Free Head Spinners by Thalia Kalkipsakis Page A

the bucket and began sinking. When they were about halfway down, they shook their tail ends and began to swim. Pretty amazing.
    Slowly the fish pieces swam faster and faster until they were bumping up against each other. There was so much action in the bucket that water splashed over the edge. It was hard to see what was going on. A couple of pieces jumped up and landed back in the water.
    At one point the whole bucket rocked. I held onto the rim in case it tipped over. Water frothed and bubbled and spilled onto the carpet. My hands were soaking wet.
    Suddenly the splashing stopped.
    Biting my lip, I peered inside. A single piece of trout floated in the water. It curved itself around one side of the bucket in a crescent shape. It swished its tail end peacefully.
    â€˜Oh . . . wow!’ I could hardly believe it. This fish was magic. It had to be. Somehow it was able to heal itself  . . . it was trying to become whole again.
    I leaned back against my bed with the bucket in front of me and shook my wet hands. I could see a photo of Monty on my desk. I’d left his favourite stick next to it and hung his collar on a post of my bed. In the photo, Monty was sitting with his ears pricked up. He looked really smart. Not scraggy at all.
    â€˜What do you think, Monty?’ I asked.
    I was getting a bit teary, so I peered back in the bucket. I didn’t know how it had managed to reform. But I did know one thing – this fish wanted to live.
    All through dinner I stayed quiet, wondering about the trout. Would it grow eyes and a mouth? Would it need food?
    Whatever happened, I would look after it. Then, once it was fully re-formed, I would take it to a river and let it go. It would have a new life, swimming free.
    That night I went to bed feeling better than I had in two weeks. I snuggled under the covers, listening to the faint swishing of water in the dark.
    Maybe I had messed up with Monty and let him get killed, but here was my second chance. I would do anything to help the trout live.

    The next morning I woke up early and checked the fish. Had it survived the night? Was it still alright?
    But I didn’t need to worry. My trout was more than alright. It was awesome.
    In the bucket was a normal, everyday trout. It had eyes, a mouth and a tail. A pretty pinky-orange stripe extended down its side. Its scales shimmered in the water.
    â€˜Hello,’ I said. I wasn’t surprised to see that the fish had re-formed. Not after everything else that had happened. But I was a little disappointed. Now I had to set it free in the river. It was the only right thing to do.
    â€˜Worms,’ I said to myself. I’d feed it some worms. Then I’d take it to the river in the afternoon.
    I was pulling on my shorts when the trout jumped into the air. With a flick of its tail it sprinkled water in an arc across the carpet. A few drops made it as far as my desk. The fish landed safely back in the bucket.
    I sat on my bed and hugged my knees. W h at would happen next?
    But the fish just swished in the bucket.
    Oh well. That was still a clever thing to do. And it gave me an idea. ‘Splash! That’s what I’ll call you!’ A pet needs a name. I scratched my head. ‘But are you a boy or a girl fish?’
    Splash kept swishing.
    I shrugged again. ‘Let’s just say you’re a girl for now.’ Maybe it was because Monty had been a boy – I don’t know – but I liked the idea of Splash being a girl.
    She must have been happy too because she did a single jump in the air. With a clever flick of her tail, Splash sprinkled water over the top of my desk.
    Monty’s photo! I didn’t want that getting wet. I went to move the photo out of the splash zone but my hand froze in midair.
    Beside the photo, and wet from Splash’s tricks, lay Monty’s favourite stick. Wherever a drop of water had landed, tiny leaves had sprouted. Down one end there were even a few tiny