The Fish That Got Away

Marco and his dad spend a whole afternoon at the lake trying to catch a fish, but every attempt ends in disaster — a tangled line, a lost bait, a soaking wet sneaker. When the bucket stays empty and the sun dips low, Marco notices something his dad has been hiding all along: a quiet smile that has nothing to do with fish.

Marco had never held a fishing rod before. It was heavier than it looked, and the line kept wrapping around his fingers like spaghetti. "Just a little flick," said Dad, guiding Marco's arm back slowly. Marco flicked too hard. The hook sailed sideways and landed in Dad's shirt collar with a soft plink.

Dad untangled the hook and put a fat worm on the line. Marco dropped it into the dark water and watched the little red bobber float and bob. "There's definitely a fish right there," Marco whispered. Then he leaned too far forward, and his right sneaker slipped off the dock and fell in with a loud splonk.

Dad fished the sneaker out with the net. It dripped all the way home into Marco's sock. They sat on the dock for a long time after that, not catching anything at all. Marco looked up at his dad. Dad was not looking at the water. He was looking at Marco, and he had been smiling for so long that his cheek had a little crease in it.

Marco picked up the empty bucket and shook the one drop of water left inside it. "We didn't catch anything," he said. Dad ruffled his damp hair. "Nope," said Dad. "Best day, though." Marco put the bucket back down. He thought about that the whole ride home, with one wet foot and one dry one.