Page 11 of Never Ever After

Its mouth parts wider. “Oh, I’m certain you still do. But I’ve told you the truth: I’ll die if taken forcibly from these waters.”

The gravity in its manner chips away at my suspicion. Yet the carp has a silver tongue; I shouldn’t give it a chance to persuade me.

“Why are you sad?” it asks.

“Because of life. A boy.” I don’t know why I’m replying, but it untangles the tightness inside me. It’s been a long time since I’ve really talked to anyone. As a fortune teller, even a false one, any conversation centers on the customers: their problems, their worries. As for Songmin… we never talked much. I flush at the memory, crumpling it away like discarded paper.

“Ah,” the fish says sagely. “You were crying when we met too. Does this boy make you cry often?”

I glare, irked by its observation. “What do you know about such matters?”

“Nothing whatsoever,” the carp replies. “But if anyone brings you such misery, cut them loose. Find your people, those who fill your heart rather than take from it.”

Its words burrow into me. My mind shifts from Songmin to Mistress Henglan, to the thought of leaving for good. There is no one I will miss here.

“You are right.” As I step closer to the pond, the carp glides toward me, its tail undulating like a ribbon. “Will you really die if taken from here?” I ask, wishing I didn’t care.

“I never lie,” it replies gravely. “Do you still want to eat or catch me?”

The carp has almost reached the bank. It would be so easy to plunge my hands into the water to pull it out and wrestle it down—to spear it with a sharpened stick. “Who wants to eat you?” I protest shamelessly. “You probably don’t taste good.”

“I taste exceedingly vile,” it assures me.

Laughter bursts from me. I quell it, hardening myself. “How did you end up here?” I should keep the carp talking to lower its guard… though I’m no longer certain what to do.

“I chose this place.” It adds with disdain, “It wasn’t much to look at before, weed infested, with muddied waters.”

“Why come here, then?” With the magic the creature claims to have, it should have chosen somewhere else—anywhere else.

It doesn’t reply right away, studying me, its eyes shining with knowing. “I was looking for you.”

I would laugh again, except its claim makes me a little angry. It reminds me of the wild hopes I used to clutch at, that someone would rescue me from the nightmare my life had become, of the times I cried myself to sleep with a fist over my mouth to avoid waking Mistress Henglan.

“No one helps girls like me,” I say flatly. “We help ourselves.”

Its fins droop as though saddened. “You think no one cares for you, that you are alone in the world,” it remarks with uncanny insight. “You are not.”

Something sparks within, an inconvenient reluctance to hurt the creature, the flicker of conscience I tried to bury. This is why I shouldn’t let myself think, why I can’t soften, why I shouldn’t befriend my prey.

“What makes you think you know me?” I speak rudely, grasping for a barrier to drag between us.

“Your ring.”

Its tail flicks a spray of water at me, but I don’t feel it, staring at my finger. No one else asks about my ring, no one seems to notice. When the fish stared at my hands the first time, I thought it was looking at the stick.

“This ring?” I hold up my left hand. “I bought it in the market.” A lie to snare a liar.

“No,” the carp replies with unwavering certainty, its eyes blazing brighter. “You’ve always had it, except you don’t know what it is—just that it makes you feel better and that you don’t ever want to take it off.”

My knees buckle as I sink down to the bank, afraid, yet desperate to learn more. “How do you know?”

“Will you trust me?” the carp asks.

And maybe I’m a fool, but I nod. I’m not lying to the fish anymore. Not just because it knows things about me that no one else does… but this desire to trust it comes from a place deep inside, the instinct I’ve always leaned on when all else fails.

“Then we are friends,” it tells me firmly.

After my uncle’s death, my few friends fell out of my life. Maybe it was because I no longer had time for play, or maybe they feared misfortune was catching. “I would like that,” I find myself saying. “What do I call you?”