Girl at Sea

by Maureen Johnson

  “This is not a game, Aidan!” she said.

  “No,” he said. “You’re right. It’s not. And I guess you would know. But if you stopped being so evasive, it might be easier for me to put my ass on the line for you. I’m not asking you for your PIN number and your passwords.”

  Clio felt her face flush. He probably couldn’t see it out here. It was much too dark.

  “What do you want to know?” she said.

  “I’ve been stuck on this boat with no TV. I need some entertainment. So, come on. Bring him alive for me.”

  Her brain was reaching for some meaning in this. Either Aidan was just being weird and messing with her head—entirely possible—or he really was trying to establish some kind of trust. Which was very…surprising.

  “He’s tall,” she said.

  “Taller than me?”

  “It doesn’t take much,” she said with a short laugh. “But yeah. Way taller than you.”

  “How much taller?”

  “He’s six five,” Clio said.

  Even in the dark, Clio could see that Aidan looked like he didn’t quite believe that.

  “He’s six five,” she repeated. “Now, where did Egyptians learn all of that stuff if it’s so impossible?”

  “Nobody knows,” Aidan said.

  “That’s your answer?”

  “That is the answer. No one knows. Either they were just really, really smart or—”

  “Or?”

  “Or someone came before them that we don’t know much about. Really smart people. This is where it starts to get tricky and people start walking away.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean that people start to get touchy when you start speculating on ancient history. There are a lot of theories, and some of them aren’t taken too seriously.”

  “Like?” she asked.

  “Like that there was knowledge out there that was lost. Knowledge that came from a society that was at least partially destroyed in some kind of cataclysm, like a flood.”

  “Wait, are you talking about Noah’s Ark?” she asked. “In went the animals two by two?”

  “Noah’s Ark is one of many stories that talk about floods. Name an ancient culture and they talk about it. The flood story appears in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest known story. The Greeks talked about two major floods. The story shows up in India, China, Europe…the Mayans, Incas, and Aztecs talk about it. The stories all talk about major flooding, and sometimes the details are similar. And I’m not saying to take the Noah’s Ark thing literally. I’m just saying that there’s a definite pattern here. Stories about flooding, a lost group of people. From under the water. Are you following me now?”

  “Please tell me you’re not talking Atlantis,” she said, sinking down. “As in Atlantis, the completely mythical lost world. Atlantis, the thing they make theme parks about.”

  “It’s not Atlantis in the way that you may be thinking,” he said. “The guy who originally found the stone, he thought it was Atlantis. Atlantis was a bit more of a viable theory back then. Now we know that there are no submerged continents. It’s more the idea of a world that came before. There have been traces of a language, bits and pieces found all over the globe. That’s the weird part. Languages are local. We’re finding evidence of something big, something worldwide. A society that could travel around the world long before it’s supposed to have been able to. We keep finding evidence of it, but no one can read the writing. That’s where the Marguerite stone comes in. No matter what you think about that theory, the Marguerite stone can help us translate an ancient language for the very first time. And that just might change history as we know it. Literally.”

  “Look,” Clio said. “If there was some kind of vast underwater world, wouldn’t we have heard a little more about it by now?”

  “Maybe. But scuba diving wasn’t invented until 1943. Before that, there was no underwater archeology. That’s seventy percent of the earth’s surface that was inaccessible. And this field…it relies on amateurs. People finding stuff by accident. Underwater archeology is actually pretty new. So, no. Now you know what the stone means. Want to know something else I know?”

  Clio waited. Her heart was racing again, inexplicably.

  He leaned in until he was almost up to her face, his breath against her nose and cheek. Clio could hear her heartbeat echoing in the space behind her ear. The water that was leeching its way up her pajama legs was cold, and she could feel all the nerves in her body again, like on the night of the jellyfish.

  “You don’t have a boyfriend,” he said. “You’ve been lying. I told you. I can spot a lie.”

  The information was all coming too fast, and this…this was like a smack in the face. She had no boyfriend. She was an insane liar, from a family of general nutcases. His green eyes were boring into her now.

  “You’re…” she started.

  But she didn’t know what he was.

  “I knew it,” he said. “From day one, I knew it.”

  He leaned a bit closer. The current, that strange thing she had felt before on the couch when he’d leaned toward her then, it was there again. But his expression was so strange and hard to read in the dark. She could hear the waves slapping at the boat. They seemed to be snickering. Her humiliation was total. He had caught her. He had been laughing at her the entire time. She turned and stared out at the dark sea. Then she stood up, stumbling as the boat rolled.

  “Here,” she said, reaching for Elsa’s letter and shoving it at him. “This is for you.”

  The Date

  Clio woke up feeling ill the next morning. Her stomach was tender and her head was pounding. She didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to make breakfast. Didn’t want to lug around diving equipment or stare at maps in the wheelhouse. She wanted bed, TV, and snack food. And her cat.

  But there was no TV, her cat was being watched by a Polish neighbor in Philadelphia, her current bed was partially occupied, and she’d rented out her space for the night.

  So she got up. She didn’t shower. She put on the skull-and-crossbones pajamas and a black tank top and tied her hair in a knot on the top of her head.

  The weather had cleared, revealing a blindingly sunny day. The bad spirits of yesterday had brightened, and Martin was up and about, just like normal. Julia looked happy, presumably because the letter had resurfaced in one of her piles of paper, mysteriously. Clio made toast for breakfast and fell back asleep on the sofa before she had to face anyone else—anyone else being Aidan, who didn’t appear. When she woke up, Elsa was leaning over her.

  “He’s being annoying,” she said.

  That could only mean Aidan.

  “He’s down with my mom, so he hasn’t answered me. I don’t even know if he’s read it. Why can’t he just say yes so I can go and get things ready? Can you figure out a way to talk to him?”

  “No,” Clio said. “I really can’t.”

  “Are you okay?” Elsa asked.

  “I just don’t feel good,” Clio said.

  “Oh,” Elsa said. “I’m sorry. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “I’m sure,” Clio said, not feeling sure about anything at all.

  Aidan managed to lay low for most of the day, which was fine by Clio and not so fine by Elsa. She trailed him throughout the afternoon and finally returned with some news as Clio was sluggishly moving away the remains of lunch.

  “He said yes!” she said. “We’ll have to figure out when to make the switch.”

  “Whenever you want,” Clio said, trying to sound happy. “I just want to go to bed. I’ll read or something.” Why? Why oh why did she even care about any of this?

  Yet it felt like something that had been alive and flickering inside her—some kind of hope, some kind of something—had just been snuffed out before she could even really know what it was.

  Clio packed her bag early in the evening while it was still light out—bunching up her sleeping pajamas, books, her iPod. She picked
up the Galaxy name tag. It seemed so long ago that Ollie had typed it up and pinned it to her shirt. It felt like another life ago.

  All of the downstairs doors were closed as Clio let herself into Aidan’s room quietly. He wasn’t there—he must have stayed in the workroom.

  Clio had seen Aidan’s room on the first night, but going into it now was like discovering an entirely new part of the Sea Butterfly. It was so much smaller than the Champagne Suite; it wouldn’t have held their bed. It was darker, and the carpet was less plush.

  It was also entirely full of Aidan. It smelled of boy deodorant. There were wires all over the floor and a small pile of sci-fi novels and two very scary-looking engineering textbooks on the tiny bedside stand. There were crushed soda cans next to the bed. Otherwise, the room was clean.

  Clio emptied out her bag and arranged the books and iPod on the stand, pushing aside Aidan’s com. She sat on the bed. It was harder than hers, she noticed. And the blanket wasn’t as nice. She reached down and pulled it up and put it to her face. It smelled of Aidan, which was to be expected. But tonight she would be sleeping in this smell while he stayed in her bed.

  It was much too much to think about.

  She got up and was putting on her sleeping pajamas when the door opened. Aidan stepped in.

  “Do you mind?” she said, yanking the pants up just in time

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “You can go,” she said, getting into the bed and sitting up against the wall. “Have a nice night. Don’t do anything weird on my bed, although I know there’s no point in even saying that.”

  “We need to talk first,” he said, entering the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

  “What about?” she asked, flipping open her book. “I’m not going to tell anyone on you, okay? Just go.”

  But he didn’t go. He stood there staring down at her.

  “Oh, you must love this,” she said, her voice crackling. “A girl in your bed. A girl upstairs.”

  “Why are you like this?” he asked. His emotions were so suddenly real that it startled her. “What is your problem?”

  They were both speaking quietly so that no one would hear them. As they became more intense, it almost sounded like hissing. She didn’t even know why she was still talking to him. She just had this ridiculous need for him to understand. She needed to take one final stand and really explain herself.

  “You want to know my problem?” she said. “Okay, I’ll tell you my problem. Back when we made the game, my dad hired this guy to be his business manager. He was supposed to set up all kinds of investments, do a deal for a television show, all kinds of stuff. And then one day, my mom realized that our accounts were almost empty. And it was all done legally. My dad had signed the papers. It not only left us without money, we ended up in debt.”

  “And that’s when your parents got divorced?”

  “No,” she said. “My dad took me diving, but he didn’t follow the rules. I got hit. Then we go to Japan, and he lets me get this tattoo. Do you know how sick of this thing I am? This. This is the thing that did it. My mom knew she couldn’t trust him. She wanted us to have a normal life. I just don’t think she felt…safe or something. You never know what idea my dad is going to come up with, or where he’s going to go, or what he’s going to buy. He just does what he wants. And now? Now he’s doing it again. Julia knows a sucker when she sees one. This isn’t the first time she’s used people to get funding.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The only reason Elsa even exists is because her father sat on the grant board at a bank that was handing out research money. Didn’t you know that? And you have a date with my roommate, in my room, in my bed. So do me a favor and just leave me alone and go do what you want. Just don’t mess with my head anymore, okay? I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of all of you.”

  Aidan sucked in his cheeks. He balled up his fist and banged it against his thigh a few times.

  “Whatever,” he said. “Just, whatever.”

  And then he was gone.

  Clio let out a long breath and put her hands over her face. She tried to make her mind be quiet, to block it all out.

  “You do not exist,” she said weakly.

  Except that he did. A minute later, he returned, shut the door, and continued pacing. Clio looked up in total surprise.

  “First of all,” he said in a low voice, “you broke into Julia’s room, and what did you find? An old letter? That’s your smoking gun? Look, Julia is a little intense. She’s not a lot of fun to work for. But she’s smart, and she’s a professor, and your dad found her, not the other way around. And I’ve told you why this trip is legitimate and important. Are they going about this a little strangely? Yes, they are. Why? I don’t know. But don’t blame me for it.”

  His agitation was totally unhidden. Clio had never seen Aidan like this before—completely raw, not entirely in command of himself.

  “Second,” he said. “Why Elsa likes me, I seriously have no idea. It’s probably because I’m the only guy around. I don’t know. This is really a first for me. My track record is really, really bad, believe it or not. I should be pissing myself with excitement, but I’m not. She’s beautiful, and she’s nice, but I don’t like her that way, even though my brain is telling me I’m insane. I’m a guy. I’m not supposed to be complex. If a hot girl likes me, I’m supposed to like her. It’s that simple. But I don’t.”

  He started to pace in the few feet of space he had.

  “The reason I don’t is right in front of me,” he said. “I like the girl who is on my bed, right now, and who has appeared to hate me from the minute she first saw me. I disgust her so much that she makes up boyfriends to guard against me. She physically runs away when I’m supposed to dance with her.”

  There were almost-audible clicking noises in Clio’s head as pieces snapped into place.

  “You kissed her,” Clio managed.

  “I know. I kissed her because…because I did. Because I am a guy. Because she was there, and she’s gorgeous, and she wanted to. And you really didn’t seem to want to be around me. When you got hurt, I don’t know…it was so weird. It felt like something was happening with us. But then you just shut me down again. So what do I do? Do I accept the invitation, which I am still really confused about? Or do I say no? Do I…stay here?”

  No, Clio’s brain screamed. He’s Elsa’s. Remember? Remember Elsa? The girl who thinks she’s going on a date with this guy RIGHT NOW?

  Clio opened her mouth, but no words came out. The image of Ollie came into her head, but it was rapidly replaced by what was right in front of her. The guy with the tousled hair and the slightly too-big clothes. Snarky, smart, annoying, handsome…He suddenly sat down on the bed next to her and put his hand into her hair. His fingers were just tickling her scalp, making every hair on her body stand on end. Without even knowing what she was doing, she reached out and put her hand against his neck. It was stronger than she’d realized it would be. Immediately, the feeling rushed over Clio that despite everything, this was right.

  “Stay here,” she whispered.

  He was quiet for a moment. His finger made a little circle under her chin.

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said. And then he leaned in. He was at her mouth now, and she could feel his breath on her lips.

  There was a knock at the door. He jerked a bit. They stared at each other.

  “Who is it?” he asked, not moving his face away from Clio’s.

  The person didn’t answer.

  “One sec,” he called, moving back and standing up.

  There was a moment of confusion—bad comedy confusion. There was nowhere for Clio to hide, so she just slid farther under the blanket. He tossed some clothes on top of her. Whoever that was had probably heard them, so this was a complete joke. She peered out from the sleeve of a shirt.

  Elsa stood there, looking down at the floor.

  “You could have just said no,” she said to
Aidan. “And you could have just told me the truth.”

  That was to Clio. Or the mass of clothes that was Clio. Then Elsa walked away.

  Aidan paused for a second, then carefully slid the door closed and leaned against it, staring at the ceiling. Clio shook herself out of the pile. Her heart was going way too fast to be healthy.

  “I do everything wrong,” he said.

  “I have to go talk to her,” she said. “I’ll…we’ll…”

  “Yeah. Go.”

  “Do you…” She didn’t even know what she was asking. She was almost afraid to know. She hurried out into the hall and up the stairs.

  Do Not Push the Shiny Orange Button

  Elsa had locked their door. Clio stood in the vestibule in the dark with her hand flat against the bedroom door. Locked out of her home, out of Elsa’s life.

  She turned and looked out the vestibule window. Her father had come out on deck. He was staring at the dark purple sky and the last remnants of the sunlight—the long golden line sinking into the water. He was wearing his ridiculous little cap again, but it was strangely endearing now. After all she had just said, after what had just happened, her insides were so tossed around that her dad was the only thing that made sense.

  As unthinkable as this idea would have been a few weeks, a few days…maybe even a few hours ago, Clio had the overwhelming urge to go out to him and ask him what to do. That was her dad. He could help her figure her way out of this. She needed him.

  She hurried down the steps past Martin, who glanced up at her as he sat at the dining room table.

  “Clio,” he said. “You should—”

  “I’ll be back, Martin,” she said. “Hold on.”

  She went through the glass doors and out to her father. She was ready—she wanted him to know everything.

  “You know,” he said as she approached, “it’s always disappointing to know that your daughter—the girl you love—thinks you’re an idiot.”

  Clio stopped dead.

  “W-what?” she stammered. “I didn’t say that.”