“No problem!” He grabs the book from me, sprawls on the floor, and starts flipping through.
Huh. Maybe I should’ve had him help me before. It’s the perfect solution.
“Listen up, everyone!” I call. “Nathan is going to be showing you how to make the animals today. I’ll be here if anyone needs help.” Help messing up their towel animals, that is.
“Let’s make elephants!” Nathan announces, holding up the book so the kids can see the picture.
I expect the kids to revolt again, but miraculously, everyone seems into it. The directions say that we’re supposed to use one bath towel and one hand towel, but the cart has small towels—pink, of course—so I give everyone two of those and hope it doesn’t make too much of a difference.
Nathan talks everyone through what they’re supposed to do, demonstrating with his own towel creation. His elephant has a giant head compared to the rest of its body, probably because of the wrong-sized towels, but no one seems to notice. I relax a little. Things are actually under control.
And then I hear someone crying. I turn to discover that Sophia has managed to wind the two towels around her head so that she can’t see.
“I’m scared of the dark!” she shrieks.
I just manage to wrestle the towels away from her eyes when Jorman throws his elephant down in frustration and declares, “It’s not working. And I don’t want to make a girl elephant anyway!”
Next to him, a little boy starts crying because his elephant “looks stupid.” Meanwhile, a couple of kids in the corner have given up on elephants and are holding up their towels so that a girl can run through them like a bull. It only takes her a second to crash into a wall.
Amid the chaos, Nathan is running around yelling, “No, you have to fold it this way! You call that a roll? What are you, a baby?”
I stand there totally helpless for a second. I’m too exhausted to do anything. Why bother getting the kids under control when they’re going to walk all over me anyway?
“Can we have a food fight today?” the orange-haired boy from yesterday asks. “I brought fruit salad.” He grins as he pulls pieces of lint-covered melon out of his pockets. Ick.
“I don’t think so,” I say as Sophia wraps herself around my leg for some reason. “Too messy.”
“But you said we could do anything!” the orange-haired boy says. “Whatever we wanted!”
“Food fight!” some of the other kids yell, and soon the whole group is chanting “Food fight! Food fight!” I’m tempted to cover my ears and curl up in the corner.
As if things couldn’t get worse, at that moment, the door swings open and Ian the Pig waltzes in.
“Looks like you could use some help,” he says, acting as if he didn’t totally rat me out to the captain.
I’m about to shoot him down when I notice that my ankle feels oddly … wet. When I look down, I find two wide eyes staring up at me.
“I had an accident,” Sophia whispers, still wrapped around my leg.
I glance back at Ian and realize he’s not by the doorway anymore. Instead, he’s in the middle of the room, tossing towels up into the air and then catching them. He’s totally ignoring the kids as if he always stands around juggling for fun. After a second, the screams begin to die down as the kids start to pay attention to what he’s doing.
“Wow, you’re pretty good,” Nathan says.
Ian only shrugs and keeps juggling, pretending to almost drop something and then doing a dramatic dive to catch it. The kids shriek with laughter.
Seeing my chance, I grab Sophia’s hand and lead her to the bathroom. When she’s all cleaned up (and I’ve scrubbed at my ankle until the skin is nearly raw), we head back into the activity room to find the others are each holding two small juggling balls, trying to mimic Ian’s movements. Where on earth did he even find those?
Sophia runs off to join the group, and I stand off to the side, quietly watching the kids having fun. Despite myself, I can’t help admiring how easily Ian deals with them. Instead of asking them to do things, he simply shows them and assumes they’ll follow his lead. I guess his piggish personality actually works in his favor in this case.
Once the kids have tired themselves out with the juggling, Ian says, “Now let’s make some towel animals that you can show off to your parents.” He hands the reins back over to me, and the kids are suddenly all ears.
“After we make the elephants, you guys can name them,” I say, trying hard to sound confident. “So, um, grab your towels and let’s start folding.”
A few minutes later, we have a few pretty decent elephants made and one King of the Elephants, courtesy of Nathan, that could probably go in a museum. I send the kids off to name their animals, and then I start cleaning up the room. As I push the towel cart back into place, I find Ian standing only inches from me. He’s smiling for some reason, revealing a couple of dimples I hadn’t noticed before. Ugh. His stupid dimples that got my camera taken away.
I realize that Ian isn’t only lurking over me, but he also seems to be sniffing the air around me.
“What?” I say, despite the fact that I’m tempted to give him the silent treatment.
“You smell like pee,” he says with a laugh.
My cheeks ignite as I glance down at my ankle. How can there still be pee on it after all that scrubbing?
“But I’m willing to overlook that,” Ian goes on, “if you want to go run lines again.”
“Are you kidding me? After what you did?”
He actually takes a surprised step back. “What are you talking about? A deal’s a deal. I help you and you help me, remember?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure you broke that deal.”
“What are—?”
“Don’t bother denying it. I know it was you. Just when I was starting to think you weren’t a total pig, you proved me wrong.”
Before he can try to protest again, parents start bustling in to collect their kids, and soon the room is empty. I expect to find Piggy Ian lurking in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to tell me that my fly is down or something, but he’s gone too.
Good riddance.
Oh good, our judge is here!” Aussie Andy says when I arrive at the pool at noon dressed as Briar Rose, my wig itching as if it’s full of fire ants in the humidity. “Where’s Katy?” he whispers to me so the dozens of little kids nearby can’t hear.
“She, uh, wasn’t feeling that great,” I say. Gah. I hate that I have to lie, but I can’t exactly say that she’s at the gym trying to woo Smith with her bicep curls!
“Well, I’m glad you could join us.”
I sit down in the judge’s chair and shove my enormous dress down around me while practicing my big, theatrical wave and hoping I don’t sweat to death before the contest is over.
Aussie Andy turns back to the crowd and says into the mic, “Who’s ready for the Belly Flop Like an Ogre Competition?”
Wait. The what?
“I thought this was a cannonball contest,” I say.
Aussie Andy just laughs and tells the contestants to get into position. How am I supposed to judge how an ogre would flop into a pool? Can ogres even swim?
But the kids are all looking at me eagerly, so I paste my standard “everything is awesome” smile on my face and say in what I hope is a princess voice, “I look forward to seeing what you ogres have in store for me!”
A few of the kids roar back at me, and I can’t help laughing. Maybe this is going to be more fun than I thought.
Aussie Andy hands me some cards that are numbered one through five and whispers, “Go easy on ’em.” The kids line up, and when Aussie Andy gives them the go-ahead, they start flopping into the pool one by one.
The first boy starts to flop but winds up doing a half cannonball instead. I realize that all eyes are suddenly on me. Oh, right. I’m supposed to actually judge.
I think for a second and then hold up a three. The crowd boos. Huh. I guess when Aussie Andy said to go e
asy on the kids, he meant really easy.
Up next is a boy who must be a professional diver because he does the most graceful swan dive off the diving board that I’ve ever seen. I want to give him a five because he’s so good, but since there was absolutely nothing ogre-ish about his dive, I give it a four. The crowd boos again. Wow, I really can’t get this right.
A few belly floppers later, the crowd officially hates me. I’ve given pretty much everyone a four because I’m afraid to give higher or lower scores.
“This is boring!” someone yells.
Finally, a girl gets up on the diving board. She looks a lot older than the other contestants, and I actually wonder if she might be my age. No one seems to care, though, because she’s putting on a great show. She’s totally in character, scratching her armpits like a monkey and grunting. Then she hurls herself off the board and hits the water with a deafening smack. The crowd gasps as she shoots out of the pool with blood dripping from her nose.
“Are you all right, honey?” Aussie Andy calls to her, but she doesn’t pay attention to him because she’s crying. She looks okay, but the force of hitting the water must have given her a bloody nose.
No one’s paying attention to me anymore, but I weakly hold up a five anyway.
“And that’s our last contestant!” Aussie Andy yells, clearly trying to get things back on track. “And I think we have a winner.” He points to the girl who’s still sobbing into a towel while her mom hugs her tight. “Congrats, sweetheart! You win a free smoothie at the Oven! Er, I mean, the Hot—no, the Cool Spot!”
I hold back a laugh. The smoothies at the Cool Spot are free—a lot of the food and drinks on the ship are—but making it sound like a special prize is a great way to get some more people to go there. Aussie Andy really is a pro.
To my surprise, the girl starts crying even harder. “I’m lactose intolerant!”
“And,” Aussie Andy chimes in, “you also get your picture taken with a princess.”
The girl looks up at me and grimaces. “With her?”
“If you’d like,” Aussie Andy says. “Or with one of the other princesses on board. Your choice.”
“Wait!” someone calls. “She’s not a princess!” I turn to see Jorman pointing at me. “She folds towels!”
“Maybe she’s Cinderella,” one of the girls says.
“She doesn’t even know who Cinderella is,” a girl in a sparkly pink bathing suit answers. Sure enough, it’s one of the mini Barbies from the first day of the cruise.
“My Edwina won a prize,” the winner’s mother says. “She deserves a prize she actually wants!”
Aussie Andy and I exchange looks. I bet if Katy were here, she’d be able to smooth things over with that bubbly charm of hers. Too bad she’s off drooling over Smith. Wait …
“Hey,” I say to Edwina, “what about a date with Prince Handsome?”
She looks at me, her tears suddenly gone. “You mean the prince from the show? He’s so cute!” Her expression turns dreamy, and even her mom looks a little dazed at the thought of Smith. Ick.
“Yeah, if you want, you can go on a special date with him.” I have no idea how I’ll get Smith to agree to this plan, but at least the girl isn’t sobbing anymore. “With your mom, of course.”
Edwina’s mom looks like she might burst from happiness. “Thank you so much!” she gushes. “That would be wonderful.”
Her daughter finally smiles. “This is going to be awesome,” she declares.
Phew.
“And that’s the end of the contest!” Aussie Andy says, clearly trying to wrap up the event before anything else goes wrong. “Thanks for joining in the fun. We’ll be doing fairy tale trivia in an hour at the John and the Celery Stalk Lounge.”
I’m tempted to tear off my itchy wig as I retreat from the pool, but I tell myself to keep it together until I’m back in my room. I don’t want to give the captain any more ammo to use against me. So I stagger along through the narrow corridors, my enormous dress brushing against the walls on either side of me. On my way, I stop at the photo kiosk to see how things are going.
Mitch! is sprawled on the floor, trying to get some little kids to pose in front of an ugly backdrop of a castle while the youngest one gnaws on a foam prop tower.
When they’re all done, Mitch! scrambles to his feet and looks right at me. “Hey, you’re the one who gave me that advice about getting down on the ground when I’m taking pictures of little kids, right?”
“Yup, that was me.” It’s a miracle he recognized me in my princess getup.
“Great tip. I’ve sold a bunch more pictures thanks to you. How did you know to do that?”
“I like photography,” I tell him. “I want to be a wildlife photographer when I get older. You know, the people who go into jungles and take pictures of rare animals.” I laugh. “The closest I’ve come is taking pictures of squirrels in my backyard, but I keep hoping we’ll at least see a whale while we’re out here.”
“How old are you?” he says.
“Thirteen,” I say. Then I silently add “almost” so it’s not a lie.
“Wow. And you work here?”
“My mom’s the cruise director, so they made an exception for me. Actually, my mom said people have been having problems with their photos,” I say slowly, trying not to offend him.
“Yeah, they keep complaining, saying I don’t know what I’m doing.” He shrugs. “You know how people are with family photos. They want everything to be perfect.”
“Maybe I could help?” I say.
“You? You’re just a kid.”
“Oh, as an assistant or a junior photographer in training or something. It would be such good experience!” I paste on my brightest, most hopeful smile. Mom can’t accuse me of meddling if I convince her that I’m helping at the kiosk to get some professional experience under my belt.
“Sure, why not?” Mitch! says. “How about you start now?”
“Now? But I have to go change.” Not only is my wig driving me crazy, but my dress is so thick that I can feel sweat dripping down my back.
“No, that’s okay. If a kid wants a picture with a princess, we’ll throw you in the shot. It’ll be great.”
I sigh. “Great.”
And just like that, I have yet another job on the cruise. At this rate, I’ll be running the whole ship by myself by the end of the summer.
After I help Mitch! with photos for half an hour—which basically consists of me watching him flirt with all the dads—he turns to me and says, “I really have to go to the bathroom. Can you hold down the fort for a minute? You don’t have to do a thing except keep things calm until I get back.”
“Sure.”
As he disappears, the people in line start grumbling, and the kids in front of the backdrop start fighting over who gets to be next to the fake deer that’s part of the scenery. The mom asks me, “Any chance you have a second deer?”
“Sorry,” I say, and the youngest kid lets out a shriek. “But … we have some swords. Would you guys rather be knights in a castle?” That backdrop, at least, won’t clash with what the kids are wearing.
Their eyes light up. “Yeah!”
I know I should wait for Mitch! to come back, but I’m afraid the other people in line will start rioting, and the last thing we want is word getting back to the captain that there are even more problems at the photo kiosk. So I quickly change out the backdrop, push the deer off to the side, and hand out some foam swords.
“Now, pose!” I say, setting up behind the camera.
“You’re taking the pictures?” the dad asks, clearly skeptical.
“Just until Mitch! gets back. To test the lights and stuff.”
That seems to reassure them because they start listening to me. I have them shift around a little to get the best lighting, and then I start snapping pictures. After a few shots, a notification on the camera asks if I want to make the pictures “normal resolution” to fit more on the memory card. Since I want t
o make sure not to run out of room, I select “okay” and keep snapping.
By the time Mitch! comes back, I have at least a couple shots I can use.
“Whoa,” he says. “Looks like you went ahead without me.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I got inspired.”
“These look great!” the mom says, peering over my shoulder at the image display. “I know they were just test shots, but I don’t think we need to do any more. Thanks!”
“Nice job, kid,” Mitch! says when they’re gone. “I think that’s the happiest customer we’ve had this whole cruise.”
I can’t help giving myself a little pat on the back for that one. Then I look at the long line of passengers still waiting to get their pictures taken, and I get back to work.
* * *
Before the show that night, I peek into the teen lounge—aka the Cool Spot—to see how things are going. This time, it’s full of old people. Not a single teenager in sight.
“This place is hotter than Hades!” an ancient-looking woman is saying.
“They could at least have some decent drinks,” an old man grumbles. “They’re trying to pawn off those green smoothies on us. What’s kale anyway? Some kind of seaweed? I don’t want seaweed in my dentures.”
Yikes.
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting into costume right now?” one of the Spies hisses in my ear.
I mean, seriously, do they have everyone’s schedule memorized?
I realize this is the same woman I saw standing guard here last time. Her name tag says her name is Wanda. “You spend a lot of time in this place,” I say. “Any idea why it’s usually so empty?”
“Atmosphere,” she says immediately, as if she’s been waiting for someone to ask her opinion. “A place needs atmosphere.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Wanda shrugs. “It’s a ship, right? So maybe some fish, some dolphins, that kind of thing.”
“Like pictures of them on the walls?”
“No, real ones, swimming in tanks. You know. Fun stuff. Kids like fun. Maybe a shark.”
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