Deep Water

VESPER

All around me, there’s water.

Bright blue, as far as the eye can see.

I clutch the railing and stare back at the spot we came from. The harbor’s no longer visible, and neither is Dad. When we said goodbye, he hugged me tight for the first time in ages, as if he didn’t want to let go of me.

But he didn’t say anything, not one word.

And I get that.

Being good at saying goodbye isn’t in our genes.

But still, Dad let me go. In fact, he was the one who came up with the idea for this cruise. He says I need it.

When I heard the words “an amazing vacation for young people,” I refused at first. But when Dad told me where the vacation was going to be, I was sold. Ten days on a cruise ship, with nothing around you but the sea. It sounded so tempting.

“How on earth did we afford this?” I asked Dad when I saw the ship. It was the kind of thing you see in brochures: white and gleaming, even more beautiful than I’d hoped. And so big! Plenty of floors to get lost on.

But Dad didn’t answer my question.

I just hope he hasn’t started gambling again.

One day, he’s going to gamble away our house.

Or Ollie.

There must be lots of people out there who’d like to have a beautiful chocolate Labrador like Ollie. I think about his soft ears, which I held to my cheek just before leaving. Dogs aren’t allowed on board, but I really wish I could have smuggled him onto the ship in my backpack.

I pick at the railing. The paint flakes off. As a sharp piece lodges under my fingernail, I wince.

“Welcome aboard this Dean Sea Lines cruise,” a man’s voice calls through a loudspeaker. “We hope you have a wonderful time with us. And our staff would love to give you a personal welcome on Foredeck A. Be there in five minutes.”

I suck the sharp flake of paint from under my finger­nail and spit it out into the sea. The pain throbs and then fades.

“That all you’ve got?”

When I look around, I see someone with such bright orange hair that it hurts my eyes. In fact, everything about him hurts my eyes, from that hair to his white T-­shirt with three red stripes on the sleeves. His checkered pants don’t go with the look—­they’re like something from a different century.

“I’ll show you how to spit into the sea.” He grabs the railing with both hands, leans back, gives a big sniff, and then swings forward in one fast movement.

The blob of spit flies through the air.

“That’s how you do it.”

“Charming.” I turn around and lean on the railing.

“Why don’t you put your backpack down? That thing looks heavy.”

“Nah, I’m good,” I say quickly. He’d better not ask what’s in it. . . . 

“Looking forward to our little vacation?” he says, turning his back to the sea as well.

“Yeah.”

“So, who wanted to get rid of you?”

Huh? No one wants to get rid of me.

“With me, it was both of my parents. They kept nagging me until I said I’d go.”

“My dad wanted me to do it,” I say. “Because I . . .”

Because I need a rest, I think, but I don’t say it.

“What about your mom?”

“My mom’s dead.” I hate saying those words out loud, but it’s something I have to do pretty often. Ever since she died, it’s like every conversation leads to her, as if people can smell it.

“That’s a bummer.”

Did he actually just say that? A bummer is when you get a failing grade, even though you studied really hard. Or when you forgot to grab a towel and you’re dripping in the shower.

A dead mom is way more than “a bummer.”

“So, it was your dad who signed you up?”

I look at him. “For a cruise, yeah. You’re acting like this is some kind of hellhole!”

He smiles. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Well, it doesn’t look much like a hellhole.” I gaze up at the huge white ship. “There’s a movie theater, a pool, a library, a . . .” I swallow the word casino. “So, not very hellish.”

“Oh yeah, it’s incredible.” He’s still smiling. “Almost too good to be true.”

He’s crazy. I should have known. No normal person would dress like that. How did I manage to attract such a weirdo already? Bet I won’t shake him off for the rest of the vacation.

“We have thirty seconds left.” He taps his watch. “Then they’re going to come fetch us for the welcome talk.”

“I don’t want to go.” I can’t bear that kind of thing. I hate standing around in a group while someone gives a speech. It reminds me of school.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it.” He looks at me. His eyes are the color of a latte macchiato, Mom’s favorite drink. Not mine, though. Way too much milk. You can hardly even call it coffee.

“No, I’m not going,” I say. “If I don’t want to do something, then I don’t do it.”

He bursts out laughing. “They must love you at school.”

I don’t reply. If he knew what’s been going on at school lately . . . 

“Ten more seconds,” he says. “And five, four, three, two . . .”

“No one’s coming,” I say as he finishes the countdown. “See? No one cares if we’re there or not.”

“Oh, I think they do.” He keeps looking around.

I look back at the sea. Hopefully this guy is going to beat it soon, or I’ll just have to go in search of a quiet place to hide by myself.

“Hey, Jonah! Vesper!” someone shouts. A platinum blond in a white pantsuit with gold buttons comes striding across the deck.

“Here they come,” whispers the boy standing beside me, who’s apparently called Jonah. Has this woman somehow memorized everyone’s names? Not bad. When Dad and I were saying goodbye, I saw loads of kids boarding the ship.

“We missed you guys.”

Missed us?

“Just as I predicted.” Jonah looks at his watch and smiles again. “You’re right on time.”

The woman smiles back at him. “So, are you coming?”

“Welcome on board this Dean Sea Lines cruise. My name’s Tina, and I’ll be your host.”

The woman who came to fetch Jonah and me is standing in front of us on the outside deck, on the third step of the staircase. There’s a big group, about sixty of us. We’re all around the same age, but no one seems to know anyone else, because no one’s talking.

“Before the vacation kicks off, I have a few announcements to make.”

Everyone sighs.

Maybe I can sneak away now?

I turn around, but there’s a man in an orange shirt standing behind me. He has a scar across his cheek, and his eyes are small and piggy.

“This isn’t going to take long, Vesper.”

How does he know my name? Who is this guy?