The Best of Fish Worlds

Chapter Three

Troy thought he had known betrayal before, but nothing could compare to the pain he was feeling as he skulked around the basketball court a few hours later. He had trusted the fishman with his heart, only to have the fishman ditch him at the first opportunity, tossing him aside like beef stew that's past its expiration date.

Troy swore this could have been the start of something new, but clearly the fishman didn't feel the same way. Maybe Troy was nothing more than a pretty face, something disposable to be used and discarded.

No. Troy wouldn't be treated like this. He knew he had to give the fishman a piece of his mind. He wouldn't let the fishman do this to anybody else. Troy stormed off to the pond, festering in anguish. Troy had thought anything could happen. He had taken a chance, opened his heart to all the possibilities ahead of them, and all he asked from the fishman in return is that he would do the same. Was that really too much to ask? Now the pair would never know how perfect they could have been together.

Troy looked up the moon, its slender form full and bright in the night sky above. It was not like the sun. No, the light that cascaded from its shimmering surface lacked the warmth of its daytime counterpart. Troy shivered, longing for a companion, but all he had was the moon and its cratered visage staring coldly down at him. The moon must be lonely too, Troy realized. How long, he wondered, had it spent waiting for companionship in its planetary orbit?

Troy pondered why the moon had to be so lonesome, why it had to spend each day and night in solitude, far away from all else and all who try to reach out. It was out on its own, just like Troy had once again become. Troy felt like the moon. He reached out to it with a single trembling hand, racked with despair.

Before long, Troy had reached the edge of the pond. Earlier that day, it would have been comforting to just stand at its shore, but now... now all Troy could feel was heartbreak. He was glad he couldn't see his reflection, afraid of who he would see staring back at him.

The time had come for him to speak to the fishman. "Where are you! I have some choice words for you!" Troy cried to the empty pond in agony. "Come out here and face me, you coward!"

Just then, Troy noticed something peculiar. What was that on the other side of the pond? He crept slowly and cautiously around the perimeter to investigate. It was only when he was two feet from the anomaly that he realized what it was.

"Is this what I think it is?" Troy exclaimed. It was. The shore was lined with thousands of golf balls, all artfully arranged in the shape of a heart. The ones in the middle were pink, like the golf balls that Sharpay used. Troy felt his anger begin to dissipate, washing away like it was on spin cycle. How could he ever stay mad at such a marvelous being?

The fishman emerged from the pond, the water clinging to his supple frame, making him gleam silver in the moonlight. "Troy, do you like it?" the fishman signed. "I spent all day working on it. For you. These are all the golf balls from the bottom of my home. From the bottom of my heart."

Troy was amazed. He blushed. "Holy cannoli! There's got to be at least..." Troy paused to count the golf balls while the fishman waited patiently for him to finish. "At least seven of them!"

The fishman shook his head in amusement. "You fool," he gestured, "There are at least twelve." The fishman blushed.

Troy picked up a golf ball and examined it closely. The cratered surface was like the moon, but not as big, and since the golf balls were together, not as lonely. Troy smiled. He no longer felt like the moon. He felt like the golf balls.