In Over Her Head

by Melody Fitzpatrick

  “Oh, yeah. Good idea.”

  She grins. “Us girls have to stick together.”

  “Yeah, we do.” I say, feeling an annoying pang of guilt stab at my heart. “Hey, Piper …”

  “Yes?”

  “Um … I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, I knew you really wanted to do that scene again with A.J.”

  She shrugs. “What scene?”

  “Uh … the Titanic scene.”

  “Oh, Hannah, you worry too much. You guys looked great together.”

  “Really? I thought you’d be …”

  “Angry?” She laughs. “Don’t be silly.”

  “Oh …”

  Piper smirks, cocking her head to the side. “You thought I had a thing for A.J.?”

  I nod.

  “That’s funny. I mean, he might have a little crush on me, but then most guys do, right?”

  “Um … yeah … I’m sure they must.” I nod.

  “Well, enjoy your shower, and I’m glad to see you’re feeling so much better.”

  “Thanks. I am, too.” I smile.

  “Oh, and Hannah, one more thing. You looked like you were kind of zoning out at the meeting last night so I’m not sure if you caught it. We need to be in uniform for the morning meeting.”

  “Oh my gosh! I totally missed that,” I admit.

  Piper giggles. “I thought you did.”

  “Well, thanks!”

  “No problem.” She winks again. “See you at breakfast!”

  Okay, that was just weird. Hmmm … what is she up to now?

  Time check: Crap! I’m already five minutes behind.

  I jump in the shower (that has a built-in stereo system!) and crank the volume. I’m about to turn on the faucet when I notice my wristbands, so I yank them off and chuck them out the door and onto the counter. Halfway through my shower I notice the coolest thing — a dial marked “steam.” I turn it, and within minutes, I’m in my own little personal steam room. I throw a clean hand towel on the built-in bench and take a seat … this is the life! I totally need one of these at home. Perfect stress reliever!

  All of a sudden, it hits me. The time! How long have I been in here? How many songs have I listened to? Six, maybe? Great! I’m probably late again! I turn off the shower and steam, and jump out onto the warm floor. I feel the heat radiating down from the lamp overhead and suddenly, oh no … I’m woozy — hopefully, I’m just a little overheated from the steam … hopefully.

  “Hannah, are you done in there?” I hear Val call from the hallway.

  “I’m just about to get dressed.”

  She laughs. “Well, shake a leg. I need to get in there sometime this century.”

  “Sorry.” I pull on my robe, push my feet into my slippers, and whip my hair up into a towel. “Anybody else out there?” I say, peeking out the door.

  “Nope, just me, patiently waiting.”

  “Sorry!” I cry, smiling guiltily as I dart past her in the hall.

  Back in my room, the wooziness only gets worse. This bites! I really thought those wristbands were working! I look down at my arms, which are bare. Well, that explains it! I run back across the hall and pound on the door.

  “Val! Are you decent?”

  “Yup! Just plucking my eyebrows.”

  “Can you throw out my wristbands?”

  “What wristbands?” she calls back.

  “They’re on that little shelf in front of the mirror.”

  “I don’t see them.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they’re not here.”

  “Well maybe they fell on the floor. Could you check?” I yell.

  “Hannah, come in and see for yourself,” Val says, opening the door. “They’re not here.”

  I do a quick scan of the bathroom, and then check the pockets of my robe again, just in case — empty. “I just don’t understand it. Where could they be?”

  “Hannah, sweetie, my schedule is really tight this morning,” Val says, pleadingly. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve got to get into the shower.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I reply, wondering why she’d waste time plucking her eyebrows when she’s in such a hurry.

  Reluctantly, I give up on my search, head back to my room, and somehow manage to get dressed and do my hair in record time. (We’re all on a tight schedule this morning.)

  This seriously blows! I woke up excited this morning; like really, genuinely, looking forward to finally doing this thing for real! I can’t miss another shoot. It would look totally unprofessional!

  I glance at my reflection in the mirror, and I’m as pale as a ghost. Oh gawd! I look like I have the flu. How am I going to make it through breakfast?

  * * *

  Massimo’s face breaks into a huge grin when he sees me. “Good morning, bella!”

  “Good morning, Massimo.” I smile weakly.

  “Today is a big day so I have prepared for you my Massimo breakfast special!”

  “Massimo breakfast special?”

  “You have not heard of it? It is famous!”

  “Um … I don’t think so.”

  “Ahhh … no matter!” He waves his hand dismissively. “Words cannot describe. You need to taste!”

  “Massimo, I … um …”

  Before I can protest, the Massimo Breakfast Special is in front of me — a massive egg-and-sausage breakfast sandwich, oozing with cheese, slimy fried onions, and something green, which may or may not be avocado. Massimo beams with pride, his eyes wide with anticipation as he waits for me to take a bite.

  Henry, who was in the middle of wolfing down his first sandwich when I came in, wastes no time diving in to a second, and is oohing and ahhing with every bite.

  Massimo claps his hands and laughs. “A masterpiece, no?”

  “Massimo, I reckon you’ve outdone yourself!” Henry says, happily popping a final dripping bite into his mouth.

  “Henry,” I say, passing him a napkin, “you have … um … some egg yolk on your chin.” So gross!

  Henry grabs the napkin and wipes off the disgusting egg yolk. “Ah gee, thanks, Han!”

  “No problem,” I reply, my stomach lurching.

  “Dig in!” Henry points at my sandwich.

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  Massimo frowns at me. “Hannah, my dear. You must eat.”

  No … I must not eat! I must get out of here!

  “Massimo … I …”

  “I hope everyone is fuelling up with healthy food this morning!” Captain Steele bellows as he comes into the galley.

  Why is his voice so loud? He seriously scares the crap out of me every time he opens his mouth.

  Massimo holds up the captain’s special teacup. “Coffee, Captain?”

  Captain Steele is about to answer when he glances down at the gigantic breakfast sandwich in front of me.

  “Hannah, is this your idea of a healthy breakfast?”

  “Um …” I glance over at Massimo, who looks like he’s wincing in pain from what I can only guess is fear of the captain’s wrath.

  The captain’s nostrils flare. “Please, for just this once, answer the question!”

  “Captain,” Massimo bravely breaks in, “Hannah didn’t —”

  “I didn’t …” I say, cutting him off (with no idea of how to finish the sentence). “I didn’t … I didn’t …”

  “You didn’t what!” the captain barks.

  “I didn’t realize how hungry I’d be this morning because I’ve …” (gulp) “… been so sick, and now that I’m feeling better, I figured I’d need a big breakfast …” (gulp) “… with eggs …” (gulp) “… and sausage …” (gulp) “… and cheese … and mmm … caramelized onions,” (gulp) “… because now I’m
just starving and …”

  It’s like there’s no way to stop my rambling; I’m like an out of control runaway train speeding downhill!

  “… and oh my gosh, I’m so hungry,” I say, stuffing the massive sandwich into my mouth. Suddenly, my teeth are piercing through the English muffin and into the soft, squishy egg. Ewwwww … this was an epically bad idea.

  “Hmmm … Do you know what my daughter ate this morning?” the captain asks.

  He doesn’t wait for me to answer, which is good because I definitely couldn’t right now.

  “She had carrot juice, a bowl of blueberries, and a spinach-and-egg-white omelette. And do you know why she …”

  The mention of egg white seals the deal for my topsy-turvy tummy, and suddenly the captain sounds like the teacher from Charlie Brown: “… wah-wah-wah-wah-wahhh …”

  I swallow hard, trying to postpone the inevitable. I can feel my stomach starting to contract, pushing everything upwards. This is not good …

  Fortunately, the barfing is over pretty quick; the unfortunate thing, however, is that the captain is in the line of fire when my stomach finally decides to blow.

  “I’m … I’m sorry. Um …” I stammer.

  Henry’s eyes bulge as he presses his smiling lips together, trying to hold back his laughter. The captain throws him a warning glare, and then shifts his furious eyes back to me.

  “First my trophy, and now my favourite shoes. Is there something you are trying to tell me, Miss Smart?”

  I don’t dare answer; for all I know, it’s one of those rhetorical questions.

  “Massimo! Some disinfectant and a rag please,” the captain orders loudly.

  “Yes, Captain,” Massimo answers, a rag and spray bottle already in his hands.

  As soon as the captain has been cleaned up and sent on his way with a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich of his own (double standard much?) Massimo brings me a cup of ginger tea.

  “Hannah, what has happened? You were fine yesterday.”

  I hold up my bare wrists.

  “Where are your bands?” Massimo shakes his head in confusion.

  “I don’t know.” I frown. “I took them off before my shower and now they’re gone.”

  “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah.” Henry clicks his tongue, smirking. “What are we going to do with you?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug, too weak to come up with a witty comeback.

  “Come on. I’ll help you look,” Henry says, taking the cup of tea from my hand. “They’ve got to be around here somewhere.”

  We search my cabin, the bathroom, and even the hallway, but they’re nowhere to be found.

  “Why did you take them off, anyway?” Henry asks.

  “I didn’t want them to get wet,” I answer.

  “Good idea.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t even think about it until Piper reminded me.” I smile. “She was actually super sweet this morning.”

  “Piper, sweet?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s interesting.”

  I look at him strangely for a second, and then suddenly, I get it … Piper.

  8

  How to Outfox a Fox

  So, after checking lost and found (just in case), and having the captain ask at our morning meeting if anyone had seen them (which wasn’t fun — he called me irresponsible in front of everyone), I’ve come to the conclusion that my seasickness bands are gone forever.

  Henry frowns. “I hate to tell you this, Hannah …”

  “What?”

  “I think you’re going to have to lie down. You look terrible.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “Want me to walk you back to your room?”

  “Sure.”

  “So, what are you gonna do? You can’t call her on it. She’ll just deny it.”

  “I don’t even know if it was her, Henry.”

  “I do,” he says, opening my door.

  “We don’t know for sure, Henry, and I can’t risk breaking the no drama rule. Even though I’m sick, I don’t want to be sent home.”

  “Okay, well, lie down for a bit. Maybe you’ll feel better by the time we’re ready for the dive.”

  “Thanks for being so sweet.”

  “I am sweet, aren’t I?” Henry smirks. “You totally have a crush on me, don’t you?”

  “Hardly.” I roll my eyes. “I only said you’re sweet.”

  “And cute, too!” He grins and pushes up his sleeves, acting like he’s all that.

  “Henry!” I cry. “Your wristbands!”

  “Yeah,” he replies, looking down at his arms, “a show of support for my seasick friend. But they’re not for seasickness; they’re for tennis. Uncle Phil has a court at his house.”

  “Can I borrow them?”

  “Hannah, I told you …”

  “It doesn’t matter!” I run to my closet and pull out my purple silk blouse. “My mother made me bring this in case we had a fancy diner or something.”

  “Okay, so?”

  “Henry, look at the buttons! They’re pearls.”

  “I don’t get it.” Henry shrugs.

  “O-mi-gosh, Henry! I can snip a couple off, sew them inside your tennis bands and voilà … instant seasickness bands!”

  “Ooooo. The girl outfoxes the fox!”

  “Yes she has, Henry. Yes she has.”

  * * *

  It takes me all of five minutes to make my DIY seasickness bands and another twenty before I’m feeling better, like back-to-normal better.

  “I can’t wait to see the look on Piper’s face when she sees you,” Henry says, zipping up his wetsuit.

  “We don’t have any proof she took them, Henry.”

  “Just the same, don’t tell her you made new ones. You can’t trust …”

  “Can’t trust who?” Piper asks, walking onto the dive deck.

  “You can’t trust the weather forecast,” Henry answers without missing a beat. “You know those weather forecasters make mistakes all the time.”

  “Hey! My father is a meteorologist!” I say defensively, throwing a pretend glare at Henry, who is doing a great job at steering the conversation away from the subject of Piper and my wristbands.

  “Hannah, you’re here,” Piper says through an uncomfortable smile. “I thought you were sick.”

  “Nope, I’m great,” I reply.

  “But …”

  “Okay, everyone. Can I have your attention?” Patrice calls out. “Before our dive, I’d like to get a shot with Hannah showing the kids how to put on their scuba gear.”

  “What!” Piper screeches.

  “What!” I echo.

  “Patrice, Hannah has never done a real dive before in her life,” Piper argues. “Why would you want a novice showing us how to put on our gear? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Patrice looks at Piper and readjusts his beret. “Piper, who is the director here, you or me?”

  “You are.”

  “Then please let me do my job.”

  “It’s okay, Patrice,” I say, trying to assure him. “I mean, Piper has way more experience with this kind of stuff.”

  “Hannah,” Patrice says, frowning. “I’ll ask you the same question — who is the director?”

  “You are.”

  “Well then, please let me do my job.”

  After ten takes I finally get it right.

  “Perfection!” Patrice exclaims. “Now we shoot the scene for real.”

  “What?” Piper barks. “Again?”

  “Piper, if it’s too much for you, you can sit out.”

  “Of course I don’t want to sit out!” she squawks.

  “Okay, let’s continue.”

  After eleven takes, I’m pretty much a pro at assembling and putting on my gear. Now for the div
e …

  The plan is for each of us to take a giant step off of the dive deck, sink down into the water, then pop back up, re-check our gear, give a thumbs-up that we’re ready, and wait for the signal to descend all at once.

  Thankfully, Patrice does not make me go first. One by one, we enter the water. I’m the last to go. After a few run-throughs of push past the fear and just do it, I take a giant step and plunge down into the water. I pop back up just in time to hear Patrice yell, “Perfect, everyone! That’s a wrap!”

  Everyone starts clapping.

  “What? That’s it? We didn’t dive!” I yell back to Patrice.

  “No, Hannah. Today, we were finishing our promo shots. We will do the real dive tomorrow when we reach the dive site, farther inland.”

  “Oh …” I say, surprised at how deflated I feel. I guess after all of the psyching myself up to do my first real dive I’m disappointed that it wasn’t real; it was all just for show. The magic of television, I guess.

  “Hannah,” Patrice calls, as he pokes his head into the gear room where we’re hanging up our equipment. “Get to bed early tonight. I have big plans for you tomorrow, my budding young superstar!”

  Why does Patrice say these things? Soon everyone is going to hate me!

  I look over at Piper, who’s rolling her eyes. She totally notices and instantly her face softens. “Great job today, Hannah. I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks,” I say, suspiciously.

  A.J. frowns. “Hannah, Piper was really worried.”

  Henry folds his arms. “Seriously?”

  “Henry, you didn’t see how concerned she was. She thought Hannah would miss the dive. She was, like, actually really upset about it,” A.J. protests again.

  “I was.” Piper nods innocently.

  “Weird how all of a sudden you got sick again, huh, Hannah,” Henry says, glancing in Piper’s direction. “Piper, you know anything about that?”

  “Oh …” She smiles, looking down at her feet. “I know my father was pretty angry about his shoes. It took a while for me to calm him down, but don’t worry, Hannah. He’s fine now. He sooo wanted to send you home, but I convinced him to give you another chance.”