Finn nodded. “Point taken.”
“We nearly drowned,” she said.
“Sort of.”
“Close enough for me.”
“I got us out of it,” Finn said.
“You?”
“Sorry… We got us out of it.”
“Better.”
“I may have spoken the Triton Code,” he added. “Twice.”
It took Willa a moment to allow herself to grin. “And I thank you for that,” she said.
“No charge.”
“Jess,” she said, reminding them both of their mission.
“Yes. And quickly.”
* * *
As one of the five prettiest girls in ninth grade, if you counted Marsha Coleman—and it was hard not to—Charlene had the attention not only of most juniors but even a few seniors as well. She was “popular,” which often translated to “hot.” She was checked out in the hallways. To girls who were jealous of her, she was an object of derision, the recipient of far too many text messages; and she even received a few anonymous gifts from time to time, not all of which were appropriate.
She had a lot to be thankful for—but at the same time, not so much. Boys wanted to get to know her, but not in a way she had any interest in. She kept tabs on a couple of them, but the more she learned, the less she liked.
Except when it came to Terry Maybeck and Finn Whitman, two of her fellow Keepers. Terry, who wasn’t exactly Calvin Klein eye candy. Terry, who considered himself to be God’s gift to girls. Terry, who came from a broken home, had few close friends, and worked every day after school to help his aunt Jelly. Terry, who Charlene couldn’t stop thinking about. She’d been warned about falling for the bad boys. No one could put Terry in that category. Not bad, just different. An artist. Someone who wasn’t afraid to express himself.
As a cheerleader and freshman starter on the school gymnastics team, Charlene was expected to date athletes. Varsity athletes. Her friends were constantly trying to match her with Kaden Keller, the star soccer player, or Josh Brewer—or any boy with a number on his back. But while she liked them as friends, even good friends, the jocks didn’t satisfy her romantic ideals. She wanted someone thoughtful, funny, interesting, and interested in things other than the obvious stuff boys were always interested in.
She glanced over at Maybeck, wondering once again if he fit any of her requirements. And if not, then why was she always thinking about him?
“Keep up!” he hissed at her.
“You look like a psycho in a hospital ward,” she said.
“The costume was handy. Okay? Or should I be running around in a towel?”
That hardly brought her mind back to business.
The trick was to look like you were walking while moving close to the speed of running. The Disney Dream was more than three football fields in length. Getting from amidships to the bow, and moving from Deck 4 to Deck 1, one covered a good distance.
“Storey’s going to meet us,” Maybeck said, checking his phone.
“Because?” They were stride-for-stride in the port side Deck 4 hallway, the Buena Vista Theatre to their right.
“She has the all-access crew-member card,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” said Charlene. She’d had about enough of everyone’s fascination with Storey Ming. She appreciated the help, but not the noise.
They reached Deck 1. Despite the added distance she’d had to cover from Deck 14, Storey Ming had arrived first. Without introduction, she said, “I can get the Hit Man’s trolley—that’s what we call Mr. Mop, ‘the Hit Man’—but it’ll only have one suit. Two at the most. There must be others in Costume—Laundry—which won’t be too hard to get, but it’ll take a few minutes. So what da ya want to do?”
“I’ll take the trolley,” Maybeck said. “That way, when the real guy comes looking for it, we can stall him. Charlie will hang here and wait for you.” He addressed Charlene. “You’ll get the other suits up to us.”
Charlene nodded.
“You’ll need to wear a suit,” Storey cautioned. “If Uncle Bob sees you on video with the trolley, he’ll know something’s up. We all know the Hit Man, and he’s not you.”
“Okay. So go. We gotta hurry!”
Storey took off through the Crew Only door that led to the I-95 corridor.
“How is this possibly going to work out for Jess?” Charlene asked softly.
“You’ll see,” Maybeck said.
“And what about you?” she said. “If you’re caught in that suit… If you’re stealing—”
“Borrowing!”
“—gear that belongs to the crew…they’ll throw you off the ship.”