Eli Albert

The Secret Goldfish

11/21/04

 

"The best one in it was "The Secret Goldfish." It was about this little kid that wouldn't let anybody look at his goldfish because he'd bought it with his own money."

 

This goldfish business was getting out of hand. It all started one winter day, when Jerry explained about his goldfish. They were in English class, during a particularly boring lecture. While the teacher was explaining the moral lessons of Hatchet, Jerry’s least favorite book in the world, he leaned over and whispered to Mark:

“I bought a goldfish.”

Jerry couldn’t recall now why he’d ever told Mark. Maybe the stench of boredom and after-gym sweat had just overpowered him, and he’d had to do something, anything. Mark looked at him with barely disguised, perhaps slightly malicious interest. While ordinarily an innocuous statement like that might’ve warranted a sneer from his classmate, these were no ordinary circumstances. Mark considered the alternatives slowly, as he was wont to do, and then turned in his chair, completely facing Jerry.

The teacher in the front of the room continued her lecture, oblivious to the loss of five percent of her class. She would go home and get ready for a date in a few hours, and didn’t much care about what the back of the room was doing.

“How much?” asked Mark. Jerry was surprised, and thought for a moment. How much?

“One hundred and sixteen cents,” said Jerry finally. Mark looked at Jerry with an expression of surprise on his face, and then pleasure.

“You were snookered!” he said, glee finally coming through in his expression. “How could you pay a dollar sixteen for a stupid goldfish?”

Jerry shrugged, and didn’t answer back. He felt slightly stupid, but didn’t attach any importance to the conversation, really. He had bigger things to worry about, like the state of his parents’ marriage. He was always afraid to bring friends home to his house, because his parents were always fighting, yelling and screaming.

“Can I see it?” Jerry snapped out of his reverie.

“What?”

“I wanna see it!” Mark repeated, swinging around again and staring Jerry down. “I wanna see the dollar sixteen goldfish.”

Jerry didn’t want Mark over. He didn’t want anyone over. He definitely didn’t want Mark to come to his house because of the goldfish. That was stupid. Jerry was saved from answering by the teacher, who finally noticed them talking and told Mark to face forward and pay attention. The bell rang, and Jerry quickly left class before Mark could ask him again.

 

            The next day Jerry went to school early because he didn’t have anything to do at home. The last thing on his mind was the goldfish when Mark, with three of his friends, came up to him. They were all at lunch. Jerry was finishing a peanut butter-jelly sandwich, and was looking forward to the candy bar he’d gotten at the store on his way to school. Mark and his friends looked happy to see Jerry alone.

            “How’s your goldfish, Jerry?”

            “Yeah, we wanna see it!”

Jerry was at a loss. The boys didn’t look as if they had any real malicious intent, but he couldn’t just deny them. He started out tentatively, so as not to enrage them:

            “Well, I really don’t want anyone to see it…”

            “Why not?” asked Mark loudly. “We wanna see the goldfish you paid more than a whole dollar for.”

            Jerry was suddenly struck with inspiration. Tiptoeing around the question wasn’t going to help anything. He had to take a harder tack. He stood up and looked Mark in the eye, hesitantly, but then with confidence.

            “No,” he said, “you can’t come and see my goldfish,” then, improvising, and anticipating Mark’s follow-up, “because I bought it with my own money.”

            Although Jerry realized the stupidity of this comment, he’d needed a reason. He expected the boys to laugh at him, but they seemed slightly impressed.

            “My own money…” Jerry repeated, trailing off as the boys wandered away. The sudden victory left him at a loss, so he sat down and ate his candy.

 

            Walking home, Jerry had again forgotten about the famous fish. His day had gone well enough, but something was amiss. He suddenly noticed Mark and the others, behind him by about half a block. They hadn’t given up after all. By the time Jerry reached his house, they were right behind. They followed him to the door, where Jerry’s mother was waiting. Before Jerry could do anything, she exclaimed with pleasure, “Are these friends you’ve brought home, dear?”

            Jerry darted inside, but his mother, misinterpreting the gesture, opened the door wide.

            “I’ll go make some cookies,” She said, and walked away, to the kitchen. Jerry backed up slowly, to the bottom of the second floor stairs, facing the boys. They advanced on him.

            “We wanna see it. Why won’t you show us, Jerry?” The tone wasn’t nice. Mark moved forward, and Jerry climbed backwards up the stairs, still facing the boys. They followed him slowly, smirking all. He stopped again near the top.

            “I don’t want you to see…,” he said in a small voice. It was a hopeless voice, and the boys knew it. Mark and another pushed past him, causing him to fall sitting onto the steps. They walked by into what was obviously his room, small enough to take in at a glance.

            “There’s no goldfish here!” said Mark suddenly, loudly. And he was right. The room held only a bed and a faded Batman poster on the wall. They turned back to Jerry all at once, but he was still sitting alone at the top of the stairs, crying.