fish
by katja dohse

If I were a fish I think I might have wings. Not like a flying fish, more like a bird or possibly a butterfly, but neither of those can fly very well underwater, and I don’t particularly want to be a fish anyway. I also didn’t want to give the answer most children my age would, which is “shark” or “dolphin,” so when my teacher asked me what kind of fish I’d be, I made one up. Now I’m sitting in the corner.
The corner is my second home. I go there at least four times a week, and the only reason I don’t sit there on Friday, Saturday or Sunday is because we don’t have school.

I have five more minutes, unless I talk, but I won’t and Ms. Sheldon knows it. There is a crack in the wall, plenty of entertainment. It looks like a wing, the kind of wing my fish will have, a good strong wing, but instead of feathers it has scales, shining blue-green scales the glistening silver gleam of seawater. One day I will find that fish and everyone that has ever teased me will be sorry; I might buy the United States and be king of the land…

Only two and a half minutes of fantasizing left, but I don’t remember where I left off. I might stare at the crack for a while till I can leave. The crack is just a crack now, nothing, a simple defect in the housing, a black thread bordering a corner, simple, boring, commonplace.

Most nine-and-a-half-year-old boys would have no idea what I am rambling about, but most nine-and-a-half-year-old boys don’t have a lot of time to contemplate the universe and time, life, or pranks to pull on the teacher.

One minute now. I hope Ms. Sheldon doesn’t call my mom. That would be a disaster! My mom, she gossips—a lot, and eventually he will find out, and he won’t let me live it down, not ever, not even when I’m old. Even when I die, he would talk about it at my funeral. That’s why I want to take over the world. Won’t my brother be sorry then! He will be tortured twice a day, maybe more—ha! He can be starved for all I care, starved to death, I really don’t care.
It’s thirty seconds past my time to get out...Ms. Sheldon knows it! She’s smirking. Oh well, I hate her too, another person in the long list of fools who don’t understand me, me and my amazing mental capacity. THEY WILL ALL BE PUNISHED! Almost, but not quite said that out loud; now THAT would be a disaster. One minute past, this is killing me, Ms. Sheldon knows it, Jessica’s looking back here too! I think I might need to hide, she makes me feel like that sometimes. One minute and sixteen seconds, I wonder if Jessica’s looking at me with pity, longing, or…guilt? She’s the one thing I don’t understand, she and the other girls, even after overtime in the corner to think about it, and researching it in the library.

Two minutes. Time flies when I think about her. “Her” is not Ms. Sheldon in case you were wondering.

It’s an hour till bell; I wonder…if…in the rules…hmm, let me get the handbook out. Let’s see, I’m nine still so the punishment would be…warning? That’s fine then.

The chair creaks as I push it back. Ms. Sheldon doesn’t even look up. So far so good. I get up, walk the three feet from chair to door, open it and…Jessica has just looked up at me. I can’t move! I can only stare at her like a deer caught in headlights. I think she might be walking over to me but I can’t think straight, I can’t move, and I can’t look away! She is three feet away! I can finally gather my wits, so I bolt out the door and slam it shut, heart beating double time, I look down the hall, nobody is coming. My steps echo down the empty hallway. A door shuts, I freeze and turn, nothing, well there might be something, but if there is the pillars are hiding it, like a Star Wars movie, the places they always have gun fights. I wonder if I might have a gun fight too. If there was one right now, yeah, I’d be kinda screwed. I don’t have a gun, or a light saber for that matter. I turn around and run, my footsteps sound irregular, I think I might have been followed, I run faster.

Free at last! I’m outside on the playground. Now all I have to do is scale the fence, get through the bushes, cross the highway… I think I’ve got time though. They’ll never think to look for me here! The swing set’s empty. It’s never empty. I always have to wait forever to swing at recess, and swinging for a bit never hurt anyone! I get on the swing. My neck starts prickling. I turn around. Behind me where the school was there’s a lake, a giant lake as far as the eye can see, only water. My knees buckle, I’m nervous, I put my hand back to steady myself and fall, however I don’t fall on the packed wood chips of the playground, my elbow hits metal, and my fingers start tingling. Somehow I have ended up in a boat. The sun beats down on my upturned cheek, waves bump the side. I get up (almost tip myself into the drink in the process) and look over the edge.
The water is a blue crystal color and as clear as clean air. Light dashes over the surface like dancers, and where it hits the water it creates small rainbows. Dark shapes slip in and out of the shade of my boat. It’s so peaceful that I start to drift off. As I do something nudges the boat, making it rock almost as violently as an earthquake, it nearly succeeds in tipping an oar out. The boat rocks again, this time almost knocking me out. I grab the side and look down just in time to see a blue wing disappear under the boat. I dip my hand in the water. The waves playfully lap under my fingers, but suddenly something wraps around my wrist. I look down. It’s Ms. Sheldon. I shut my eyes, shake my head, open them again, but she’s still there and I am out on the playground again. With my free hand I slowly start digging a hole. Ms. Sheldon glares at me, I stop digging, very quickly trying to come up with some other idea to weasel myself out of trouble. My mind is blank. I glance quickly to my left. Beside Ms. Sheldon’s arm there is Jessica. On her face is a perfect copy of Ms. Sheldon’s glare. I squeeze my eyes shut, nearly crying, but then I realize that I don’t care what they think. I have found my fish and now I can rule the world.

 

Katja Dohse, age 14, is a freshman at Asheville High School. Her interests include reading, drawing, drama, and penguins.