Fishin' Read online

  Rick frowns. “Hmm. If it’s that easy how come the dolphins haven’t gotten over the wall and swam away?”

  “Dolphins love doing tricks. You’ve seen them at Shark Point always showing off. Maybe if they get a chance to do tricks all day they take it. They probably love leggy air-breathers too. They’re crazy like that.”

  “Yeah, right,” Rick snorts. “They love being kept prisoner here. They love the leggy air-breathers staring at them all the time.”

  “Well, that’s what happens in theme parks like Sea-Planet I guess. Anyway, the dolphins aren’t our problem. We are our problem.”

  “You are my problem, you mean.”

  “All right, what’s your plan, then?” I ask him huffily.

  “I don’t have one.”

  I feel like screaming at Rick.

  “Cool it, kid. Great detectives never take out their frustrations on seavillians. No one can detect the stuff we do. Only we have hammer-vision. True, or true?”

  Okay, Mike, okay. True.

  It takes two deep gills to calm me down.

  “Sooooo, if I have a plan and you don’t, my plan has to be worth a shot, right?”

  Rick thinks and his eyes bug out while he does it. Thinking looks like it hurts him. A lot. Eventually he nods. “I guess so,” Rick says, looking like his eyes are going to slide off the side of his face.

  “See? He kinda gets it. But you had better make double sure though, kid. You don’t want this plan sliding out of his head like earwax in a hot ocean.”

  Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

  I fin-bump Rick and begin Operation Explain the Escape.

  I lead Rick around our tiny pool, past the ogling leggy air-breathers, around and around, at the same time explaining to him what we have to do.

  When I’m sure he has it, I fly up-sploooolshing out of the water for a fin-flack while Rick thwoooooshes into four nose-ends and a tail-gimbal below me.

  It’s all going really well until . . .

  Crrrrrrrrrunch!!!!

  Thud!!!

  Rick flips into me, upends me by the tail, and sends me sprawling against the glass. The leggy air-breathers laugh and point.

  I float there for a moment. Stunned.

  “Kid, kid. I reckon if you swap-”

  I know, Mike! I know!

  Once I’ve caught my breath, I swim back toward Rick. “Okay. Okay. You do the fin-flack, I’ll do the gimbal. Okay?”

  Rick nods reluctantly.

  “We have to show them we’re the greatest, Rick. We have to be the best!!!”

  This time the move is pulled off perfectly, and Rick flies up above the surface of the tank and splashes down with a perfect star-splash.

  “Great,” I shout. “Again!”

  We dive and we leap and we splash up and down. We’re all fins and tails and snappy teeth.

  Move.

  After move.

  After move!!!

  We’re the champion Acrosprats of this tank.

  I push Rick up with my hammer, he twists into the sunlight, bursting from the water, yelling like we’ve just won the Finball World Cup!

  The crowd of leggy air-breathers grows bigger and bigger, pressing their noses against the glass.

  Yes! This is exactly what I wanted!!

  “Again!” I call to Rick as I power up another twisting cartfluke and double splish-frazzle.

  Rick leaps over me in a sick triple-turning overbite, catching hold of my fin as he goes, swinging me up into a radical dorsal-slash with a totally hairy bottom-lunge. It’s like we’re really in the sea-circus!

  Faster and faster we swim and I’m desperately hoping the leggy air-breathers who run Sea-Planet will see how fantastic we are. So fantastic that they’ll no longer want us in the ridiculously tiny pool, but will want us in the main performance area!

  “It’s a longship kid, a real longship.”

  I know it’s a risk, Mike. I know. But you take risks all the time when you’re on a case, don’t you?

  “I do, kid. So go for it. I reckon you have this licked!”

  Clang!!!

  Yes. Yes!! Yesssss!!!! A huge shadow moves above us. My risky plan is working! I knew the leggy air-breathers couldn’t resist us! It’s why they caught us in the first place!

  The crane is swinging over the tank and the net is being lowered into the water. “Swim into it,” I tell Rick.

  Rick stares at me. “Are you crazy?”

  “Just do it!”

  I power into the net, hold it open for Rick and beckon him in.

  Eventually, after probably deciding that he doesn’t want to be left in the tank all alone, he swims in.

  The crane clanks and squeaks. The net is dragged up. “Hold your gill-water, Rick!” I yell as we break through the surface of the ocean.

  And then we’re out in the light holding our gills as hard as we can.

  The crane swings toward the dolphin’s pool . . .

  And we’re dropped right in.

  Ker-splash!!!!

  Ker-splash!!!!

  My plan worked!!!!

  The water here is much cleaner and fresher because it’s coming directly from the sea. Above the waves I can see the faces of all the leggy air-breathers sitting around expectantly-waiting for us to begin our show.

  “No show, kid, no show. You have a jailbreak to attend to.”

  Right on, Mike. Right on.

  “Come on, Rick, let’s get out of here!”

  I swim as fast as I can toward the sea, looking over the wall at the end of this huge pool to the Shallows. Beyond them I imagine I can see the pinky coral spires of Shark Point glittering. Our home.

  I swish my tail like never before.

  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

  I have no idea what that noise is. But it’s not going to put us off.

  I fin my fins like it’s the last time I will ever fin them.

  The water is bursting in my gills.

  My mouth is open.

  My hammer is down.

  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!!

  Nope. Nothing is going to distract us!!!

  I rush for the surface, breaking through the waves and leaping into the air. Escape, here I come!

  Whee!!!

  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmm. Click. Hisssssssssssssssss.

  Bang!!!

  Flappp!!!

  Crunch!!!

  Splash!!!

  What????? I’m back in the pool.

  How? Why?

  A second later Rick lands beside me.

  Crasssssssssshhhhhhhhhh.

  Just as winded. Just as annoyed.

  We look at each other, then up and up and up and up.

  Oh. My. Cod.

  I can’t believe my googly hammer eyes! There’s a huge clear-plastic wall reaching yards and yards into the air! It’s risen on some sort of mechanism from behind the wall I thought we were able to jump over.

  That’s what the distracting brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmm, click, hisssssssssss had been! The see-through wall coming up from below!!!!!

  “Busted. Totally busted, kid.”

  Thanks, Mike. I hadn’t noticed.

  “Well done, pick-ax brain!” Rick yells at me. “Not only have you come up with the ocean’s all-time stupidest plan, but you’ve shown the leggy air-breathers that we can do better tricks than the dolphins, so now they’re going to make us perform for them for the rest of our lives!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  I search my head for some advice from Imaginary Mike Hammerhead.

  “I have nothing, kid, you’re on your own.”

  Thanks, Imaginary Mike. That really helps!

  I swim slowly around Rick, scratching my hammer in total frustration.

  Rick floats motionless in the performance pool, nose down.

  I think I see a tear in his eye.

  Rick quickly fins it away, and any sign of weakness is gone.

  “You got us into this,” he says with a low-down snarly growl. “You get us o
ut!”

  There’s no point telling him that I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for him swimming away from home to join the sea-circus, and me finding his stupid jacket and coming to save him.

  There’s no point telling him but it doesn’t stop me thinking it.

  I widen my circle.

  Come on Imaginary Mike Hammerhead, Shark Detective, you’ve been in tighter spots than this. Help me out, here! I search my brain for ideas but all I get is:

  “……….. …………… ……………………….. ……………………………….. ……………….”

  I guess I really am on my own.

  Ping!

  What?

  Ping! Ping! Pinnnnnnnngg!!!!!

  My hammer-vision has suddenly turned itself on. Now, this only happens for a very small number of reasons.

  There’s food nearby.

  There’s danger nearby.

  That’s it.

  There’s certainly no food in the performance pool and Rick is not my idea of lunch, so it must be danger.

  I narrow my eyes. It’s time for Harry Hammer to become Harry Hammer, Shark Detective for real. No more Mr. Nice Shark.

  I scan the immediate area with my hammer-vision on maximum.

  Danger can come in many forms. I can see that only Rick and I are in the pool. So it can’t be any leggy air-breathers. It must be something else.

  I swim down, and my hammer-vision starts going crazy.

  Ping ping hiss ping ping ping!!!!!

  The pings are dragging my hammer around toward the wall of the pool. The hiss ping narrows it down. I swim over, not knowing what to expect.

  “What are you doing, kelp breath?” Rick calls to me.

  I ignore him.

  Harry Hammer, Shark Detective is on the case.

  I reach the wall and start up hammer-vision-scan-mode-ultra. The wall zooms into sharp focus.

  “In the mean performance pool,” I drawl to myself like Mike Hammerhead, “you have to pay the closest of attention. Every clue counts.”

  Yes!

  There!

  Right where the wall turns a corner to head back toward the shore, is a crack that I didn’t notice before. It’s not a big crack, but it is slowly bulging out from the weight of the water it’s holding in the pool.

  I swim closer.

  Where the tide has gone out beyond the shore, there’s no longer equal pressure from sea to hold it up. The whole thing is in danger of collapsing!

  I tap it with my hammer.

  Nothing.

  I thud it with my hammer.

  Ping ping ping hisssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!

  The crack splits a little farther up the wall. . . .

  I swim back to Rick, my heart pounding with excitement. This time I don’t hug him. But I do whisper in his ear.

  “Rick. I have another plan!”

  Minutes later we’re putting on the best show the leggy air-breathers have ever seen!! And if my new plan works, they’ll never see anything like it ever again!! Or at least they better not.

  I pull a three-sixty hammer-dart and tail-rush down to the weak spot in the wall.

  The crowd cheers and goes wild. Their excited yelling and clapping completely covers up the sound of me thumping my hammer at full speed on to the crack!

  Tssssskkkkkk! (That’s the crack, cracking open a little bit more!)

  Rick runs a shallow-half-wave-roll-flip and plunges down.

  Cheers!!! Yells!!!! Applause!!!!!!

  Thump!!!! Rick bangs the crack with his nose.

  TsssSSSSSSSSSsskkkkkk!!!!! It opens up a little more.

  I drop a totally awesome seven-tail and Acrosprat devil-dive and thump the crack with my hammer.

  TsssSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsskkkkkk!!!!!

  “Harry, it’s working!” Rick yells as we swim past each other.

  I nod my hammer. “Just continue on!”

  Rick powers out of the water, turns a ninety-degree jaw-dog, back-splashes into three-and-a-half gill-jumps, and crashes into the water in a furious-shark-dart.

  Cheers!!! Yells!!!! Applause!!!!!!

  Thump!!!!

  TsssSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsskkkkkk!!!!!

  I race a radical side-fin to the other end of the pool, turn, and just kick it!

  Just like the super-sharktastic detective secret agent I am. Right, Mike?

  I’m swimming on all muscles. Every system is go. I’m scything through the water like a speed shark. I’m heading to pull the biggest trick of my life. As I leap into the totally awesomest hammer-flick and seven-twenty-degree heart-stopper with tail-splash, I yell, “Sometimes justice is left to just us!!!!!”

  “Never a truer word spoken, kid. Go get ’em like a pro!”

  Thanks, Imaginary Mike! I couldn’t have done it without you!

  “Oh yes, you could!”

  Cheers!!! Yells!!!! Applause!!!!!!

  I dive under the water and ram my hammer into the crack.

  Thump!!!

  TsssSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsskkkkKKKKKKKK!!!!!

  Boooooooooooom!!!

  Ker-smash!!!!!!!!

  Whoooooooooooooooooooshhh!!!

  The crowd goes silent as the wall cracks open!!

  The water rushes through as the plastic is torn apart by the pressure.

  “Hold my fin, Rick!” I yell. “This is gonna be radical!!!”

  I grab hold of Rick’s fin, and he grabs mine. We’re washed out of the pool, riding a huge wave of released water straight out to where the tide is!

  “Yay!” shouts Rick.

  “We’ve done it, Rick! We’ve flippering done it!!!”

  It’s almost like we’re Acrosprats!

  We’re free. We’ve escaped! We’re back in the Shallows and now we can finally go home.

  But not before we both pull the biggest and best nose-swivel, gill-gimbal, and a totally fantastic screwball-dorsal-bump for the crowd of openmouthed, completely silent, and shocked leggy air-breathers!!!! Those finless, air-breathing wonders had no idea who they were dealing with when they messed with Rick and me. Well, mainly me.

  Fin-pump!!!!!!!

  As soon as Rick and I swim out of the Shallows and start making our way back toward the center of Shark Point, I notice something really weird.

  The roads are totally empty. Even though it’s Saturday, there are no whalebuses, tunatrucks, or taxicrabs to be seen. There are no families coming into town to do their shopping. And the shark-parks are empty, the swings bumping lazily against themselves in the currents. But the weirdest thing of all is the silence.

  The great feeling of escaping from the performance pool has been replaced by a bubbly scaredy feeling in my tummy. I know what it’s like to be Joe the Bottom-Popping Jellyfish all over again.

  Pop.

  Don’t tell anyone, okay?

  “I don’t like it,” says Rick.

  “I don’t like it either,” I say.

  We swim on.

  My street is completely deserted too. The mayor’s residence, my home, is locked up and it doesn’t matter how many times I fin on the door, it doesn’t open.

  The same happens at Rick’s house.

  This is so weird.

  I fire up my hammer-vision and crank it right up to ultra-plus.

  Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

  Hmm. It’s a tiny response. I zero in on the direction of the ping.

  Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!

  Zooming in even more, to way off into the distance, I can see something floppy and messy.

  I immediately recognize it.

  And get sick to my stomach.

  It’s my dad’s floppy, messy hair! It’s waving around in the distance, just above the buildings between us and the town square. And judging by the way his hair is flopping and waving and swirling in the currents, I’d say Dad is pretty agitated.

  But at least my hammer-vision has told me where he
is.

  “There’s my dad!” I shout to Rick, who’s still looking sadly through the windows of his house. “Let’s go!”

  We start swimming toward the town square.

  “I applaud all the citizens of Shark Point for pulling together in our time of need.

  I can hear Dad before I can see him-from three streets away.

  He has his mayoral megaphone out and his voice is booming through the water.

  “My hero was my grandfather Harrington Hammer. Let me tell you a story. . . .”

  As we swim closer I hear the murmuring of voices and as we turn the last corner, I see the reason that Shark Point seems completely deserted.

  Everyone is here! The square is full of moms, dads, kids, squids, clams, and crabs! They’re all listening intently to Dad as he makes an idiot of himself. As usual!

  Dad is strutting up and down outside the building with his megaphone clasped tightly in his fin, floppy hair waving crazily in the currents from his excited tail. Mom is floating next to him looking really concerned.

  Dad puts the megaphone back to his mouth to address the huge crowd.

  “Harry and Rick have been missing for many hours, and it is our duty to find them!” He clears his throat and gets really serious. “We shall search for them on the seas and oceans, we shall search for them with growing confidence, and growing strength in the water, we shall search for them on the beaches, we shall search for them on the spawning grounds, we shall search on the seafloor and the streets, we shall never surrender, this will be our fin-est hour!!!”

  Mom finbows him in the side.

  Dad coughs. “Yes, well, what I’m trying to say is that I want volunteer teams of our fastest and best sharks to form search parties to head out right now and search for my son, Harry, and his best friend, Rick!”

  Best friend? Dad!

  Rick says nothing but I can see he has that smirky look on his face. I float out of flubbering range just in case.

  “This is an emergency,” Dad continues, “and although there is not a moment to lose, I would just like to say that I am also reminded of my great-grandfather Harrison Hammer, who . . .”

  I have to put a stop to this. It’s more embarrassing than Mom spitting on her hanky to wipe bits of Kelp-Krispies off my lips at the school gates in front of everyone.