Goldfish from Beyond the Grave #4 - Couverture souple

Chapter One
 

“Three . . . Two . . . One . . . Go!”
 
Joe shot away from the side of the swimming pool, like a great white shark on the attack. He swam away from the deep end—his arms cutting through the water—pausing just for a second to glance back. “Come on, Matt, what are you waiting for?”
 
His best friend’s head bobbed up next to him. “What are you waiting for, you mean?” And he hurtled past Joe, kicking water in his face.
 
Joe spit out a mouthful and raced after him.
 
“I’m on your tail,” he yelled. He dodged past two old ladies swimming laps, and a couple of smaller kids practicing the breaststroke. But Matt was already halfway down the pool. Joe stuck his face in the water and raced on. He was gaining on Matt now, with just a few yards to go . . .
 
But then something wobbled out in front of him. Joe collided with a small girl in water wings who was doing the backstroke.
 
“Be careful over there!” shouted the lifeguard from the other side of the pool.
 
“Sorry,” muttered Joe. He could see Matt already in the shallow end, laughing and punching the air. He’d won!
 
Joe groaned and swam over.
 
“What took you so long?” said Matt, grinning.
 
“Very funny!” said Joe. He gave a mischievous smile. “Actually, Matt, I forgot to tell you, the race was two pool lengths—not one!”
 
“What?”
 
“See ya!” Joe launched into the water and powered back toward the deep end.
 
“Hey!” Matt began to chase after him, but the swimming ladies were in his way. He dodged them, and then got tangled up with Joe’s dad and Toby, Joe’s little brother, who was practicing underwater turns.
 
“Sorry, Mr. Edmunds!” Matt called as he splashed past them. But Joe had already reached the other end of the pool. He was hauling himself up onto the side by the time Matt arrived.
 
“Loser!” Joe smirked.
 
“That was such a lame trick!” Matt climbed out of the water next to Joe. They sat, watching the swimmers and swinging their feet in the water.
 
“Hey, guess what?” Matt said. “My cousin’s fish have gone cannibal!”
 
“What?”
 
“You know Dan, my older cousin? Well, one of his goldfish has been eaten by another fish.”
 
“No way!”
 
“One day it was swimming around in the tank with the others, the next it was gone. Swallowed whole . . .”
 
“Gross!”
 
“Dan’s crushed. Fizz—the one that got eaten—was his first goldfish. He’d had him since he was little.”
 
“What kind of fish are the other ones? Piranhas or something?” asked Joe.
 
“Nope, there’s one guppy, but apart from that, they’re just goldfish!”
 
“Killer goldfish!” Joe grinned.
 
He was just about to slip back into the water when he saw something dart past his toes. “Hey, what was that?”
 
“Mmm?” said Matt.
 
Joe scanned the water. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think I just saw a fish . . .”
 
“Yeah, that sounds crazy!” Matt gave Joe a shove, and he splashed back into the water, pretending to sink like a stone. Then he bounced off the bottom and shot back up, grabbing Matt’s ankles and pulling him into the water, too.
 
“Race you!” Joe shouted, pushing off and zooming down the pool.
 
Matt gave chase, but Joe was ahead . . . until Toby decided he wanted to join in.
 
“Hey, Joe,” he called, paddling over and grabbing his big brother’s arm.
 
“Watch it!” yelled Joe.
 
“I win!” Matt called as he hurtled past him.
 
“Thanks a lot!” Joe glared at his little brother.
 
Toby bit his lip. “Sorry, I just wanted to play.”
 
Dad called over to them, “Time to get out now, boys.”
 
“Five more minutes?” begged Joe.
 
“You can stay in for two more minutes,” said Dad. “Come on, Toby, shower time.”
 
“No!” Toby wailed. “That’s not fair!”
 
“Hey, Matt!” Joe shouted. “One last race?”
 
“Sure! First one back to the deep end . . .” And he raced off.
 
But just as Joe was about to swim after him, he spotted something streaking through the water. Then he felt something cold and slimy.
 
Joe peered down. It was a fish—a slightly green goldfish! And it had suckered itself onto his toe.
 
“Get off!” Joe yelped, trying to flick it away. But the fish held tight. Joe dunked his head into the water and grabbed his foot with both hands, but just as he went to pull the fish away, it let go.
 
“Hello, Joe,” it said, a stream of green bubbles popping out of its mouth. “I’ve been looking for you.”
 
Joe swallowed a mouthful of water in shock. Coughing and spluttering, he bobbed up to the surface. The fish followed, floating next to him.
 
“Going somewhere?” it said sarcastically.
 
Joe looked at its single googly eye and its slimy gills and groaned. It was an undead pet—another zombie creature who needed his help. Ever since Uncle Charlie had given Joe a magical Egyptian amulet, there had been a series of undead animals turning up on his doorstep, unable to pass over to the afterlife until he’d helped them solve their problems.
 
The fish fixed Joe with a dead-eyed stare. “Listen to me,” it said in a raspy voice. “I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse. Help me, or else there’ll be trouble!”
 
“Who do you think you are?” spluttered Joe. “You can’t order me around like that!”
 
The fish didn’t blink. “Don’t mess with me, or you’ll regret it.”
 
 
 
Chapter 2
 
 
Joe couldn’t help laughing. Here he was, being bullied by a small goldfish—a small, undead goldfish! It was absurd.
 
“My name is Fizz,” said the fish.
 
Joe gasped. “What? You’re not Dan’s dead fish, are you?”
 
“Yeah, and I want you to find out who killed me.”
 
“But that’s easy—another fish did. It ate you!”
 
Fizz puffed up like a balloon. “That’s ridiculous!”
 
“It’s true! Matt just told me.” Right then, Joe heard a shout from the other end of the pool.
 
“What happened to you?” Matt called. “We were supposed to be racing!”
 
“I . . . uh . . . got a cramp in my leg . . . ,” Joe yelled back. He pretended to rub his calf muscle. “Look,” he hissed to Fizz. “You’re dead because the other fish decided to have you for breakfast. Now please, leave me alone.” He waved to Matt. “Come on, we’d better get changed.”
 
“You can swim, but you can’t hide,” growled Fizz. “If you won’t help me, I’ll feed you to the fishes!”
 
“What?” Joe rolled his eyes. “You’re just a goldfish! What can you do?”
 
But the fish didn’t reply. It turned and swam off, vanishing into the deep end.
 
 
***
 
 
“How’s the cramp?” asked Matt as they headed for the locker room.
 
“Oh, um . . . better, thanks.”
 
“I bet it was just an excuse,” said Matt.
 
“What?” Joe felt his cheeks turn red. Surely Matt hadn’t heard him talking to the goldfish?
 
“Yeah.” Matt grinned. “Because you knew I was about to beat you—again!”
 
Joe breathed a sigh of relief.
 
“At last!” said Joe’s dad, who was sitting on the wooden benches in the locker room, rubbing Toby’s hair dry with a towel. “Mom will be wondering where we are!”
 
“Sorry,” Joe said. He walked over to his locker and grabbed his towel. Then he and Matt headed for the showers.
 
“Hey, Joe, what are you doing tomorrow?” asked Matt. “It’s my uncle Frank’s birthday, and he’s having a barbecue.”
 
Joe groaned inside. He knew exactly where this conversation was going. Matt hated family parties because he always got stuck playing with his younger cousins Lolly and Lily. He probably wanted Joe to go along with him, to share the awfulness.
 
“I was wondering if you felt like coming,” said Matt.
 
“Um . . . I’m not sure,” Joe turned on his shower, hoping Matt would drop the subject.
 
“It’ll be fun,” Matt continued. “Dan’s got some amazing video games.”
 
Joe made a face. As if Dan would let them play with his stuff! He was sixteen. “Well, I’m not sure what we’re doing tomorrow . . .”
 
“You’re not doing anything, Joe!” called Dad from the changing rooms. “Except cleaning your bedroom! A barbecue sounds much more fun!”
 
Joe made a face. Dad wasn’t helping. “But I haven’t finished my homework.”
 
“What homework?” said Matt. “We don’t have any.”
 
“No offense, Matt,” said Joe, “but I’m not really crazy about your family parties . . .”
 
“I’ll let you borrow any of my Xbox games,” begged Matt.
 
“No!”
 
“How about my new soccer game? You can have it for a whole week!”
 
Joe was about to say he wasn’t interested even if he got a game for a month, when there was a choking sound and the water stopped. Joe peered up and gave the shower a thump . . .
 
POP! The water burst out, along with a small, slimy blob that landed on Joe’s face.
 
“Hello, Joe,” growled Fizz. “I’m back!”
 
“Argh!” Joe flicked the fish out of his face. It landed with a splat on the tiled floor.
 
“Are you ready to help me now?” the fish said, flapping around Joe’s toes.
 
Joe tried to ignore the horrible, slimy feeling of the undead fish on his feet.
 
“I want you to go to Dan’s house and find out who killed me. Or else . . .”
 
Or else what? thought Joe.
 
At that moment, Fizz shot off down the drain. Joe heard an echoing cry rise up from the pipes below: “Don’t let me down!”
 
Matt turned off the shower and grabbed his towel. “So, the barbecue starts at noon. We could pick you up on the way?”
 
“I’m not sure . . . ,” muttered Joe. He turned off his shower and followed Matt back to the lockers. Dad was already zipping up his swimming bag.
 
“What’s the matter, Joe?” said Dad. “You should be jumping at the chance to go to a party.”
 
Joe didn’t answer. He pulled his clothes out of the locker and started to get dressed.
 
“I wish someone would invite me to a barbecue,” Dad said with a sigh. “That sounds much more fun than fixing the leaky bathroom faucet, which is what I’ve got to look forward to!”
 
“Yeah,” muttered Joe. “Lucky me!”
 
 
***
 
 
They were late to pick up Mom. By the time they’d dropped off Matt, she was standing outside the salon where she worked, waiting for them.
 
“Did you have a good time at the pool?” she asked as she climbed into the car.
 
“Yeah, it was great!” Toby beamed. “I swam underwater!”
 
“That’s amazing! And what about you, Joe?”
 
“Oh, yeah, it was a lot of fun,” he said unenthusiastically. The truth was, he had been having fun—until the crazy zombie fish had showed up and ruined things!
 
“Joe’s been invited to Matt’s family barbecue tomorrow,” said Dad as they drove to the supermarket.
 
“That’s nice!”
 
“I’m not going,” said Joe. “I’d just get stuck playing with Lolly and Lily and all Matt’s other cousins. The last thing I want to do is spend my afternoon babysitting.”
 
“Well, a barbecue might be fun,” said Mom. “Matt’s family usually throws great parties.”
 
Joe scowled at the back of his mom’s head.
 
“Can I push the shopping cart?” Toby asked as they pulled in to the supermarket parking lot.
 
“No!” Mom and Dad said together. Toby treated shopping carts like scooters!
 
“Can I wait in the car?” asked Joe.
 
“No!” they both answered again.
 
“Remember that time when you were messing around with the emergency brake,” said Dad, “and the car started to roll downhill . . . ?”
 
Joe groaned. “Dad! I was six then!”
 
“Hey!” said Toby. “I’m six!”
 
But Mom was already opening Joe’s door. “Come on—I only need a few things.”
 
You always say that, thought Joe. But as he followed them into the store, he cheered up. At least Fizz couldn’t follow him in here. There was no water for a fish to swim in.
 
“Can you fetch me a jar of pickled onions, Joe?” Mom asked.
 
He walked through the supermarket, looking for the right aisle . . . Finally he found them. He was just about to grab a jar, when something moved inside it.
 
A beady eye looked out at him. Fizz!
 
“Hello, Joe!”
 
He jumped. Fizz was wedged into the jar, glaring out at him.
 
“Go away!” Joe said, looking around to make sure no one had noticed him talking. But Fizz didn’t go away. He began to flip wildly around in the jar, back and forth, faster and faster. The jar started to wobble.
 
“Stop that!”
 
But Fizz just did it more.
 
“I warned you!” growled Fizz. “But you wouldn’t listen.”
 
“Watch it!” cried Joe.
 
Suddenly . . . SMASH! The jar tumbled right off the shelf.
 
“No!” Joe gasped. He looked up to see the other shoppers in the aisle giving him stern looks and shaking their heads.
 
“Fizz?” Joe glanced down to see if the fish was floundering around among the pieces of broken glass on the floor. But he’d vanished.
 
“What’s going on?” said a grumpy voice. A grocery stocker, pushing a cart piled high with cans of soup, had appeared next to Joe.
 
“I’m sorry—I was just getting a jar of pickled onions for my mom, when it slipped through my fingers.” He looked at his feet, his cheeks burning.
 
“Oh,” said the woman frostily. “Well, these things happen, I suppose. I’ll get a dustpan and a broom. Don’t touch the glass!”
 
As she stomped off, Joe spotted another jar wobbling, farther along the shelf.
 
“I’m still here!” rasped Fizz, peering out of it. “Are you ready to help find my killer now?”
 
“I know who killed you!” said Joe crossly. “It was a bunch of goldfish in your tank—and to be honest, I don’t blame them!” He picked up the jar so Fizz couldn’t make it fall off the shelf, but when he looked inside, Fizz was gone.
 
“Over here, Joe!”
 
He spun around and spotted Fizz swishing around inside a bottle of cooking oil on the other side of the aisle. As Joe watched, the bottle began to wobble.
 
“No!” Joe yelped. He...