My Big Fat Zombie Goldfish by Mo O’Hara Page A

will be doing experiments on the effects of pollution on marine populations. Students will show photos of their experiments to the class tomorrow.” She looked at Mark. “OK, if it’s homework,” she said as she headed down the stairs. “At least you’re doing something green.”
    Mark put on his white scientist coat and took out his chemistry set. As he unpacked the box, I got that crawly-millipede feeling in my stomach again. Mark should have done one of those “Mwahaha!” EVIL SCIENTIST laughs at that point, but I guess he was still learning the ropes.
    Mom shouted up from downstairs, “Mark, look after your brother while I run to the store. I’ll be back soon.” I heard the door close and looked over at Mark.

    Normally, as soon as Mom left, Mark would start acting mostly evil to me. Like when he caught me reading his mint-condition Return of the Attack of the Undead Zombie comic. He wrapped me in beach towels and wedged me in the dog flap till the neighbors complained about my shouting and Mom had to come home from work to un-wedge me. Oh, the good old mostly evil days. But now that he was an actual EVIL SCIENTIST , he was too busy to think of things to squeeze me into or trap me under. There was definitely less torture, but more shouting.
    â€œTouch nothing, moron,” Mark growled at me as he went out to the hall closet.
    He came back with the old goldfish bowl, filled it in the bathroom sink, and dumped the fish inside. I pressed my face up against the glass. This goldfish was fatter than the ones from the fair. It had big bulging eyes and a long wavy tail with three fins. It kind of looked like a really ugly bug-eyed mermaid, if you squinted enough. Then, as I squinted at the fish, it squinted back. Mark was too busy reading the back of a jar from his chemistry set to notice. The fish swam up to the side of the bowl and peered at me through the glass, its little mouth opening and closing. I know it sounds crazy, but I swear it looked like the fish was saying, “Help me.”

    Mark unscrewed the lid of the jar. My millipede feeling got worse. He took out some test tubes and mixed up a bottle of a truly evil-looking green mixture.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I asked.
    â€œPolluting,” he grunted, and tipped some of the green stuff into the water with the fish.
    â€œStop! It could hurt the fish!” I shouted, and tried to grab the bottle.
    Mark shoved me back on the carpet with one hand while he added some brown powder and gray flakes to the fishbowl. I tried to get up, but he held me firm by pushing his size-7 sneakers down on my chest. He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the fish swimming around in the gunky water.
    â€œWhat will … it do to … the fish?” I gasped with the last bit of air left in my lungs.
    â€œDunno,” he said. “That’s the experiment.” He laughed an absolutely perfect EVIL SCIENTIST laugh. Man, he was a fast learner. Then he put his phone back in his pocket. “I’ll come back later to take another picture, and then I can flush it.” Mark lifted his foot off my shirt and I sucked in a lungful of air.

    â€œFlush what?” I spluttered.
    â€œDuh, the fish.” He put his earphones in again and headed back down the stairs, shouting back, “Remember, touch nothing, moron. Got it?”
    â€œGot it,” I said. But I totally didn’t get it. I stood up and tried to rub off the footprint Mark had left on my T-shirt. Then I glanced over at the fishbowl. It didn’t look good. The fish was squirming in the bowl and sucking in gulps of mucky water. Then it swam up to the glass again.
    I stared through the cloudy green water, right into the fish’s big bulging eyes, and did the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my short life.
    I touched it.

 

    Â 
    I did more than touch it. I reached into the bowl and scooped it up with my fingers and