Positive Side Down

There was a little girl, Bonnie, six, blonde in a pale blue dress, eating with her family on the grass at the nearby harbor. They were grilling, they had salads and fruits and Bonnie was allowed to have decaffeinated soda. She liked Sprite but one day she would have a Coke like her daddy.

She had her scooter with her, and she was using it on the sidewalk by her family's afternoon claim. "Don't go too fast." "Come and finish your food." "Stay where we can see you, OK, sweetie?" These were all things that were said to her. But she wanted to play.

Bonnie decided she would go under that bridge over there. She knew her parents wouldn't be able to see her, so she waited until they were preoccupied, backs turned. If she got there fast enough she could explore for a few minutes before anyone realized she was gone.

She took off.

The bridge crossed over that part of the water where the lake turns into the harbor, she didn't know what it was called. But underneath this bridge it was colder. You couldn't see many of the pretty boats. You couldn't see many of the families enjoying the day. There were cigarette butts, and trash, and stains on the sidewalk. There were small, grey, dead fish. And there were a lot of them.

Bonnie rested her scooter against the railing, one big enough to keep people from falling in but not so big that they couldn't jump over. One fish caught her eye, and she walked up to it. It was only a few inches long, and rested next to an old AA battery. She got on her knees, propped herself up with one hand, and slowly reached out with the other. She poked the fish. Nothing. Her grandparents and pets were all alive and she had no real comprehension of death. She poked it again. Nothing. She decided she would pick up the fish, and she did. She stood, the drying dead thing between her finger and thumb. Then she reached down and picked up the battery. She squeezed the fish, just a little, just enough for its mouth to open wider. She held the battery over its mouth, positive side down, and shoved it inside.

Her parents didn't believe her when she said the fish blinked, that it started flapping around right there in the palm of her hand. They didn't believe when she threw the reincarnated fish in the water that it swam away. They were too upset that not only had she disobeyed them and gone out of sight, alone, without asking, but that she was playing with dead animals and garbage, in something of an almost sinister way. But Bonnie had seen these things. And she couldn't understand why her mommy and daddy were acting like this. She couldn't understand why telling them what happened wasn't enough.