* * *
Finn sensed eyes on him as he boarded. He didn’t know if it was because the stewards were greeting passengers, or a guest had recognized him, or the lenses of security cameras were recording him, or if it was just his own paranoia. But there it was, and he had to deal with it.
The journal was tucked under his shirt into the back of his waistband. His mission was to copy its contents and transmit it to Wayne. But a second element to the mission revealed itself: finders keepers. Until this moment, as he felt the power of a thousand eyes watching him, he’d not bothered to consider that Maleficent would want it back. Not simply want it, but do anything to get it. Its importance to her could not be overstated.
He felt like a thief with a world-famous jewel in his pocket. He felt like a target. Suddenly, everyone was the enemy: the nice steward who’d just welcomed him, the girl at the elevators giving him a warm smile, the old lady with the walker and the bad sunburn glaring at him as he tried to slip past her.
The boarding passengers hit gridlock at the elevators, packing in tightly. The smell of body odor mixed with barbecue sauce was a dreadful, toxic sweet-and-sour blend that made him want to retch. Someone farted, and Finn thought he might hurl. He finally broke through the throng and reached the staircase, his hand at his back protecting the hidden journal. He climbed the stairs slowly at first, but he had that creepy, spine-tingling sensation, convinced someone was right behind him.
Arriving at the landing on Deck 4—more guests awaiting the elevators here—he noticed two uniformed crew members enter from the outer decks. They looked right at him and turned in his direction. Finn held the banister and began climbing calmly toward Deck 5 (there were rules against running) but felt his heart rate soar as the two fell in line behind him—also climbing the stairs calmly.
At the next landing, he got a look at their solemn faces and felt a jolt: the one nearest the banister had been in Tia Dalma’s cabana.
He tried keeping his pace calm, but took two stairs at a time in an attempt to put distance between himself and the other two.
They stayed with him.
It felt as if the journal were burning a hole in his back.
At Deck 5 the two officers separated. The one he thought he recognized stayed behind him.
His throat went dry. His skin itched. He should have thought to pass the journal off to one of the others; he’d been a fool to carry it aboard himself. Maleficent would be furious at Finn’s use of Triton’s crabs to sabotage her. He could barely swallow. He was not about to lead this officer to his stateroom! Worse, a ship’s officer could go anywhere he wanted to, had access to much more of the ship than Finn; it wasn’t like Finn could slip into an area the officer wasn’t allowed.
He glanced left, right, and up, where he spotted a girl stopped on the stairs staring at him intensely. The moment they met eyes she started down toward him.
“O…M…G!” she said loudly. “Are you one of those hologram thingies? You’re, like, in all the parks, right?” He made his voice sound like a robot. “Hell-o! My name is Finn. Can I show you around the park today?” She skipped stairs hurrying down to him and stopped, blocking his way.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the officer climbing toward him.
The girl reached out and took him by the wrists and shook both arms, wildly excited to meet him.
“This is so awesome!” she said. Then, looking down at her hands, she added, “But how come I can touch you?”
He caught her glance over his shoulder. Then she reached around him and put her hand right into the small of his back. Finn wrestled to be free from her, but she pinned the journal there and hugged him, giggling.
With both arms wrapped around him, she leaned back. “Sorry, but I just had to do that!” she proclaimed.
His wrists felt cold where she’d gripped them. He didn’t recall feeling her hands as cold, only the lingering aftereffect. It felt strangely like he’d forgotten something, or had lost something. But thankfully the journal was still there.
The ship’s officer slowed as he drew near, then walked past Finn, tracking the boy with his peripheral vision. He continued through a door to the starboard deck.
The girl appeared to be watching the officer as well.
“You’re right in thinking they mean you harm. I can help,” the girl said in a whisper. She took off through the port doors; her oddly colored hair was what he remembered most—black, with a splash of vibrant red at the bottom.
Finn stared at the twin doors in a stupor. He wanted to call after her, to stop her. But she was gone. For a moment his legs wouldn’t move. When they finally did, he bounded upstairs.