“I need to think about it,” Fritz said, scooping the flounder up off the deck. “But I’ll be back.”
“Oh, fine! But next time, bring a net instead!” It was the last thing the flounder said before Fritz slipped it back into the water.
Fritz had then rowed calmly back to the dock, his strokes slow and even, gaze fixed in the middle distance. He expected the encounter to fade in his mind like a dream upon waking, but it didn’t. It stayed fixed there as he tethered the boat to the dock, took his tools into the hut, and then sprinted full tilt into town.
He ran straight across the square, slipped around the butcher’s shop, and knocked furiously on the cottage door until Hans appeared. His hair was awry and his eyes half-lidded, a scowl forming.
“Oh,” Fritz said, “it’s early.”
“Did you wake me up to tell me it’s early?” Hans asked.
“N-no. No. I found something.”
He told the story quickly, not even stopping to think about why he had come straight to Hans, or why Hans was the one he was telling. Later this would haunt him, but at the time it seemed obvious, even logical. Hans was his best friend. You told your bestfriends about the strange and interesting things that happened to you, because you wanted them to share in the adventure.
Hans leaned on the doorframe and said, “You’re saying... in the lake... there’s an enchanted fish that grants wishes?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay, so prove it. Have it grant a wish.”
“Like what?”
“Likewhat?” Hans sneered. “You really don’t have any imagination, do you, Fritz? Think something up. Like... wish for the redberries to bear fruit. Except not the ones close to town—in case it’s some kind of trap, you want to keep any magic far away from where you live. Wish for the berry bushes past the river to produce.”
“You think that’ll—” Fritz began, but Hans shut the door.
Hans didn’t believe him then, but Fritz rowed right back out onto the lake—then had to turn back to quickly fix up one of his father’s old nets on a short pole—and to the inlet. Hands shaking, he lowered the net into the water. It wasn’t under the surface long enough for him to start worrying about whether the fish had been real before there was a tug against his hands and he lifted the net to find the flounder there, looking ugly and annoyed.
“I’m ready to make a wish,” Fritz said.
“I want you to promise me first that you’ll use the next wish to turn me human again,” said the flounder.
“How many wishes do I get?”
“As many as the riddles you answer correctly, at least until my magic runs out. But who knows when that will be, and let us pray it never happens.”
“Okay,” said Fritz, “I’ll use a wish to make you human again.”
“I will regret this,” replied the flounder. “Please don’t wish for anything stupid. Here is your riddle:We lap, we whisper, we crash, we roll. Our mother wind births us each differently. What are we?”
“Waves,” Fritz said, without hesitation.
The flounder sighed. Fritz felt a moment of annoyance—even a fish thought he wasn’t smart enough to answer a riddle as simple as that! “Go ahead,” said the flounder.
“I wish the redberries were ripe on the bushes again, but only on the bushes west of the Idle River Bridge.”
The flounder was completely still. Then, a second later, it flipped its tail and said, “Done. Your berries are on their bushes. Now, if you’ll wish me back—”
“I have to check first,” said Fritz. “To make sure it really happened.”
“You can’t take my word for it?”
“I won’t be long. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
The flounder began to struggle in its net. “Boy, do you have any idea how long I have—”
Fritz quickly dipped the flounder back into the water. “Back tomorrow!”
