Onto Them

Guppy.         

His name is Guppy.

He is a blue, scale-rimmed, snake tongue-tongued, violet-eyed creature.

I knew him since he came into this world as a guppy.

I guess that’s why he’s Guppy.

Everyone at school mocks him.

He’s a loser.

I befriended him.

I also tease him. But I know he’s sensitive. But my teasing can help him overcome his bullied life.

But he and I are friends.

Guppy and I are friends—have been since we were born.

We’re the best of friends—like that song in Fox and the Hound. Hopefully closer.

He comes over to my house, and I to his. We have sleepovers, eat brownies (our favorite snack, baked by him), go fishing (sometimes I fish for him!) and gaze at the night sky. Sleeping over at his house is better than him at mine because of all the trees in the way. They yawn so loudly I can’t hear them. Anyway, I saw him being bullied at school. He couldn’t help being born that way. I met him when he was a little guppy, and I was just beginning to walk. I stumbled, fell and then got back up. He swam, but also walked—his fish tail would morph into a human pair of legs.

Guppy’s weird—but I don’t want him to feel left out.

However, I…

I have a secret.

Guppy doesn’t know it.

And I don’t want him to know it.

Guppy’s never known friendship like my friendship with him.

I always go to the aquarium with him. The other classmates wipe their mouths on the glasses and make dumb faces as they try to intimidate Guppy. But he bolts right over to the glass, making scary faces. His eyes become fiery red. He unleashes his claws. He unleashes his fangs. They dash away, hopefully faster than any fish I’ve seen.

Guppy’s a friend.

Guppy’s a great boy to be with.

We’re not like brothers. But he’s fun.

I’m funny. I tell him jokes all the time.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs. I laugh, too. While I’m telling it to him, I laugh. He asks whether I can withstand a joke without laughing. I ask whether he can withstand a joke without laughing in public. We do have our trips and falls. He laughs out loud in public, sometimes interrupting the teacher. and then jabs a finger at me. My cheeks burning, I gulp and shrink down into my seat. Everyone—well, I think Guppy’s bullies—mock me.

They’ve found another fish to catch. And gut. And eat. And then vomit the bones.

So we’re both fish, deboned, at the bottom of the sea. We’re the losers.

One day, Guppy gives me a magical pill to swallow. I swim around with my new fish tail, admiring the magenta scales! The sea is so clear, not mucky—

“Louis and them can drown in the oil-inked waters of the ocean, where ducks and other innocent sea life are dying.”

“Yeah—wouldn’t we like to dunk them down for a swim?”

A nasty thought slithers through my mind. Watching Louis and his buddies struggle for air as they gulp down a waterfall of oil. I pull them out as they, shaking, apologize, never insulting, hurling dodgeballs at, poking, spilling milk on and snatching homework from us again. I tell Guppy.

He pursed his lips and then smiles smugly. He jerks his head over. I nod.

The boys thrash, their skinny arms unable to save them from drowning. “Save us!” They plead, their heads going up and down, their cries for help not helpless enough.

I grab them by the collar, Guppy and me glaring at them all. Louis, Luis, Randy, Evan and Randall all stare at us, their eyes shimmering and their bodies shaking. Their teeth chatter. “Y-you could of g-given u-us f-fros-frostbite!”

One jumps, and the other orders him to stop. “We’re not giving them the benefit of the doubt!”

You want to know my secret?

The other one obeys. Teeth chatter. But no words are resurrected.

Geez! We just push them into the river. The River Thames.

Yes, we are in Greek Mythology textbook. But we can. We can transcend this world into others.

These boys are let go—they come back to haunt our dreams, we end theirs by sending them back to—

Guppy looks at me. “How are we going to keep them here? We’ll be framed for murder.”

The boys beg us to free them. I do—on one condition.

“Yes, yes!” They slip away.

Guppy shakes his head. “I don’t know. We’ll be at school. They’ll be there, too.”

I hope not, I said, grabbing a stick. It fell to pieces. I wished this stick had reminded me of what the boys would be doing—falling to pieces as the Greek gods took advantage of their abilities to make Greek chariots and chain horses to such metallic beasts. They would train those ferocious animals, manipulated into thinking they’d get some prize or—

Reality check out of the whole thing. I smiled. Guppy gulped, backing away. What? I asked. They shouldn’t bully us.

Well, I shot back. I’m sick of their games, pranks and jokes. We crack jokes. We can stop them!

Guppy shakes his head. Please, he begs. They’re just students. We’ll be out of there by the following summer.

I shook my head. Guppy and I could speak to each other, but we both spoke a different language. He didn’t understand the danger these boys could cause. If they cause irreparable damage to either of us, they’ll get away with it. But if we…

I got a plan.

Guppy’s face contorts into anger. Fists balled, he jerks back and threatens to break the friendship.

I reveal something I’ve never done before. I go over to Guppy and throw my arms around him. He hugs me back.

“I need to be loyal. To you!”

Guppy squeezes me, and then we let go. “Please!” His eyes shimmer.

I blink, and then we walk, his arm slung around my shoulders. We walk out of the book.

Away from the chariot idea, but not from the Greek Mythology textbook.