How to Catch a Tree Fish

"If you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life thinking it is stupid." 

-Albert Einstein 

Dad is experimenting with chocolate tea again. 

The kettle is whistling down in the kitchen. It goes on for a minute or two. Eventually, the whistling dies and is replaced by the clammer of a mug. 

My dad's mother, my Nona, also used to experiment with tea, which is the excuse he uses. 

Nona was a scary old woman. She would spend hours in her garden and give death glares to anyone who tried to get her to come inside out of the heat. She was eighty after all, but that didn't seem to slow her down. 

The best memories I have of her were the stories she would me. My Nona always told me stories about tree fish. According to her, a long time ago the leaders of the fish decided it was too dangerous in the ocean, with all the larger animals trying to eat them constantly. 

Of course, as soon as they went onto land, everything else there killed them faster. Most of them were lost to the seagulls.

Nearly all of them died, except the flying fish who managed to escape and go live in the trees where they evolved for years and years. 

You can still find them if you bring their favorite foods. Their favorite thing to eat is crackers, but the tree fish can rarely keep them away from the birds. 

Their second favorite food is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Ideally crunchy peanut butter. They can pull out the peanut chunks and throw them at the birds to keep them away, or they can make little building block towers with them if they get bored. 

Today I'm lying outside with my back on the ground in my ratty Salty Crew T-shirt and my legs resting upright on the trunk of a tree, picking at the freshly mowed grass on either side of me and sprinkling it on my cat. Nyx hisses at me and strides away before immediately scurrying back and nuzzling my hand for attention.

The screen door slams and my older brother Aaron leans out. "Dad says to stop rolling around in the grass-" Aaron leans back in the doorway to listen to what someone was saying before yelling again. "He says that he's not cleaning any more grass stains off of your clothes." 

I brush off the knees of my jeans and motion to them. "Look, they're clean. And I'm not rolling around in anything." 

Aaron comes out, crouches down, and wrinkles his nose. "Amy, what are you doing?" 

I glare back at him and tuck one of my black curls behind my ear before stating in a monotone. "I need to focus, stop distracting me, I'm thinking about doing my homework." 

"It's summer how have you still not finished it?" 

"Because it's boring." 

"So you're not busy?" He says casually and leans against the tree. "Can you do me a favor? I dropped my phone in the storm drain by the street can you get it, please?" Aaron shoved my cat away with his foot who was trying to get his attention. Nyx lifted his head and snarled. Aaron gave Nyx a wary look and pulled his knees to his chest and away from the bundle of black and white striped fur. “Your cat hates me.” 

"Can I have gum if I do it?" 

"Sure, I guess, if that's what it takes."

I consider this as Nyx rubs his head against my ankles. "Fine, deal. But you have to help me with my homework after this, and maybe just do it for me." 

"How about no?" Aaron sighed and shook his head. "Please just come on. You have small arms and I have not small arms." 

"You have skinny twig arms." I stand up and walk over to the edge of our mailbox. I pass the stack of yard clippings in a trash bin by the sidewalk and snap a stick off one of the bigger branches. It might be helpful. 

"What the hell is that for?"

"Trust the process." I kneel on the asphalt and feel my legs being scorched by the rough surface. "If I die you have to pull me out, the last place I want to die is a storm drain. 

"But if you stay in there I won't have to see your ugly face at the funeral." 

"Even as a corpse, I would still look better than you." I examine the grate, trying to spot the phone. It's in the far right corner underneath a small concrete ledge. I reach down through the grate but I can't reach it. "Okay, I'm going to poke it with the stick. If I can shift it to the left I can reach through and grab it."

"No, you'll make it fall in! Don't do that!" He grabs my wrists and reached for the stick but I stamp on his foot and pull away. 

"Alright no stick, I'll just use my hands." 

"Never mind I don't trust you." I ignore him and he frantically tries to grab me but I duck out of the way. "AMY NO." 

"AMY YES." I struggle through the grate and reach through the metal bars, and move it with my stick. I reach down now and my fingers brush the tip of the cold metallic case. 

"NO, YOU'RE GOING TO PUSH IT INTO THE WATER-" He tries to pull me away, accidentally jerking me and making my hand bump into his phone. It falls into the drain with a loud splash. 

" . . . . Oops." 

-

So we broke a window. Technically Aaron broke the window by throwing a baseball at me, but I still got blamed. 

I broke his phone on accident so then he threw a baseball at my face and now it's my fault? It's not like I broke his phone on purpose. 

Mostly. I mostly didn't do it on purpose. 

He dropped his phone when he was practicing his pitching. I spend a great deal of my summer making fun of Aaron as he misses the makeshift baseball hitter that he created out of an old broom handle our dad broke and a spare glove bound to the stick by an absurd amount of duct tape. 

Of course, this had to be the one time he had good aim. He isn't very good but he's stubborn- and although most adults mistake that for positive determination, you have to give him credit. He sucks but continues to do it even though he still sucks. 

Our parents didn't hold back. I think it's very unfair that I got blamed for so much. I ducked because I didn't want to get hit in the face, thank you very much. 

Long story short, we're both grounded until we get enough money to pay back the 75 dollars we owe Mum and Dad. It's a bad deal for both of us, mainly because we won't be able to pay the money for a very long time.

I never had much money to begin with, and Aaron is practically broke, so unless one of us wins the lottery we're going to be stuck with no friends for the rest of the summer.

-----

That evening, it rains. I'm in my tiny room organizing my Pokemon cards. I have one Gardivore Rainbow GX, but that's in the shoebox under my bed, along with the grave of paper scraps that were once my report cards.

Someone raps on the window above my desk, and I hear it bang open. Aaron clambers into my room, smearing dirty water on my drawings and dripping water on my floor.

I chuck a crumpled juice box at him. "Don't drip water on my paintings." He dodges and sits down on the floorboards next to me.

I want to yell at him but he ignores the furious look on my face. "Let's figure out what we're going to do," I open my mouth again to shout at him but he shushes me. "Just shut up for a minute." 

 I scowl at him and open my mouth again but he shushes me even louder. Why is the person shushing always the louder?

"I've been thinking about how to get out of this. We have to pay the money to Dad and Mum, right? So how much cash do we have combined?" Aaron asks. 

I think for a moment and stand up to walk over to my bedside table and come back to join Aaron with a porcelain turtle, which I dump over. I quickly count the spilled coins and oddly folded dollar bills before glancing back up at Aaron. "9 dollars and 57 cents."

"So put what you have together with what I’ve got . . that's about 9 dollars and 57 cents.”

"Wow you're contributing so much, thank you." 

Aaron ignores me again. "Question now is, how do we earn the rest? I was thinking we could earn the money and pool it together to-”

"Nice try, I’ll pay off the debt I owe, and you can earn yours by yourself. Go clean the garage or something," I say and start stuffing wads of green paper back into the turtle's stomach by the handful. 

"But don't you want to help me?"

"Why would I help you?" I put my forehead into my hands and start to mumble something. "At least I know I'll be done with it before you so I can rub it in."

"You wish," Aaron smirks and starts to stand up before slipping on a sock and crashing backward banging his head on my floor. He mutters something he shouldn't say- especially around me, according to most adults except Auntie Rosa. 

“PROFANITY,” I gasp.

He gets distracted by something under my bed. ”What's this?” He pulls out a notebook that appears to be very worn and very old. The orange cover has nearly been torn away from the flimsy metal binding. 

"I don't know," I sit down next to him, and he flips the book open. Inside are a bunch of scribbles that look like they're supposed to be fish with giant hairy feet. 

Realization floods through me. I pull the book away from Aaron. "Oh, they're the tree fish that Nona drew for me." 

"If you haven't noticed Nona is dead," he says. I hit him on the head with the book which he grabs and hits me back with. 

Aaron shakes his head. "You know they're not real, no need to get so worked up." 

I snort. "Because of course, you know everything."

"Oh, you're being serious? They're real, huh?" 

"Why wouldn't I be," I start flipping through the book, looking for more sketches. 

"It's stupid, and if you believe them you're stupid." He sighs and holds out his hand. "Give me the book, it's messing up your brain." 

I stick out my tongue and hold it away from him. "No." 

"Give it." 

"IF YOU WANT IT YOU'LL HAVE TO PULL IT FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS!!" I screech. 

"Challenge accepted." 

He starts advancing on me so I scream again. "MUM, AARON'S BULLYING ME-" Aaron claps a hand over my mouth, whispering at me furiously to shut up.

I scrunch my eyebrows together and slap his hand away from my mouth. "How do you NOT think they are real." 

"You have to be kidding, right?" Aaron leans back and smiles in an obnoxious way that clearly shows he thinks I'm funny. 

"Go find a fish with feet and I'll pay your half of the 75.” He folds his arms. 

I stare at him for a moment. "You know how dumb that is? You're going to end up paying all my debt." 

But my voice and my confidence waver for a split second. Nobody has ever given me a reason to doubt Tree Fish before. I never really thought about it.

-

Google does not know how to catch tree fish. 

It did suggest afterward that I look up how much a human liver costs, and holy frick if this ends up not working out I’m selling my liver and my eyeballs. When I shouted down the stairs asking if I could sell my organs my house went silent and my dad came up to ask me if I was okay and did I need to get a psych evaluation. 

I dump out the zip ties, duct tape, and crumpled papers from my backpack. I shove the materials I'm going to need into my backpack, which is Pokémon-themed because I’m cool. 

The next morning I woke up early thanks to my horrible alarm I forgot to turn it off but maybe it's for the best so I get this done quickly. 

Creeping down the hallway, I sneak past my brother's room before pausing, doubling back, and opening his door. 

"Aaron," I pause. "Aarrrooooooon." I walk over to his bed and stand up on my toes right above him. "Are you awake?" He still gives me no response so I poke the space between his eyebrows. 

Slowly he opens his eyes. "Someone had better be dead or dying. If not, then you're about to be," he growls. 

"Oh," I smile, resting back on my heels. "I wanted to see if you were awake." 

Knowing I have mere seconds to get out of the house and live, I run back through the door, picking up my pokemon bag on the way down to the kitchen where I grab the jar of peanut butter I set out the night before. I also snatch the lunch our dad makes us every day from the counter, then book it to the back patio and to the path that leads along Allen Park. 

I've never not loved the atmosphere after rain. Who doesn't? Other people like it because of the weather or whatever but I like it because of the noise it makes on the tin roof because my brother hates it. The serenity ends after I crash into a branch wet with dew. Now I'm all cold and wet. 

After a minute of wandering around aimlessly, I figure I'll have a better view from higher so I jump and grab onto a stub which gives me enough room to pull myself up into the crotch of the trunk.

I'm still pretty low to the ground and there's not much of a difference from my eye level before, so I stick my hand up to climb higher when I touch something spiky.  

I shout and pull my hand back as a little brown bundle of something starts to fall. I quickly slip off my branch and dive down to grab it. 

"You little- you scared me." I'm panting and sit back against the tree to try and catch my breath again. I appear to be holding a small brown thing covered in pokey quills and with stubby little legs. 

"You're too small to be a porcupine . . . " I hold the thing out in front of me and study it. It studies me back. "What are you?" It doesn't reply but makes a little snuffle noise and starts struggling to get out of my grasp so I let it plop down on the forest floor. 

The thing waddles over to my lunch and starts sniffing at it. It manages to lift the top of the brown paper bag and starts exploring inside.

"Hey, get out of there," I slide the bag over and out rolls the pudgy-spined thing. It sees me and curls up, quivering. 

I hold my breath and sit very still. After a second, it shyly opens back up again. I grab the container of peanut butter, pulled the top off, and push it towards the animal. 

It obliges by waddling forward and licking up the peanut butter. 

"Oh," I grin and stroke the quills on the animal. "I get it you're a tree fish!" It couldn't be anything else. I've never seen anything like this. 

"You're a hungry little guy, aren't you?" I tear open my lunch bag and pull out a plastic bag with a smushed sandwich in it. I twist the sandwich into two halves and set one half down in front of the Tree Fish. 

"Tree fish sounds kinda weird, don't you think?" To get a better look at the animal I flop down on my stomach and prop my chin up on my palm. "How about fish? Or is that stupid? What about Pez, that sounds more like a name." 

Pez doesn't respond but I decide that's his name. I'm satisfied with the name so I bite into my sandwich and immediately want to spit it out. It's salmon from last night's dinner and no matter how many times I tell Dad, he keeps putting salmon in sandwiches. 

OH MY, ALL THINGS HOLY AND GREEN, FRICK FRICK FRICK. 

I yelp again and pull the sandwich away from Pez. Hopefully, he doesn't already have a taste for his own kind's fish flesh yet. 

He doesn't look angry at me for making him a cannibal but instead annoyed because I took his food. As long as Pez doesn't know, I think we're okay and I don't think I'm cursed. Regardless of the fact I'm in no immediate danger, I glance around tentatively watching for anything a Tree Fish could have summoned. 

Pez is incredibly hungry and I know I can only feed him for so long. I put all my stuff back in my backpack and put Pez in my backpack for the trek back through the forest.

-

"Amy why is there a hedgehog on the couch," Dad sticks his head through the kitchen door. He sounds amused but tired and I shrug. 

"It's Pez, he's the Tree Fish I found for Aaron." 

Dad starts laughing so hard he has to lean against the door frame for support. "You named it 'fish?'" 

"Yeah," I frown. "Why? Do you think I should change it?" 

"No, no. It's great. Your mum will be proud you're practicing Spanish." 

"AMY." Aaron storms into the kitchen. "THAT was not what we talked about. You said you'd bring back a fish, not a stupid hedgehog." 

I put my hands over Pez's ears. "Don't worry, darling, he doesn't mean it." I frown and look down at Pez. "Well, I guess I can try again." 

"Better late than never," Dad agrees without looking up from his coffee. "Your mother and I were talking, we decided if you two are up for it, you can work off your debt. The attic needs to be organized and Cleo needs help re-painting her room." 

Aaron and I glance at each other and look back at Dad. 

"Isn't she in the middle of finals?" Aaron asks. 

"Mm-hmmm." 

"Okay, we'll do the garage." 

"Excellent, have fun organizing." He grins and stands up. 

I light up and tug on his sleeve. "Hey Dad, can I keep Pez?" 

Dad sighs and rests his elbows on the table. He puts his forehead in one hand and clicks his tongue. "Ask your mother." 

A/N: I had the idea for this story when I was about eleven years old and started writing it around that time. Constructive criticism would be great if you're willing, also thank you for reading to the end, the FIRST draft of this was awful, and hopefully, this was better. A minor spoiler- she grows up and is *hand flip.* Working on another story wither her in it. I'm just waiting for the right prompt to publish it.