Pepie

By Rachel Ann Michael Harris

Gently floating to the surface, Pepie’s gaze darted around the crowded shore. It was that time of year again. He smiled as he took in the boisterous throngs decked out in bright T-shirts sporting a cartoon version of his face. A large banner read “Happy Pepie Day!” beneath the picture of a long-necked creature with four fins instead of legs.

Yes, Pepie Day was here again. His day.

Pleased, he soaked in the festivities. People gathered to celebrate him, snapping pictures of the smooth, glassy surface of the lake and calling out excitedly at the slightest ripple. Twitching his tail, he considered creating a few himself. Keep them coming back next year. Farther out on the lake, boats, divers, and other devices filled the waters. Then again, it might be best to wait until after the monster hunters went ashore. He couldn’t afford to get caught. None of them could.

Still, he considered as he slipped below the surface again, the hunters would probably enjoy a little tease.

Through the murky water, Pepie sped toward the waiting boats. Ahead, a small device sent sound waves through the water. Pepie swung wide to avoid its range but snapped his tail just enough for it to register. He chuckled as he imagined the hunter trying to determine if it was Pepie or just a walleye.

He made his way to a boat anchored farther from the rest and swam up on the far side, hovering just below to listen.

The furious clickity-clack of keys tapped above. Pepie floated higher to watch the hunter work.

“Why are we out here?”

Pepie ducked.

“The sun is in my eyes,” the voice whined. “I can’t even swim. All for something that doesn’t even exist!”

Oh, an unbeliever.

“Max, not now,” a second voice huffed.

Pepie swished his fins. Max was right though. Out on the boat all day did mean the boy missed many of his festivities. But, to not believe in him at all… Where was the fun in that?

Slowly sucking in some water, Pepie waited, and when he sure the hunter was distracted, he floated up, eyeing a boy in his mid-teens lounged across the only open seat not filled with tech gear and monitors. The boy, Max, had an arm across his eyes while a handheld gaming system dangled from his hand.

The battery is probably dead, Pepie surmised. Or he just wants a Pepie burger.

Angling his mouth over the gunnels, Pepie squirted water on the boy’s head.

Max shot up, shaking like a soaked dog. “What the heck?”

Pepie ducked, his body quivering with a suppressed laugh.

“What now?” the hunter sighed.

“Look at me! Did you squirt me with one of those doohickies?”

“These ‘doohickies’ are precision devices designed to penetrate and record living organisms beneath the water. Not for playing water guns.”

After a bit more arguing, they settled again, and Pepie sucked in a little more water. As he pursed his lips to spray the boy again, Max shot up and pointed at him. The boy’s eyes widened as his locked with Pepie’s.

Pepie swallowed the lake water. Uh oh. He wasn’t supposed to be discovered. This could ruin everything.

A shout from farther out in the lake caught their attention. Had someone else seen him?

No, they were focused over… Oh no. Not there. Hunters were working furiously over a deep spot in the lake. But he’d been so careful. How had they found it?

Swaying, Pepie frantically debated what he should do. He didn’t see Max glancing between him and the hunters and was surprised when he screamed, “What is that?”

Pepie ducked.

“What?” the hunter asked.

“That.” Max pointed over Pepie’s head, across the lake toward Wisconsin, the cheese state. “It was huge and green.”

Now he’s just making stuff up.

When the hunter didn’t respond, Max glanced between the hunter and the water before taking a deep breath and jumping in. The boy floundered and waved his arms.

What is he doing?

“Hel—” Max choked on water as he slipped under the surface. He looked like he was drowning. Pepie had to admit, it was very convincing.

“Max!” The hunter leaned over the side, Pepie dodging away before he was spotted a second time. “Max, where are you?”

Pepie glanced under the water to the sinking Max. What had he said earlier? “I can’t even swim.” Was he saying he couldn’t swim, not just that he wasn’t allowed?

Pepie glided up to Max and tapped him with his nose. The boy shook his head and pointed in the direction of the hunters. The underside of a boat approached. Pepie froze. Was the boy… helping him?

With a burst of bubbles, Max clawed at the water to rise. Ducking under his feet, Pepie gave him a boost to lift Max’s head above water until he was pulled up and disappeared. Swimming a safe distance away, Pepie broke the surface, relieved that boats were gathered around Max’s and nowhere else on the lake.

The drowning scare seemed to take the fun out of the hunt, and many of the boats docked early. Max’s had gone in immediately, but he and the hunter came down to the shore with some Pepie burgers and enjoyed the rest of the day on the beach. Several times, Max scanned the lake, probably looking for him.

Pepie kept low. Maybe one day he would let Max catch him. But not today.

As the sun slid below the horizon, Pepie headed home. Another Pepie Day done.

Reaching the deepest part of the lake, he waved his tail, disturbing the sand he’d placed there that morning. It swirled up, revealing pods spanning across Lake Pepin’s floor.

Curling up amidst his dormant family, Pepie closed his eyes and imagined the day when they would all return to the surface, no longer hidden and secret and would celebrate Pepie Day together. Their day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rachel Ann Michael Harris is the writer of middle grade fantasy stories (most of the time). She has an eclectic taste in stories which transfers to her writing, working in various genres. She has been published in several anthologies, including Havok, and is the author of The Beauty of Magic.

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