisa continued, chuckling despite her tears. "We should have expected you would do what you did. You were always this headstrong."

In response, Fly said something he didn't expect to say. "Maybe you guys are right."

Lisa raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Fly continued to speak before she could. "I was kidding myself. I can't do anything anymore. And maybe my appearance would freak everyone out. Maybe I'm just meant to be…a fish." The last two words came out weakly, relenting.

"Sweetheart, you're not a fish," said Lisa firmly. The gaze she gave Fly was a common one. He saw this look every time he brought home a report card of A's and B's, after every soccer game won or lost, whenever she witnessed him taking care of his little sister. "No matter what form you take, you're still the same outgoing, smart, and funny boy you've always been."

Fly felt a brief swelling in his chest but still cast his face down. "Yeah, but…how am I going to live a normal life? How am I gonna go back to school? How are you going to explain to people?"

"Honey, we'll figure—" She stopped herself immediately. She cleared her throat. "I don't know. If I'm going to be honest." She let out a slight chuckle. "I must say, this is a very unique situation. We're the only family to experience anything like this. I don't even know where to go from here." Her face started to wrinkle again, her mouth waving and pressing together, her eyes shutting tightly.

"Fly…I'll admit…" She choked back a sob. "I've gone through each day trying to make things normal for you. For everyone here. But…" Her curled fingers brushed at her eyes, which were now surrounded by smeared mascara. "About ninety percent of the time, I don't know what in the world I'm doing. Every decision I make for you that I think is the right thing, turns out wrong. And I have no one to talk to. No advice I can follow. I feel…alone in all of this."

Hearing his mother break down like this, seeing every little bit of her composure crumple before him like a house on rotting supports…Fly confessed it made him uncomfortable. Worried, scared. It now seemed she was talking less to Fly and more to herself. It was funny hearing her say she felt alone because that was exactly how he felt. He was becoming less angry with her, and more compassionate.

"So forgive me, Fly," Lisa said between sniffs and gasps, drying her wet eyes and cheeks with her sleeve. "Forgive me for making mistakes. I'm still trying to process this…change. Trying to make the best of our situation."

"Mom…" said Fly softly. "You're doing okay, it's just that I—" He paused, trying to process just what exactly he wanted to say. "I don't want to be treated differently. I don't want you guys acting like…like we can just sweep this under the rug. People have to know what's happened to me. I don't want to not exist anymore."

"I understand," his mother said. "But what I'm afraid of is…is that your condition will get the wrong kind of attention.

"Like what?" asked Fly.

"Oh, the news. The authorities," Lisa said. "If it went public that you turned into a fish. One that talks, no less—"

"Well, I always wanted to be famous," said Fly, his mouth twisting into a lighthearted smile.

This brought out a good-humored laugh from Lisa. "Yes, but I promise you this is the kind of fame you don't want. Our family—and especially you—would never have a quiet life again. Think of all the crowds, the cameras, the non-stop interviews, the intrusion of our personal lives, all of it displayed on newsstands and shown on TV. And think of all the strangers that will start harassing us."

When she put it that way, it did sound a little stressful. It was true Fly wanted to be famous for something someday, but he had a feeling that in this case, he'd be a walking, talking freak show. "Everyone buy your tickets to see the talking fish!" he imagined somebody saying. No thanks!

"And not to mention Professor MacKrill," Lisa added, now sounding more fearful. "I don't know what would happen to him. He'd certainly face some kind of trouble."

Fly's jaw unhinged. It had never occurred to him, anything concerning the professor. It never once crossed his mind that something bad could happen to MacKrill if the knowledge of his mistake ever came out. He could face public humiliation at best, imprisonment at worst. Everyone would blame him for Fly's misfortune, but Fly knew the truth. MacKrill might have created the potion, but he didn't turn Fly into a fish. In fact, MacKrill tried to stop him from drinking it.

Now his parents' concerns made sense. He felt so stupid and thoughtless.

"You're right," Fly said. He pointed his nose to the floor of the tank, feeling ashamed. "And it would be my fault. This whole thing…" He displayed his fins out in a widening gesture. "...is already my fault. I disobeyed you and left the house while Aunt Anna was over. I drank the fish potion. I wasn't watching Stella when I was supposed to. And-and almost got her and Chuck killed. And now I'm putting you and Dad through all this…"

Now Fly was feeling tension in his face, thinking he could fight off the tears, but it was no use. He could barely speak or breathe between the sobs. "And—MacKrill will get in trouble—it will be because—of me—" The words that tried to leave his mouth sounded garbled, nothing intelligible that he himself could understand.

Then he felt a sense of warmth envelop him. A smooth, gentle touch of fingers cradling his tiny body. He didn't notice it at first because he was focusing on trying to breathe, but when he opened his eyes he saw that Lisa had rolled up her sleeves and dunked both her arms into the water. Her face reflected the same heartache that Fly was feeling, though her cries were more silent.

Within her hands, Fly snuggled in closer, to bask himself in this rare affectionate touch from his mother. It felt more like a hug when Lisa squeezed her son a little tighter, and even massaged his back with her thumb. Fly continued to cry, and after a while, his sobs subdued into quieter sniffles. No words were exchanged during this indiscernible amount of time. Fly didn't care. His mother was here for him. It was just like it was when he was little, after scraping a knee or getting picked on at school. When he lost a game or got a bad marking on a test. Only unlike those other times, this was over a matter that couldn't be fixed. No bandage, no words of encouragement, no training or studying could ever make this situation better.

A knock on the front door disrupted their tender moment. Lisa quickly released Fly, removing her arms from the aquarium. The knock sounded again, in the "shave-and-a-haircut" rhythm. Fly faced the direction of the door and then turned back to his mother. To answer her worried expression, Fly nodded and gestured toward the door with his nose.

"Just answer it," he said.

Lisa gave him a sorrowful smile before she made her way over to the foyer. The voice he heard after the door opened sounded like Oscar, one of the friends he expected to be standing on their front porch.

"Hi," Oscar said. "Is Fly still sick?"

"He is. Is that for him?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah," the boy replied. "My mom made them. I was wondering…can I see him? For a few minutes?"

Fly knew that request was going to be met with rejection. This time, Fly didn't blame his mother. Even though Oscar, Karl, and Lukas were his friends, it didn't mean he entrusted them with secrets. There was no way they could keep something like this to themselves. If it was something incredibly shocking or juicy, it left their little friend circle, as carelessly as letting out a breath of air. And Fly admitted, chuckling to himself, that he hadn't been so good about withholding their secrets either. But it was stupid stuff like Lukas being the one throwing wet clumps of toilet paper on the school's bathroom ceiling or revealing who Karl's crush was. This was a secret he could not afford to get out, especially for MacKrill's sake.

So it took Fly completely by surprise when his mother said, "Come in."

Trailing behind Lisa, the short, freckled, sandy-haired preteen was now entering the living room. From what Fly could tell, Lisa was carrying a paper plate full of chocolate chip cookies. Now that he was seeing his friend in the same room as himself, his mind raced for something to say. He'd been unprepared. After so many days without having interacted with his friends, and thinking he never would again, what could he say?

Finally, both Lisa and Oscar stood in front of the fish tank. Oscar looked impressed. "Wow, you guys got a new fish? Cool! But…" He narrowed his eyes, as though making sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. "...it's wearing a hat?"

Lisa bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Oscar," she said with hesitation. "This is Fly."

"Fly?" the kid repeated, still gazing at the fish in wonder. "By the way, where's the real Fly?"

"I am the real Fly," Fly spoke out.

Startled, Oscar looked around the living room. "Uh, where are you? Fly?"

Lisa placed a hand on Fly's friend's shoulder and pointed to the tank. Oscar's eyes followed. The fish smiled at him, almost sheepishly. "Hey, Oscar. It's me."

Oscar stared, his eyes as glassy as marbles, his jaw hanging loose. Fly swam closer toward his friend. "Oscar, it's okay. Just lemme explain."

And then the boy shrieked, jumping backward. "Wha–what?! It's talking! The fish can talk?!" He began hyperventilating. "There's no way! There's just no way it's talking! Fish can't—! What's happening?!"

Oscar continued rambling, mostly repeating the same phrases over and over. It was like his brain had errors popping up, keeping him from thinking straight. From processing what he was witnessing.

Lisa had set the cookies on the coffee table and was trying to calm him down. "Oscar…Oscar! It's okay. Take some deep breaths."

Soon when the boy was more relaxed, he eyed Fly again. He looked nervous. "Okay…Say something." It was like he was daring the fish to break reality again.

Fly smirked. "I am your father," he quoted, putting on the deepest voice he could muster. "Join me, and together we will rule the galaxy."

This time, Oscar didn't jump, he didn't scream. His eyes were wide, still gawking. Then it seemed the jumbled chaos in his mind was piecing itself together. "Fly?"

Fly snickered. "Yeah, you dork. It's me."

"But how?" Oscar shook his head. "Okay, here's a question. I haven't told anyone else this. What's my middle name?"

"Oscar," Fly answered. "Your real name is Waldemar."

"Shh!" Oscar hissed. "Not so loud!"

"Hey, relax. Karl and Lukas aren't around," Fly said unconcerned. "Where are they anyway?"

"I came by myself," said Oscar. He stared at Fly some more before asking, "But how, Fly? How are you…a fish? What happened? How is this possible?"

Fly passed a questioning glance at his mother, who twisted her mouth in response. The truth is all I've got, he thought. But he wanted to protect MacKrill. At the same time, how could he explain the fish potion?

Fly considered, looking at Oscar. Out of all the friends, he supposed Oscar was the one he could trust the most with secrets. He was an honest kid who kept promises and followed his word on things. Any item that was borrowed was returned promptly when he said he would. Every confidential conversation never went past his lips to anyone else, not to Fly's recollection. If there was anyone he could let in on this fish potion story, it would be him.

So Fly decided to tell him the story. He tried to be as brief and vague as possible on the details, not even mentioning Joe and his plot to take over the ocean. He just passed it as him, his sister, and his cousin losing the antidote and swimming the entire ocean looking for it.

"So lemme get this straight," Oscar said as Fly concluded. "There's a mad scientist right here in our town, making potions that turn people into stuff?" He sounded incredulous like he didn't believe one word of the story.

"Pretty much," said Fly.

Oscar pondered for a moment. "Cool!" he said. "Where can I find him? I want to be a fish too!"

Fly laughed sardonically. "Yeah, you'll want to be a fish. Until you're stuck like one."

Then Oscar gaped. "Wait, you mean it's permanent?"

Fly nodded seriously. "If you don't drink the antidote in forty-eight hours."

His friend frowned. "Is there any way to change you back? Does that professor guy have something?"

"I don't know," said Fly, glancing to the side. "He might be working on something. Maybe."

"Oh." Oscar looked sympathetic. "I can't tell Karl and Lukas, can I?"

Fly shook his head. "You can't tell anyone. Not even Karl and Lukas. We don't want word to get out. It will draw too much attention."

Oscar nodded in understanding. "Right. But what if they ask about you?"

"Then say I have a really contagious disease," said Fly. "Don't even mention you came to visit me. Play dumb."

"Okay," said Oscar. "I won't tell."

Oscar stayed for a few more minutes before saying he had to get home and do his chores. He bid Fly and Lisa goodbye, running out the door before Lisa shut it after him, locking it tight.

Fly then asked his mother, "Why did you let Oscar see me?"

Lisa sighed through her nose. "I don't want to isolate you, Fly. I never did. It was just hard knowing what to do, and who to trust. But I think you should be able to see your friends, have a social life."

"But what about the 'unwanted attention'? The professor? Do you think it was a good idea telling Oscar?"

Lisa stared out the front window for a moment and then nodded. "I think so. I have a good feeling we may have done the right thing this time."