I gave Felix a side hug. “It’s all a big myth. Like mermaids and Santa Claus.”
“But Mom said Santa Claus is real.”
Oh crap. “Yeah, you’re right. He is.”
“Maybe the triangle is real too then,” he whispered.
Another voice spoke up, a girl with a bubblegum-pink streak in her hair who had been hovering around Teague. “USS Cyclops. Left Barbados in 1918, went into the triangle, and was never. Seen. Again.”
“A history lesson isn’t gonna fix our boat.” I nudged Felix. “Screwdriver, please.”
That snapped him out of it. He dug around the toolbox and handed me a Phillips.
“What about the Mary Celeste?” Teague said, because he obviously couldn’t take a hint. Or a break. “Went into the triangle in 1892. When they found the ship, the entire crew was gone. Disappeared.” Teague made a poof! with his fingers. Felix scooted closer to me. I was about ready to throw Teague overboard.
“Enough with the theories, guys,” I said.
“That’s gotta be aliens,” the girl with the pink streak said.
And the pressure that had been building in me all morning blew. I threw the screwdriver back into Phil’s ratty toolbox. “Is this what you do in your stupid science club? Scare little kids?”
The chatter on the boat died instantly. Teague looked both affronted and pleased. Bubblegum-streak girl just looked confused.
“I’m only passing the time.” He gave me a smug look.
“Pass it somewhere else.”
“I’m not little,” Felix said.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean it like that—not like little, little, just young.”
My brother got up from his spot beside me, stepped around the tarp to get to the ladder, and disappeared onto the roof deck.
Teague clicked his tongue a few times. “See what you did?”
“What I did? What good is it to come up with impossible theories about aliens and wormholes and electro-magno whatever when—”
“Electro-magno?”
“—when what we need is to stay calm, conserve water, and wait for the Coast Guard without scaring”—I lowered my voice—“little kids half to death.”
Felix’s small head appeared over the railing above. “Shut up, T.”
A titter of a laughter moved through the boat.
My mother’s low tones floated down from the roof deck. “Tasia.”
No follow-up. I was supposed to understand everything Mom wanted me to do from that one word. And I did. Be the good daughter. Keep everyone calm. Stop antagonizing your brother. Don’t lose your cool.
Matt’s voice drifted across the water. “Okay, everybody. Let’s sing it again.”
So I did. I sang along and hoped to God that Matt was right.
By nightfall, most of us stopped talking about how weird it was, everything dying at once like that. Strange how a crowd gets used to a new normal. They keep thinking everything will be okay. But hope, even when it’s based on fantasy, is valuable.
At least that’s what I’d learn later.
By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, Teague had disappeared to find a better audience, leaving his snobby notebook behind for my brother to steal and doodle in. Serves him right. And Candy, the pink-streak girl, became my new best friend. She spent the next hour beside the engine, handing me tools and french braiding my hair. I started to relax, sure we’d be home by sunrise.
That’s when the guy from the roof deck, the one who’d met my eyes earlier, came down the ladder and introduced himself.
Ben, with the warm eyes and low, honey voice. Ben, looking like a young Lenny Kravitz, his white T-shirt stark against his deep-brown skin. I forgot all about the engine, the warnings, Mr. Marshall. And suddenly I was all thumbs. Navigating reefs and fixing scuba equipment? Check. Talking to cute guys? Not so much. While he and Candy poked around and talked circuits, I alternated between wishing I were up on the roof deck with Felix and imagining what Ben and I would look like in our prom picture.
After all his electrical talk with Candy dried up, he asked me a lot of questions about the engine and why our captain was off drinking himself stupid. All I could manage was a string of one-word answers.
Finally, Ben sighed and tossed the needle-nose pliers onto a bench. “You know what I’m going to do when I get to shore?”
“Leave us a really bad Yelp review?”
“After that.”
For one foolish second, I hoped his next words had something to do with the two of us going to a concert. Or sharing a picnic on the beach. But that couldn’t be it. “I’m guessing you’re going to learn how to actually repair a boat engine,” I said.
“You got it.” He leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes.
I knew it was super awkward before I opened my mouth, but somehow the words tumbled out anyway. “After we get to shore, maybe we could . . . I don’t know . . . Maybe Blue Dolphin Charters can take you snorkeling at one of the reefs. And your family, of course. You know. Gratis. For free. On the house.”
Ben must have heard something in my voice, because when he opened his eyes, some of the frustration had melted away. “You want to take me snorkeling?”
I mumbled through an incoherent response—something about how it wasn’t me taking him, but the charter, although I would be there. Thank God Captain Phil wandered over, stinking of alcohol. For once in my life, I was happy to see him.
He handed Candy a bottle of water. “Share.”
“You think they’ll send a plane for us at night?” she asked him.
“Nope,” Phil said.
“In the morning then?”
“Could be.” And he disappeared.
Candy watched him go. “Your captain talks like words cost money.”
The sun had sunk too low to do much but cast shadows, so Candy fished a Bic lighter out of her pack of cigarettes and held it above the engine while she and Ben gave it one more try. I sat nearby, on a beach towel, and wondered what I would have been like if I hadn’t been homeschooled.
I glanced up at the roof deck to check on Felix. Mom had stationed herself at the railing, like one of those sea captains from a hundred years ago watching for ships or storms. You only see her for thirty minutes a week through bulletproof glass, but she’s still got the muscle tone that comes from lifting tanks and equipment every day. Makes her look young and athletic and nowhere near fifty. She held an unused flare in one hand, her gaze set landward. Her arm was slung around Felix, who’d forgotten he wasn’t “little” and was leaning into her. One hand gripped the edge of her rash guard as if afraid she’d disappear if he let go.
Praying for boat lights, both of them.
The faint glow of the Bic disappeared. “Ugh,” Candy said. “My fingers hurt. That’s it. I’m done.” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Do you mind?”
I shook my head and closed the engine hatch.
Candy lay on her back by the engine hatch and smoked, and Ben and I sat across from each other on the benches. We kept the silence for a while, listening to the waves and the murmur of conversation drifting over from the Ruby Pelican. It held at least two-thirds of the crew and passengers now. Turns out nothing clears a boat like a dead body.