I blink at her. “You want a shark on board the ship?”
“It would draw a crowd, right?”
“That’s true … But how would you tie that into the fairy tale theme?”
“Sharks can’t be in fairy tales?” Wanda barks. “Who says they’re not?”
“I—I don’t know. I guess they could be, even if they’re never mentioned.” I’m suddenly afraid she might gobble me up, shark-style. “They could be … in the background or something. Like maybe in Briar Rose, there’s a shark swimming around in the moat while she’s sleeping inside the castle for a hundred years.”
“Exactly. See? Now you’re thinking. You wanted my advice. There it is. All right, it’s three minutes past the time when you were supposed to be at the theater. Do you want me to report you?”
“No!” I say, already shuffling away.
When I get to the theater, the first person I see is Neil. He’s sitting in the front row with his Moleskine notebook again, probably writing more vocabulary words.
“Any good words today?” I find myself asking. Ugh. Couldn’t I have come up with something better than that?
He looks up from his notebook and gives me that sparkling smile of his. “Not really. Do you know what”—he glances down—“topiary is?”
“Sure, it’s when you trim bushes and shrubs and stuff to look like animals.”
“You’re making that up!” he says with a laugh.
“No! I swear it’s a thing.”
“If you say so,” he says, giving my foot a playful tap with his toe. My shoe just about lights on fire. Oh my gosh. Is he flirting with me? “By the way, your hair looks nice today.”
I self-consciously touch my ponytail. “Thanks. I wear it like this all the time, but … thanks.”
“So listen,” Neil says. “I was wondering …”
Oh my gosh. It’s finally happening!
“If you’d want to—”
He’s finally asking me out on a date!
“Ainsley!” My mom’s voice echoes across the stage. “Ainsley, is that you?”
Groan. Can’t I have a single conversation with Neil that lasts more than thirty seconds?
Neil jumps to his feet. “Hey, Lydia,” he says, giving her a bright grin. “You look great today.”
“Oh, thank you,” Mom says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “By the way, Neil, would you mind helping with theater cleanup after the show tonight? We’re a little shorthanded.”
Neil’s smile stiffens a little, but he nods. “Sure thing!” Then he tucks his notebook under his arm and heads backstage. I expect him to glance back over his shoulder at me, maybe give me a sad little smile, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s as frustrated about our interrupted conversation as I am.
Mom turns to me and sighs. “Bad news about the Cool Spot—”
“I know. I stopped by there earlier. Maybe I can help you come up with some ideas for how to make it better?”
Mom shakes her head. “I’m sure I can figure it out. I used to be great at this kind of thing.”
“Well … if you want some help, I’m here.”
“Thanks, Ains. I appreciate it. Now you’d better go get ready for the show. Break a leg!”
I’m hoping to talk to Neil again in the dressing room, but he’s busy goofing around with some of the other dwarves. Instead, I head over to get my costume and find Smith standing in front of the mirror, seemingly admiring his own reflection. I must have fairy tales on the brain because I can’t help imagining him asking the mirror who’s the “hottest of them all.”
“Hey,” I say. Time to convince him to go on a fake date with Edwina and her mom.
“Back for more acting tips?” He strikes what I think is supposed to be a dramatic pose, but he looks more ice sculpture than Hamlet.
“Um, no.” I’m tempted to smack him away like a fly. “I wanted to talk to you, though.”
“Yeah?” Then he goes back to staring at his own reflection, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Why is this so hard?” he says with a groan.
“What is?”
“I’m trying to raise one of my eyebrows. I’ll let you in on a little secret: The key to good acting is being able to lift your eyebrows one at a time.”
“I would think the secret to acting would be saying your lines like you mean them. And moving your arms around.”
Smith shakes his head. “No, trust me, all the greats have really expressive eyebrows. Maybe I could tape one of them up, and it’ll eventually learn to do it on its own. Can you do me a favor and find some tape?”
I sigh. “Sure. But you have to do a favor for me too. I need you to go on a date with a girl and her mom.” Then I explain about the belly flop contest. “You’ll have to talk to Aussie Andy about setting it up.”
I expect him to say something gross or conceited again—or to flat-out refuse to do it—but he only shrugs and says, “Okay. I’ll make sure they have a good time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not? I always love meeting fans,” he says, as if he’s been a fake prince for years instead of only a couple of days.
“Well … thanks.” That was easier than I thought. “How was working out at the gym today, by the way?” I not-so-subtly ask.
“Fine, why?”
“No reason. I think my roommate was going to be there too. You know Katy? She’s the Mermaid Princess.”
“The one who always talks about her dog? I think she’s got a thing for me.”
“Sh-she does? How can you tell?”
Smith gives me a gleaming smile. “Because they all do.”
Gross. As if every girl is pining after him.
I rifle around the dressing room until I find a roll of masking tape in someone’s makeup kit. As I go to hand it to Smith, I spot Piggy Ian walking into the room. When he sees me, he gives me an uncertain wave. I quickly turn away. Somehow, the roll of tape shoots out of my hand and smacks Smith on the side of the head.
“Ow!” Smith yells. Then he lets out a whoop of joy. “I think I got it! Ashley, look!”
As far as I can tell, his eyebrows look exactly the same as they did before, but I give him a thumbs-up and say, “Good job.” Then I waltz past Piggy Ian without a word.
I’m determined to get onstage on my own before the show, but when the curtain is about to open, I’m frozen in the wings again. My stupid legs won’t move no matter what I do, and my breath is making a weird rattling sound in my chest.
“Places!”
This is it. I won’t be able to get out onstage, and it’ll ruin the show, and the captain will chew me out for sure. But the worst part is imagining the look of disappointment on Mom’s face when she realizes I’ve totally let her down.
“Come on,” someone whispers in my ear. It’s Ian.
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t want help from someone like you.”
“What do you mean ‘someone like—?’ ”
“Places!” Stefan calls again.
I still can’t move, and suddenly things start spinning around me. Oh no. I can’t pass out again! And definitely not in the wings!
Before I can object, Ian grabs my elbow and practically carries me out onstage and deposits me on the mattress. Then he disappears without a word. I want to hate him—how dare he help me when I’m so furious at him?—but I’m too freaked out to do anything but lie on the mattress and try not to black out.
In the morning, I’m surprised to discover there’s no note from Mom or new sign outside my door. I doubt she’s given up, but maybe this means she’s more stuck than she was letting on. I’ll have to start doubling up on the brainstorming, in case she actually lets me help her.
“How was talking to Smith at the gym yesterday?” I ask Katy as we head off to work after breakfast. She was out late last night with the other mermaids again, so I didn’t get the scoop. She keeps inviting me to hang out with the other girls, but I’m barely getting enough sleep as it is.
Katy si
ghs and starts telling me about how she got nervous and started doing an imitation of her dog for him. “And Smith said, ‘Were you barking, or is that what your voice sounds like?’ and I was mortified!” She shakes her head. “I wish I could stop making such a fool out of myself every time I’m around him. So far, he’s only noticed me for the wrong reasons!”
Oh boy. I can certainly relate to that. One of these days, maybe I’ll actually have a conversation with Neil about something other than vocabulary words.
“But the second he’s around,” Katy goes on, “all I do is talk about Snoopy.” As she talks, her voice gets louder and louder, until passengers are staring at her as we pass by. I guess it must be pretty weird to hear the Mermaid Princess talking about a dog.
Suddenly, I spot Curt nearby. The Spies really have a sixth sense about this kind of stuff, don’t they? “Katy,” I say softly, “you might want to—”
But it’s too late.
“Katherine Abrams!” Curt barks. “Can I see you for a minute?”
He pulls her over to a corner and, I assume, starts lecturing her about staying in character, all while keeping a bright smile on his face. To anyone else, it would look as if they’re having a friendly chat, except for the stunned look on her face. Clearly, she had no idea she was doing anything wrong. I feel bad for her, and even worse that I can’t stick around to make sure she’s okay because I have to go get ready for my class.
I hurry off into the bowels of the ship and venture into the laundry cavern to find Adelina among the towel mountains and bedsheet cliffs. People are sorting through the stacks, throwing things into enormous washing machines or pulling them out of driers. It’s loud and hot and chaotic. I suddenly have a whole new appreciation for my jobs.
Adelina and a stooped older woman are pressing shirts on the other end of the room. When I get closer, I can’t help overhearing their conversation.
“Poor man,” Adelina is saying, her Rs trilling off her tongue. “He was so different before the accident. When I worked on this ship with the yarn people, he was always smiling. And now …”
“His hand is gone and so is his smile,” the other woman says.
They have to mean Captain Thomas, don’t they? But the idea that he could have ever been anything but his surly self seems impossible. And he was the captain here when the ship was still a knitting cruise? I had thought all the crew was totally new.
“Oh, Ainsley,” Adelina says, finally noticing me. “How are you?” I’m surprised she remembers my name, but maybe if you call the captain “Hook” in front of a bunch of people, you kind of stick in their memories.
“Um, okay. I was wondering if I could get some bigger towels.” I tell her about yesterday’s towel-folding fiasco. I’m tempted to ask her for non-pink towels, but I don’t want to press my luck.
“Of course,” she says. “This way.” She leads me down a narrow hallway into a room full of perfectly stacked towels and linens. Nearly half of them are accidental-pink. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” I can’t help adding, “So you’ve known Captain Thomas a long time? Sorry, I overheard your conversation.”
“Oh yes,” she says. “Over ten years. A lot has changed since he was with the knitters.”
“You said there was an accident. What happened?” I ask.
“A boating trip.” She looks around, as if making sure it’s okay to tell me more. Then she continues in a soft voice. “He was on the water with friends, and no one was paying attention to the weather. Suddenly, a storm came and the boat capsized. Everyone was rescued, but the poor captain lost his arm. After that, he was never the same. I think he blames himself for not being more cautious. Now that he runs an entire ship, it seems all he thinks about is being careful.” Adelina shakes her head sadly. “I must get back to work.” Then she shoos me away before I can ask any more questions.
* * *
For once, I get to the towel-folding class early. I’m surprised to find Nathan there by himself.
“My parents and sister are going on a snorkeling excursion today,” he explains, “so they left me with some old lady for the day, but she wanted to go to the casino, so she brought me here early.”
“No snorkeling for you?” I ask Nathan. I would have figured he’d be the first one off the ship, ready to tell all the locals what they were doing wrong.
He shrugs. “I’m not allowed to be out in the sun. It makes me break out in hives.”
“Wow.” I guess that explains the long sleeves and hat he always wears. No wonder he’s so into origami and other indoor stuff. “Why did your parents take you on a Caribbean cruise?” I can’t help asking. “It’s a lot of time in the sun.”
He doesn’t look up from the origami book he’s reading. “Because my sister really wanted to go on a Disney cruise for her birthday, but we couldn’t afford it, so this was the next best thing. Wait, you know her. Edwina, the one who won the belly flop contest. She told me all about it after.”
“She’s your sister?” I realize the two of them kind of look alike, and they certainly both have the perfectionist thing down.
“Yup,” he says. “My parents never tell her no. Last year, we all went to Six Flags for my birthday, even though I was too small to go on any of the rides. Guess whose idea that was? I wanted to go to this place where you can look at dinosaur bones and stuff, but my sister said it was too boring.”
The poor kid. “Did you tell your parents how you feel?”
“What’s the point? She’ll throw a fit, and they’ll do whatever she wants. They tell me they’ll make it up to me next time, and Dad always says I’m a trooper, but I doubt we’ll ever get to go.” He glares at me. “Why are you smiling?”
“Nothing, sorry. It’s just … my mom calls me her little trooper too. I think our parents would get along.”
He shrugs. “At least you get to do stuff you want to do,” he says.
This time I have to laugh. “Trust me. You’re not the only one who’s stuck here. But we’ll make the best of it, okay?”
Nathan shrugs, but at least he doesn’t look so glum anymore.
The door opens, and a bunch of other kids come rushing in. There aren’t as many as yesterday, but I’m still surrounded.
“Are we juggling again?” Jorman asks.
“Nope, we’re making towel lions today!” I announce. Not only do I know nothing about juggling, but I’m definitely not following Piggy Ian’s lead.
The kids stare at me, clearly unimpressed.
“Or … towel monkeys!”
Nothing.
“Whales?”
Someone behind me starts whimpering, and I know I have to think fast. I can’t let the class go totally chaotic again.
“Okay, forget towels. How about …” My brain churns, scrounging for an idea. “You want to learn how to walk like a prince or a princess?” It’s a fairy tale cruise, after all. They should want to do that kind of stuff, right?
“I don’t want to be a prince,” Jorman says. “Princes are for girls.”
“And for babies,” Nathan adds.
“What about a knight?” I say.
That seems to get a slightly better reaction.
“I like princesses,” Sophia tells me, “but only if they sing. Can we sing while we’re walking?”
“Um, sure.”
“What about space aliens?” another girl asks. “Can we learn to walk like them?”
“Why not?”
Before they change their minds, I usher the kids into the corner and have them make a couple of lines. Then I do my best to demonstrate how a knight walks.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Nathan informs me. “You have to pretend like you’re wearing really heavy armor.” Then he does a knight walk that would make Sir Lancelot proud.
“Okay, everyone do what Nathan is doing!” I call out, and this time, having the kids follow his lead actually pays off. That’s when I get an idea.
“Sophia,” I say after everyone’s tried
a knight walk. “Show us how a singing princess walks.”
She smiles and struts around the room, belting Disney songs at the top of her lungs. The kids start mimicking her, even the boys, and pretty soon, everyone’s giggling.
“Your turn,” I say, pointing to the girl who asked about the aliens. “How do little green men walk?”
“On their toes!” she says. “And they’re trying to suck people’s brains out!” She starts tiptoeing around the room, making little sucking sounds and wiggling her fingers. Soon, everyone in the room, including me, is following her lead.
“This is fun!” Jorman says, and my face hurts from smiling so much.
We keep going like this for a few minutes, coming up with weirder and weirder creatures to imitate. When we’re all clucking and pretending to be four-legged chickens, the door swings open. I expect it to be one of the parents, but it’s not. It’s much worse.
“What’s going on in here?” Captain Thomas asks. This time he has a pair of binoculars tucked under his arm. “I could hear you all the way from my office.”
The room goes silent. The kids might have never seen the captain before, but it’s obvious that they’re instantly cowed by him. They all stare at the compass spinning inside his hook hand.
“S-sorry if we were too loud,” I stammer. “We were—”
“Not folding towels,” the captain observes.
“Walking like chickens!” Sophia cries. She might be scared of a lot of things, but clearly the captain doesn’t intimidate her. “And like aliens and puppets and monkeys and dandelions!”
Captain Thomas looks at her for a second. Then he leans down, and I’m afraid he’s going to yell at her to go swab the deck. Instead, he smiles and says in a surprisingly gentle voice, “And how does a dandelion walk?”
She grins back at him. “Like this!” she says. Then she starts marching around the room, singing Disney songs at the top of her lungs again.
Oh no. Disney in any form is so not allowed on this ship. I expect the captain’s head to explode, but instead, he simply watches her with an amused glint in his eyes. Huh. I guess if the passengers are the ones breaking the rules, it doesn’t matter.
“Very good,” the captain tells her. Then he turns to Jorman. “And what about you? What was your favorite walk?”
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