Fishin' Read online

  WITH THANKS TO PAUL EBBS

  “OWWWWoooooooOWWWWWoooo-ooWWWWWOOOOOOOOWWWWoo-oooooOWWWWWooooooWWWWW-OOOOOOOOWWWWoooooooO-WWWWWoooooo!!!!!!!!!!!”

  Let me explain.

  That is the sound of me being swung by the tail.

  Yes. Tail.

  I’m a hammerhead shark. Which means I have a hammer-shaped head at one end, and a tail at the other. Which means I’m the dorkiest-looking shark there is, ever, in the history of shark (and that goes way, way, way back).

  “Oooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!”

  And that’s the sound of me flying across the school playground, over the heads, fins, and tentacles of the other kids and squids.

  I bounce on the finball field straight into the goal, bulging in the net like a leggy air-breather’s catch.

  I guess you want to know why this is happening to me.

  As I lie here upside down, and feeling more than a little inside out, I’m asking myself the very same question.

  But before I can find a proper answer, I’m being dragged out of the goal by my friends Tony the Tiger Shark and Ralph the Pilot Fish.

  “Wow!” says Tony, turning me the right way up.

  “Double wow!” says Ralph, straightening my school blazer and glancing into my mouth. He’s trying to see if my crash landing has dislodged any leftover breakfast from my teeth. Ralph is a pilot fish, and pilot fish love eating leftover food from sharks’ teeth. That might seem gross to you leggy air-breathers, but to me it’s the best way of having my teeth cleaned. At least I don’t have to do it half asleep at the mirror while my mom moans at me about the state of my bedroom.

  So why was I being spun around and thrown through the sea like a rubber-headed javelin made of shark? It’s because the sea-circus has come to town and we all went last night. It was great.

  MY TOP FOUR SEA-CIRCUS ACTS

  1. The Seahorse Riders . . . tiny krill jockeys performing epic tricks on the backs of furiously finning seahorses

  2. The Krazy Clownfishes . . . who ride around in a wobbly multicolored submarine. It falls apart every time they beep the horn. Hilarious!

  3. The beautiful Trapseas Artists . . . who swing from the roof of the circus tent on sequined, driftwood trapseases

  4. But best of all, the act we really love the most . . . are the Acrosprats!

  Tumbling across the circus ring, fin flipping and flip finning, the Acrosprats are so strong, even their scales have muscles. They climb poles, balance on one another’s dorsals, and spin one another by the tails to fly at other Acrosprats zooming in from the other side of the tent!

  They look as if they’re going to crash headfirst into the other Acrosprats in a massive smash of scales and gills! But at the last second they just manage to twist out of the way. That’s the move Ralph and Tony just tried with me, which was why I was sent flying across the playground into the goal.

  We’d all been so blown away by the Acrosprats last night that we couldn’t wait to try out some of their moves ourselves. Well, when I say all, I mean all of my friends apart from Joe the Jellyfish. He just covered his eyes with his sixteen tentacles and bottom-popped with anxiety. He bottom-pops with anxiety a lot because he spends most of his time more scared than an octopus in a piranha school. (For those of you who don’t know, piranhas are the bite-iest, nibbliest fish in the ocean.)

  Luckily no one was trying the same trick from the other direction. I wouldn’t have had a chance of getting out of the way-I was too busy trying not to be sick from all those somersaults.

  So when this next thing happens . . .

  Flub-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-e-r!!!!!!

  It really doesn’t help at all.

  “Howdy, ice-pick face!”

  It’s Rick Reef, my reef-shark enemy and the school bully. He’s finned up behind me and whacks one end of my hammer with his tail. My hammer head vibrates like a ruler twanged on the edge of a school desk.

  It takes a while for my head to clear because flubbering rattles my googly eyes around like socks in a clothes dryer. When I finally get my vision back to normal, Rick is showing off to everyone around me. He’s holding a clamshell notebook and showing all the watergraphs he got backstage at the sea-circus last night!

  Every single Acrosprat has signed the book!

  “But I didn’t just get their watergraphs!” Rick says smugly. “The Acrosprats gave me a couple of tumbling lessons too-look!”

  Rick throws the notebook to Donny Dogfish, his dumb-as-a-shark’s-rear-end sidekick. Then he takes off, zooming into the currents above our heads. The zippers on his black leather jacket glint in the greeny sea-light.

  Once Rick’s high above us, he starts doing forward nose-rolls, and twists into a crazy tail-flick-flack. It looks as if he’s tying himself into a knot but then he comes out the other side, sliding into five dorsal-jumps and an awesome snapper-shank. His grin is so big, we can see all his teeth, and he flings his fins wide open.

  The kids and squids watching go crazy clapping and cheering.

  I nudge Ralph and Tony. “Quick! Swing me around! Make me go higher and farther than last time. Rick’s not the only one who can do acrospratics!”

  “But . . . ,” says Ralph.

  I flap my tail over his mouth. “Now!” I bark.

  Ralph and Tony look at each other and shrug. Then they grab the end of my tail and swing me around as hard and as fast as they can.

  I hear Rick and Donny laughing as I spin around and around. But I don’t care. This’ll show everyone that Rick isn’t the only one who can bust some moves!

  Except . . .

  Joe bottom-pops the biggest pop I’ve ever heard. Ralph and Tony start choking and coughing.

  “Awwwwwwwwwww, Joe! That smells worse than a rotting fish head stuck inside a walrus’s armpit!” Tony yells. He and Ralph are coughing so hard they let go of me.

  They let go of me too soon and . . .

  “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!”

  I’m flying backward against the current. I’m twisting like an eel plugged into a light socket. I’m crashing face-first into Rick!!!!!!

  Rick and I tumble end over tail.

  My fins are in a tangle.

  My mouth is full of Rick’s jacket.

  I can feel my teeth ripping into it, tearing a gaping hole in the side!

  When we finally skid to a halt against one of the playground garbage cans, I have a mouthful of leather and a zipper is hanging off the end of my hammer. There’s also a Rick-shaped volcano about to explode.

  “Sowwwwy.” (That’s me trying to say “Sorry” but all I manage to do is spit leather and a couple of teeth at him.)

  Volcano Rick erupts. And goes straight for my head, again and again and again.

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  “You goofball!”

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  “That’s my best jacket!!!”

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  “I’m going to flubber you from here into the middle of next week!!!!”

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  And he does.

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  Well . . .

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  It’s more like the middle of next month.

  Fllllllluuuuuuuubbbbbbeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  I manage to make it through the rest of the school day with Rick only throwing evil stares at me, but I bet he’d rather be throwing desks and chairs.

  I keep my mouth shut and take it, counting down the seconds till school’s over.r />
  When I finally get home I swim straight up to my room and throw myself on my seabed.

  I’m mad.

  Really mad.

  As usual, Humphrey my humming-fish alarm clock and Larry my lantern-fish lamp are no help at all.

  “Awwww look at his little face,” says Humphrey.

  “Sadder than a swordfish gone blunt,” says Larry.

  “More miserable than a crab who can’t walk sideways,” says Humphrey.

  I ignore them and take out my journal and begin to write.

  A LIST OF ALL THE REASONS I HATE RICK REEF

  1. He’s a flippering show-off!!!!

  2. He’s always trying to do things better than me!!!

  3. He makes me look fin-diculous in front of girls!!!

  4. He keeps FLUBBERING my flippering HAMMER!!!

  5. I WISH I’D NEVER MET HIM!!!

  6. I WISH HE’D MOVE AWAY FROM SHARK POINT TONIGHT.

  7. He totally ruined my circus act!

  But writing the list just makes me more miserable. I seriously wish the ocean floor would open up right now and swallow me whole!!!!!

  “Oh, Harry-Warry!!!!”

  Great. Now Mom’s calling me. I ignore her.

  “Harry-Warry! You might want to come downstairs.”

  No, I really might not. I might want to sit up here and sulk.

  “Have you seen the time Harry-Warry?”

  Humphrey shows me his clock face.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s time for Mike Hammerhead, Shark Detective!” Mom calls.

  MIKE HAMMERHEAD, SHARK DETECTIVE!!!!

  My favorite program on telefishion! My number one hero-after Gregor the Gnasher!

  I immediately forget my sulk and leap from my seabed. I rush past Humphrey and Larry, sending them spinning away in my wake, and I zoom downstairs as fast as my fins will carry me.

  “On the mean seas, you have to be meaner than mean,” Mike Hammerhead booms from the telefishion.

  I crunch down on a finful of wet-roasted seanuts in the meanest way possible. Dad snorts.

  Mike Hammerhead pulls up the collar on his coat. “If you stop swimming, the bad guys will only swim faster.”

  I chew faster. Dad sighs as he flicks through pages on his octopiPad looking for pictures of himself. He’s Mayor of Shark Point and loves being in the news. Sadly, he doesn’t love Mike Hammerhead, Shark Detective.

  I think it’s The. Best. Most. Exciting. And. Greatest. Show. Ever!!! And Mike Hammerhead’s a hammerhead. Double win!

  But Dad just thinks it’s awful.

  “I knew the statue of the Maltese Parrot Fish was a fake all along,” Mike Hammerhead says as he swims into some spooky-looking docks. “And I knew how to prove it. But now someone’s trying to silence me for keeps. The Lobster Mobsters are gonna send me to the surface in a concrete lobster pot!”

  “I wish they would, you ridiculous excuse for a hammerhead!” Dad huffs.

  “Dad! I’m trying to watch this!”

  But Dad’s not listening. “I don’t know why you bother with this show, Harry.” He keeps flicking on his octopiPAD. “If Mike Hammerhead was a real detective he wouldn’t be able to detect what was stuck down the back of the fridge, let alone find the Maltese Parrot Fish!”

  I almost choke on a finful of seanuts. “Dad, I can’t hear what he’s saying!”

  On the screen, three mega-mean lobsters with steel-tipped claws are backing Mike Hammerhead into a corner.

  “You’ve been sticking your hammer where it’s not wanted!” the head lobster drawls.

  “Well, it’s certainly not wanted around here!”

  “Dad!”

  I chew even faster as the mega-mean lobsters threaten Mike Hammerhead with their razor-sharp claws.

  Mike Hammerhead reaches into his pocket. “No one tells me where to stick my hammer!” he yells as he pulls his Seaberry smartphone from his pocket. He flicks on the camera and it flashes bright white light in the lobsters’ eyes!

  The lobsters groan and writhe, trying to cover their eye-stalks with the claws that only moments before were going to chop Mike into shark sushi!

  Mike slips from their grasp, pulls a huge fishing net from a nearby boat, and throws it over them!

  As the lobsters yell and tangle themselves up in the net, Mike calls the police on his phone, telling them that the bad guys have been caught. Then he looks straight at the camera and delivers his famous catchphrase. “Sometimes justice is left to just us.”

  Great!

  I look at Dad. His eyes are shiny with excitement. He does like Mike Hammerhead-he just doesn’t want to admit it! I’m about to say something when he notices me looking at him. He buries his nose back in his octopiPAD with a harrumph.

  Classic!

  Back in my room I float onto my bed, imagining how cool it must be to be a shark detective . . . catching criminals, getting into danger and finding missing treasure. I reckon I’d make a great detective when I grow up. Or some kind of cool secret agent. And that’s something Rick could never do. He’s nowhere near smart enough.

  I reach out a fin for my diary to add He’s so dumb to my list of reasons why I hate Rick. But the space on top of my bedside crabinet is empty.

  I look up. The journal isn’t there!

  I look down. The journal isn’t there!

  I look under my seabed. The journal isn’t there!

  “There must have been an intruder!” I imagine Mike Hammerhead saying.

  I leap into action.

  “Humphrey!” I shout, pulling Larry off the shelf where he’d been sleeping. I press his nose to turn on his light. Humphrey swims down off the wall where he’d been ticking quietly, reading a comic. “What’s up?” he says, looking confused. “It’s not time to set your alarm, is it?”

  I swing Larry around by the tail, pointing him right in Humphrey’s face. I saw Mike Hammerhead doing this with a suspect last week. It was a great interrogation technique. Humphrey’s face lights up and his eyes go all squinty. “Who’s been in this room?” I ask.

  “Me,” Humphrey says.

  I sigh. “Who else?”

  “You.”

  I squeeze Larry’s tail and his light becomes brighter. I repeat something Mike Hammerhead said last week when he was interviewing a prime suspect. “Don’t play Sally Silent with me, you stoolie.”

  Humphrey looks confused. “Can you say that again in Fin-glish? I have no idea what you’re talking about. . . .”

  I feel Larry shaking with laughter in my fin. I turn him around to give him a menacing stare . . . and I’m blinded by his light!

  I let Larry go so that I can rub my eyes. He swims around, giggling and high-finning Humphrey.

  When the dazzle fades and I can see the room again, I do what I should have done in the first place. I turn on my hammer-vision and almost immediately see the corner of my diary sticking over the side of the shelf where Larry had been sitting.

  “You did this!” I yell as I swim up to the shelf and retrieve the diary. I see right away that it’s open where I’d made my list about Rick-and I also see that Humphrey and Larry have been writing something against every entry! LOOK!!!!

  A LIST OF ALL THE REASONS I HATE RICK REEF

  1. He’s a flippering show-off!!!! (Oh, you never try to show off, do you? Not!)

  2. He’s always trying to do things better than me!!! (And you never try to do things better than Rick, do you? Not!)

  3. He makes me look fin-diculous in front of girls!!! (Well to be fair, you’re much better at that than Rick is.)

  4. He keeps FLUBBERING my flippering HAMMER!!! (And so do you. Especially when you crash into things, trying to do number 1 and number 2 on your list. Hahahaha!)

  5. I WISH I’D NEVER MET HIM!!! (Well if you’d never met him, who would you make silly lists about?!!!!)

  6. I WISH HE’D MOVE AWAY FROM SHARK POINT TONIGHT. ( We agree with you there ! )

  7. He totally ruined my circus act! (Didn’t you do
that all on your own?)

  Humphrey and Larry clutch their stomachs with their fins as they float around laughing.

  Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

  “I’m going to bed !!!” I shout. I pull the seaweed covers over my hammer and stuff my fins into my ears to shut out their laughter.

  “Mmmahamhamahammmamamamahhhhh.”

  “What?”

  “Mmmahamhamahammmamamamahhhhh.”

  “What?” I wriggle around and look at my friend Tony the Tiger Shark.

  “I said, can you get your tail out of my mouth!?!?” he splutters.

  “Oh right.” I push down on his shoulder. “Okay, flip me over!”

  Tony flips me. I fly, twist, crash into Ralph, and bounce into Joe, who pops from one end and burps from the other. “Ouch!” he yelps. “Jellyfish are not good at being squished!”

  We’ve been trying some more Acrosprat moves on the way to school today, and I’m determined that Rick isn’t going to get all the attention this time. If I get enough practice in, everyone will be cheering me.

  “Come on, then!” I shout at the others.

  But Tony is rubbing his fin and Ralph is rubbing his head and neither of them look happy.

  “Give it a rest, Harry,” says Ralph. “I’m fed up with my head being a landing pad for your acrospratics!”

  Tony, Ralph, and the ever-popping Joe swim on toward school. I follow behind feeling even worse than I did yesterday.

  When we get to school there’s a buzzing crowd of kids around the gate. Our teacher, Mrs. Shelby, is there too, which is really weird. Normally she’d already be in class. Mrs. Shelby bangs a ship’s nail on her shell and all the kids fall silent.

  We swim up, wafting our fins as quietly as we can. I keep half an eye out for Rick just in case he somersaults over the crowd doing three perfect fin-bombs to land perfectly on my hammer and flubber me.

  “Children, please listen carefully,” Mrs. Shelby says. “You may have noticed that Rick Reef isn’t in the playground this morning. I’m afraid he won’t be in school at all today.”