Fish Out of Water
Fish Out Of Water
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2015 Natalie Whipple
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, printing, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by Jenny Jacoby
Cover Design by Melissa Williams Cover Design
Cover image Shutterstock
Author Photo by Michelle D. Argyle
For my grandma Carole, who, though I never quite
understood her, I loved just the same.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1
The goldfish are uneasy, but who wouldn’t be when their potential killer stares them down so gleefully? The little boy bounces in front of the tank while his mother looks at bowls. I stand at my little island in AnimalZone’s Aquatics department, hoping they’ll leave without buying one of my precious fish.
“How many goldfish can live in these?” The woman holds up a one-gallon bowl, seeming slightly irritated by her squealing son.
“Actually…” I glance at the boy, who is now banging on the guppy tank and giggling as the fish scatter, “those bowls are intended for betta fish. That’s not big enough for one goldfish. They need at least ten gallons to do well—twenty, for some varieties.”
She gives me the “Are you crazy?” look. “Really?”
I nod, wishing I could point to where my nametag says
Aquatics Expert
. “They produce a lot of waste, so it would be most humane for the fish to live in a filtered, large aquarium. The ten-gallon starter is only fifty.”
“Well, aren’t you the little saleswoman…” She glances at my nametag. “Mika. I’ll take the bowl, some fish, and some food.”
“Okay.” Apparently
Aquatics Expert
means nothing to this woman. I do as I’m told, not bothering to recommend some rocks and plants in the bowl. That way the fish could hide when her son comes to enthusiastically torture them each day of their short, horrible lives.
“That one! No, that one!” the boy screams as I try to capture the fleeing fish. He’s pointing to the one with the black spot on its forehead, but I really like that one and can’t send him to his death. His mother tells me to grab three of whatever and hands him a candy.
I bag each fish and say a prayer that they’ll go peacefully. People like to think fish don’t have feelings, but as I watch the last guppy squirm in his bag his eyes plead with me to put him out of his misery. I get the sense he knows just as well as I do that bad things are on the horizon.
“It would be good to buy water conditioner,” I say as I hand over the fish. “The chlorine in tap water can kill them.”
“Right. Thanks.” She takes the fish and heads to the front, not even a glance at the conditioner.
There will definitely be a fish funeral in less than a week, which is why I don’t mention they can return dead fish within two weeks for a replacement. At least not to people like that, who are clearly here for a “cheap, easy pet.”
I check on the remaining goldfish guppies. They’re huddled in a tight mass, traumatized by the little boy. I don’t blame them—it’s like a crazed maniac coming into your house, flailing and screaming, and then leaving just as quickly as he came. How can you not huddle there in shock?
“Mika?”
I whirl around, finding the storeowner, Clark Wainwright, at my station. He’s a nice guy, despite his looking a little shady—I blame the creepy mustache and gold watch. But I couldn’t ask for a better boss.
There’s a new face next to him, one that doesn’t seem particularly excited to be here. He doesn’t look at me while I take in his dark eyes and messy hair that walks the line between brown and blond. He wears the signature ugly AnimalZone uniform—lumpy black polo and pleated khakis.
“New employee?” I ask.
Clark nods. “This is my nephew, Dylan. He just graduated and will be working here for at least the summer, maybe longer.”
“
Not
longer,” Dylan says. He makes no effort to be friendly, as if he’s pretending with every fiber of his being not to be here. I can’t tell what he’s like past the serious slouching problem and sullen expression.
“Better get your act together if you think that. Probably couldn’t get a job at all without nepotism.”
“Whatever.”
Clark looks back at me. “He doesn’t have much work experience, but he’ll pick up on things quick.”
“Cool.” I try to put on a nice face, though I doubt he’s right. “If he’s anything like you I’m sure he will.”
“Suck up,” Dylan coughs under his breath.
Hard as it is, I ignore the comment and smile, which earns me a disturbing glare. “I’m Mika, by the way.”
“Figured, since it’s on your nametag,” Dylan says.
So he’s gonna be a jerk like that. Great.
If Clark weren’t here, I’d ask Dylan if he were PMSing, but instead I force my smile wider. “Oh good, you’re observant. That’ll help.”
Clark pats him on the back. “I’ll give Dylan the run-down today, but I thought we’d start him on Aquatics for training, since you’ll be volunteering at the Aquarium this summer, right?”
“Yup.” I beam, not at all embarrassed to show my excitement. My parents are marine biologists at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and I finally convinced them to let me “intern” with them. It’ll look amazing on my college applications. “Sounds great. I’d be happy to train him.”
“Don’t underestimate her, Dylan.” Clark points to me. “She might be younger than you, but she knows her fish and you better listen.”
Dylan doesn’t answer. I have a feeling listening isn’t one of his strong suits. As I watch the two head back down the aisle, I regret agreeing to train him already. He’s clearly going to be a pain in my side.
#
After a quick lunch and wardrobe change, I hop on my bike and head for the Aquarium. The weather is beautiful now that the morning fog has worn off, and even over traffic the ocean can be heard. AnimalZone is pretty close to the Aquarium, so it doesn’t take me more than ten minutes to hit Cannery Row in all its touristy glory. It sits right on the water, a collage of old industrial buildings that don’t quite match with the beachy bungalows in this area of Monterey. What were once canning factories for seafood products are now rows of outlet shops and restaurants. It’s one of the “must see” places for visitors, so it’s always bustling with people and choked with traffic. The Monterey Bay Aquarium stands at the very end, a monument to all the environmental repairs made to the bay after the canning industry nearly destroyed it.
Even if it’s kind of fake, I don’t mind so much. My parents told me a long time ago not to be one of those jaded locals who complains about the tourists. Mom and Dad would be out of jobs without them, since the Aquarium is non-profit and depends on people visiting.
