The next day, Armen borrowed his dad’s pole and joined Peter on the embankment.
The boys sat by their lines, silent most of the time. They’d chummed and cast into a soapy-looking patch, hoping that the bubbling surface was a sign of carp rooting around the bottom.
Armen sat at the end of his line, waiting for a tug to trigger him, as though he were nothing but a trap to spring. There was nothing to see, hear, taste, or smell; nothing much even to feel except for that slight tug. It seemed that even time had ceased to exist. He might just as soon be holding a line from the dark depths of the sea. Sometimes he’d close his eyes and imagine how it might feel; how surprising it might be to feel the line suddenly come to life as though it had a will of its own. There was no telling how long he might have to wait; forever, perhaps.
They talked for a while about catching fertilizer, but Armen turned the conversation to koi before long. Peter asked Armen if he could keep it secret. Peter didn’t want every kid at school coming over with rods, nets, and air rifles.
Armen consented. “Sure. … So you think there are more of those koi in there?”
“I hope so.”
The boys fished throughout much of that spring and summer. They hauled in a few carp, but nothing else. The water levels in the ditch began to recede, and the boys’ hope waned. They moved their operation upstream once their favorite spots began to dry up.
Occasionally, they would see a carp carcass rotting on the muddy ditch bottom. Upon spotting one such carcass, Armen stopped and looked down at it. He turned to Peter and asked, “what if we got a big net and dragged it up the canal?”
Peter shrugged.
“Is it against the law?” Armen pressed.
“Maybe.” Peter paused. “I don’t think anybody cares about the fish. They just don’t want us in the ditch—afraid we might drown and make the news.”
“I don’t think we’re going to drown in a foot of muddy water.”
“We could hide the net in a backpack—just in case.”
So they did. With a couple tips from Peter’s dad, they tied a couple nets from some old kite string. They grabbed a pair of posts, borrowed a small backpack, grabbed a dark green plastic garbage bag, and headed up Peoples Ditch.