Kenzo carried his wooden fishing rod down the forest path, the handle warm from the morning sun. Sam trailed a few steps behind, scuffing his sneakers against the dirt. "I'm not fishing," Sam said flatly, kicking a pinecone as it skittered into the tall grass beside the trail. The lake shimmered in the distance, framed by tall pines and the blue line of mountains beyond.
Kenzo baited his hook with practiced fingers and cast his line into the still water. They waited. A dragonfly hovered near the surface, then darted away. Sam crossed his arms and sighed, watching his own reflection ripple in the glassy lake. He did not look at Kenzo. He did not look at the water. He looked anywhere but there.
Kenzo pointed to a frog sitting on a lily pad nearby. Sam followed his finger. The frog blinked slowly, then hopped with a soft splash into the reeds. Sam's mouth twitched. He glanced at the water, then quickly looked away. His shoulders stayed tight, but his eyes stayed on the spot where the frog had disappeared.
Sam stepped forward and took the spare rod from the grass. He fumbled with the line, nearly tangling it around a pine branch. Kenzo reached over and untangled it with two quick twists. Sam's knuckles whitened on the rod, then loosened. He held it awkwardly, like something he didn't quite know what to do with.
Sam cast. The line arced wide and splashed into the water. For a moment, nothing. Then the rod bent sharply and the reel whined. Sam yanked it up, and a small silver fish wriggled on the hook, flashing in the sunlight. He froze. His eyes went wide. His mouth opened in a silent gasp.
Sam gasped and dropped the fish gently into his bucket, where it splashed against the pebbles. He stared at the bucket. Then he looked at Kenzo, and a real grin broke across his face. "Did you see that?" he said, bouncing on his heels. His voice cracked with excitement, and he could not stop smiling.
Another fish jumped clear out of the water beside the bucket, landing with a loud slap. Sam laughed out loud, the sound ringing across the lake like a bell. Kenzo laughed too. Sam's sneakers sank into the soft mud as he wobbled with delight, arms flailing, completely lost in the moment.
That evening, Sam sat at his desk with a sketchbook open, drawing the silver fish he caught. His fishing rod leaned against the wall, wet line still coiled on the floor. The next morning, Kenzo found a note on Sam's doorstep: "Want to build something tomorrow?" —Sam. Kenzo smiled and tucked the note into his pocket.
