Fish Out of Water (2 page)

I lock my bike outside the entrance, where Mom told me to meet her today. She and Dad usually work at the research facility nearby, but she often comes to check on the Aquarium animals in the public buildings.

After I get through the line, I use my season pass to get in. Since I’m the daughter of prominent and long-time employees Stan and Yumi Arlington, I’ve had a free pass for as long as I can remember. This place is almost like a second home, the Living Kelp Forest and Outer Bay exhibits as familiar as my own bedroom. I’ve always dreamed of volunteering here, but you have to be at least eighteen. Except all that’s about to change. Finally,
finally
, Mom and Dad have given into my constant begging though I’m still seventeen.

Mom stands by the information desk, chatting with an obviously star struck receptionist. She has that effect on people. With her long black hair and youthful face, she oozes intelligence and beauty all at once.

“I hope it will be a busy summer!” she says, her Japanese accent barely there. She tries hard to mask it at work, but I love that it still slips out, a reminder of where she came from. She spots me and smiles wider, leaving the desk to meet me. “Mika! There you are.”

“Hey,” I say as she gives me a hug. “So what are we doing today? Checking on the otters? Taking water samples? What?”

Her face lights up. “Actually, I have good news to tell you first!”

I tilt my head, unable to imagine what could make this day better. “What?”

“Do you remember that grant from Stanford we applied for?”

I nod. Of course I do. I was drooling over the proposed studies they’d be doing in the bay. There was supposedly a lot of stiff competition for the money, but Mom and Dad are rock stars in their field. “Did you get it?”

“We did!” She bounces a little, she’s so excited.

I join in. “That’s awesome! Please tell me I get to help.”

“We have to take on a few interns, but as far as I know, yes.”

“Sweet!” I selfishly hope they are attractive male interns. “I didn’t think this summer could get any better!”

Mom puts her arm around me. “You’ve earned it. You’ve worked hard at the pet store, and you take such good care of our aquariums at home. We know how serious you are about pursuing this, and we’re so proud.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I lean on her shoulder, soaking in the moment. “What are we doing today then?”

She laughs. “Well, I hope you aren’t too disappointed, but your father and I actually have a meeting with the grant administrators in about thirty minutes. So you’ll have to wait a little bit longer until we get all the details worked out.”

“No worries.” While I’m a bit disappointed not to be starting right now, it’ll be worth the wait. “I guess I’ll just have to go home and be lazy or something.”

“It
is
summer break.”

“See you later.” I float out of the Aquarium. I’m so high on the awesomeness of my impending summer that I treat myself to some ice cream and decide I deserve a present. I end up back at AnimalZone. My eyes dart back and forth as I check to see who’s on the floor. I hope Clark doesn’t spot me. He always teases when I come in after my shift, especially when I come back for the reason I have today.

Dylan stands at my Aquatics island, looking as bored as humanly possible. It takes him a second to recognize me in my sundress and leggings, but when he does his eyes go wide. His sour expression comes back as he says, “Aren’t you off for the day? Or do you live here?”

I clench my jaw, determined to hang on to my good mood. “Thought I’d come back and give you a test.”

“A test. Sure.” He says it like it’s a joke. It was, until he mocked the idea.

“Yes, I’d like to buy a fish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Which one?”

“Something easy to keep.”

“A goldfish then.”

“No.” I put my hands on my hips. “So fail. Big time fail. No fish is easy to take care of. They all have specific needs, and if you don’t respect those needs then you’ll kill the fish.”

He sighs. “Great, I have to work with a crazy fish girl. Is this hell? I think I’m in hell.”

All my happy feelings vanish.
I get the strongest urge to push him out of my spot and tell Clark I’ll never train him. He obviously doesn’t care, and there’s nothing I hate more than people who don’t care about what they do. It shouldn’t matter if you work at a pet store or in the White House—you should do your best.

“Yes, I’m a crazy fish girl. Get used to it.” I tip my head up with pride. “Don’t ever tell a customer fish are easy to care for—they already come in with enough misconceptions. It’s your obligation to make sure those fish get the best possible care.”

“I thought I was obligated to sell pets.”

My eyes narrow. “And if those fish keep dying, we not only lose money through replacements but people stop coming here to buy them. Healthy fish and educated customers make this place money.”

His upper lip curls, but he says nothing.

I smile victoriously and head for the goldfish guppies. “I’d like the one with the black spot on his forehead. Clark taught you how to bag a fish, right?”

Dylan grabs the net and stands, stalking over like I challenged him to a duel. He looks over the fish. “I don’t see one with a black spot.”

“Right there.” I point to my fish. “So much for observant.”

His look is all daggers, but he sticks the net in and attempts to catch my fish. It takes a ridiculously long time, and I almost feel guilty for enjoying his struggle. After several failed attempts, he throws the net on the ground. “Get your own damn fish!”

I stare at him as he heads back to the island. He has his back to me, and his shoulders rise and fall with angry breaths. I pick up the net, wondering what the hell his problem is. “Can’t put a contaminated net in there.”

He flips me off.

“I’ll have to talk to Clark about your customer service skills.” I lean over the island to rinse the net. “Because, wow, that was a serious mantrum.”

Double flip off.

I seriously wish I hadn’t come back here, because it’s ruining my good day. Dylan acts like I’m the one at fault here, and it makes me mad. He should at least be grateful his uncle is giving him a job, but he’s not even trying. I almost point this out, but it doesn’t feel worth it. So I prepare a bag of water and net my spotted friend in seconds. Then I give it a puff of air and tie it off. The guppy swims around happily—at least there’s one thing in this situation that’s nice. Smiling at my new fish, I head for the front counter to pay my twenty cents.

“You really wanted that fish?” Dylan says when I’m half way down the aisle.

I stop and turn around. “Yes.”

His face softens only slightly, as if he’s curious. “So you weren’t just messing with me?”

I shake my head, patting my water-filled bag. “I almost had to send this guy to an early grave this morning and decided he needs a real home. Everyone deserves one of those, right?”

One of his eyebrows quirks. I don’t know what to make of the expression, so I wait for an explanation. Dylan just stares at me. A tiny part of me hopes for some kind of apology, though he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who says sorry. When it’s clear an answer isn’t coming, I continue on my way.

Chapter 2

Our place is a quaint beach house that’s, ironically, not very close to the beach. Juniper bushes guard our small front yard, which is zenned-out with rocks and sand, raked to look like water ripples. A single cypress tree shades the path to our door, and I park my bike on the porch.

The house is quiet, or at least as quiet as it can get with so many aquarium filters humming. Dad jokes that if an earthquake hits, our house will flood from all the tanks breaking. I never found it funny as a kid, picturing all my fish friends meeting such a traumatic end, but now that I’m older I get his joking. We have at least one tank in every room, if not several. Five of them are mine, and that’s not including my koi pond in the backyard.

I head for my room, where my tanks are lined up against the wall. Each one contains goldfish—from comets to bubble eyes to blackmoors. It probably looks like overkill to most people, but there’s just something about goldfish that makes me happy.

My new guppy is tiny. When I hold up his bag to my “Baby Fish” tank, I worry he might be too tiny even for that. I don’t want him getting pecked at, so I decide it’s time to move the biggest fish over to my “Teen Fish” tank. Opal, a pretty white fish with an orange forehead, doesn’t protest much when I scoop her up and place her bag in the adjacent tank. I do the same for my new fish, watching him as I decide on a name.

I smile wide as the image of Dylan’s mantrum flits into my head. He was totally out of line, and though he ruined my mood it was nice to put him in his place. I laugh to myself like a dork. This poor fish will forever be tied to that memory. “I’ll have to call you Dill, sorry. Hopefully you won’t be as sour as your namesake.”

The doorbell rings, and I shoot up from my bed in surprise. Not that we don’t have visitors, but my best friends—Shreya and Olivia—are either working or on vacation. Everyone knows my parents wouldn’t be home. I creep to the door and peek through the peephole, expecting a salesperson.

All I see is a fluff of gray hair and the beginning of an old woman’s forehead. Our only elderly neighbor is Mr. Choi across the street, so I’m not sure what to expect when I unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hello, is this the Arlington residence?” she asks, looking me up and down in a way that makes me uncomfortable.

“Yes?” For a second I wonder if she could be a reporter interested in my parents’ grant, but she seems a little too old and her clothes are more like pajamas than business attire. She can’t be here for an interview.

“Are you the daughter?” I don’t have a clue who she is, but it feels as if she’s picking apart every inch of my face, clothing, and frame. “There are so many Orientals around here it’s hard to tell. You all look the same.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and my tongue goes dry. Not that I’ve never heard a racial slur before, but most people at least
try
to be respectful.

“Well?” she says when I stay mute. “Do you speak English? Or did your mother only teach you Japanese?”

“Um…” I force myself to swallow the shock. “Who are you again?”

She sighs. “You don’t recognize me at all?”

I try to look past her words, try to focus on not letting my anger boil over. I don’t know how old she is, but she looks at least as old as my
Obaachan
in Japan, who we video chat with every couple weeks. Her lips are completely gone, she’s heavy, and she sports a fairly visible mustache. Her eyes are a pretty hazel, even though she scowls at me. I can’t recall ever meeting her in my life. “I’m sorry, I don’t. Maybe you got the wrong Arlington?”

Her frown deepens as she scratches her head, then her face goes oddly blank. Finally, she nods. “I could have. Sorry for taking up your time.”

As awful as her comments were before, her apology is so sincere it takes me off guard. “Don’t worry about it. Hope you find who you’re looking for.”

“Me, too.” She heads back down the path, makes a left onto the sidewalk, and I watch her as she reads house addresses. For a moment, I wonder if I should take her in. She didn’t seem dangerous. Maybe she’s really lost—majorly lost—and needs to call the police for help. Not that I have much to go on, but something felt off about her.

Then I’m closing the door, and I’m back on the couch in front of my laptop, looking at Instagram and getting super jealous over Olivia’s pictures of some beach in Tahiti. Her mom has been saving up for years, but still. I want to be in Tahiti, not alone in my bedroom on a perfectly nice day. I remind myself I’ll soon be out on the bay, studying with my parents—that makes me feel much better.

The home phone rings, and I pick it up even though no one important ever calls on it. “Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this Mika, I’m guessing?”

“Yes?” I swear I know the voice but can’t quite place it, so I decide not to hang up.

“Great—I figured, since it’s summer and all. This is your Uncle Greg. Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, of course!” That’s why he sounded familiar. Uncle Greg is Dad’s younger brother who lives in Seattle. We used to visit him every fall break when I was a kid, but it’s been years now. Dad’s not very close to his family, for some reasons I know and some I don’t. “How are you?”

His laugh is a lot like Dad’s. “Okay. I was just wondering if your dad’s cell number changed, because the one I have isn’t working.”

“Well, he got a new phone a couple years ago…”

“What’s the number?”

I rattle it off, trying not to think about Uncle Greg having a cell number that’s over two years outdated. I may not have siblings, but I hope I’d talk to them more often than that if I did.

“Great, thanks, Mika.” He hangs up without a goodbye, which makes me wonder what would be so urgent that he needs to talk to Dad right now.

As I set the phone on its charger, the doorbell rings yet again, and the peephole reveals the same fluffy hair. When I answer, the woman examines me just like before and says, “Is this the Arlington residence?”

I sigh. This woman is obviously lost and a little off her rocker. If I don’t help her, who will? “Come in, ma’am. I think it’s time to call the police.”

Her eyes bug out. “Oh no, I’m just looking for the Arlingtons. Please don’t call the police.”

I look at the clock in the living room. It’s ten to five. An hour at least before my parents get home, but I hate to think of this poor woman wandering the streets more than she already has. She seems harmless enough. “My parents aren’t home just yet, so how about dinner? Are you hungry?”

Her eyes glisten with tears. “That would be lovely.”

“I’m Mika.” I hold out my hand, and she takes it. “What’s your name?”

“Betty Arlington.”

Without thinking, I pull my hand from hers, too shocked to speak. It can’t be a coincidence, and now that she’s said her name I can see traces of Dad in her features even though I’ve never seen so much as a picture of my grandmother. Dad hasn’t spoken to her in decades, and I can’t imagine he’ll be excited to see her now.