A Pirate's Life for…Her?
My hand slammed down on the alarm clock as it started playing nature sounds. Monday again. I had always hated the beeping kind of alarm clock and the, "MISTY! GET UP!" kind, which sounded a lot like my mother (go figure).
I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed and walked over to flip my light on, making my eyes sting. I yawned hugely as I undressed and slipped on jeans and a green t-shirt. I also poked my green guitar earrings through the holes in my ears.
I had been trying to get back into the whole school thing, but it was just boring me. Apparently, after sailing the open ocean and having a swordfight with jack Tonter, the Devil himself, normal life could be a little…empty. Realizing this, I heaved a sigh put on moisturizer and eyeliner, and headed downstairs.
My dog Harley greeted me with enthusiasm. "Hey, girl," I chimed.
My mom, seeing that I was awake, turned around from the waffles slowly heating in the toaster. "Good morning," she said happily, as always. What on earth was so good about it?
"How are you?" my dad asked. I hate it when people ask me that right after I wake up. I don't really have a mood yet…except maybe annoyed…
"Fine," I replied grudgingly. I'm going to skip through most of my morning, because like I said, it was rather boring. To summarize it all, I ate a bowl of cereal, fed our squeaking guinea pig, brushed my teeth, and headed to the bus stop with my green backpack. My dad always drove me there.
We arrived at the bus stop in about forty seconds, considering it was right down the street, and I got out of the car after saying a short good-bye. I trudged over to the sidewalk and plopped down on the pavement. I took out my iPod and stuck the small green headphones in my ears, putting it on shuffle mode.
I hopped up a few minutes later as the yellow bus pulled around the corner. It stopped in front of us and I walked up the stairs, smiled at the driver, and took my seat two seats back. I always try not to sit in the first seat for fear of the bus driver attempting to talk to me. From past experience with her, I have come to the conclusion that she was dropped on her head one time too many when she was little.
I stuck my backpack down on the floor of the bus and slid down until my legs were folded and pressed against the seat in front of me. I leaned my head back and stared out the window, wondering if this routine would ever change.
My friend Kirsten was supposed to get on at the next stop, but she was not around. I assumed that she had to be driven to school for some reason. I sighed and stared out the window again.
Now, at my school, I'm not really considered a nerd, but I know that if a popular girl sits next to me when there are clearly other open seats, there's got to be something up. That was why I was completely thrown when Tiffany Mark and her hot pink backpack sat down next to me.
"Hi, Misty!" she said as if we were best friends. I could only produce a bewildered look and a small smile in return. "Well, say something!" she urged.
I narrowed my eyes and replied with a simple, "Hey." Her bleach-white toothy smile did not falter as she flipped her straight-ironed blonde hair.
"Well, good morning," she said, her voice full of force. Again I asked, what was so good about it? She was obviously trying to start up a conversation…and I was obviously resisting.
She looked a little impatient as she said, "What are you listening to?" As if she really cared.
I formed a reply for her benefit. "It's on shuffle," I said, turning back to the window, somewhat rudely.
"Okay, well, I'll see you later!" she said, finally giving up and going to sit with her best friend Amber.
I relaxed as soon as her ignorant presence was lifted off the seat. Maybe this week would be a little different after all.
But seriously, what was that all about?
The rest of my day was relatively normal, though Tiffany seemed to be everywhere I went. I dropped my books once, and there she was helping me pick them up. We had a couple of classes together, and she seemed content to hold the door for me in each one. At one point she even offered to carry my backpack for me.
That was when I flat-out turned and ran the other way. I have since resolved to take difference routes to all of my classes.
I recounted this to my friends at lunch and, as I expected, they laughed until tears came to their eyes.
"Guys, it's not funny!" I protested. "She is freaking me out!"
"Well, maybe she decided to be your friend," Terry commented.
"Yeah, right, that'll happen," Kirsten replied. "She's one of the populars. All of her friends are blonde."
"First of all, that is not true. Some of them are brunettes," said smart Josie. Her real name was Jocelyn, but I never called her anything else besides Joze or Josie. "Second of all, I think I know what she is dong. Isn't Tiffany in our language arts class?"
"Yes. I don't know how, but she is. But what's that got to do with…oh no," I said, realizing what was up.
"The project," said Josie.
"The project," I said quietly.
"What project? I'm not in smart people language arts," said Kirsten.
"It's worth half our grade," Terry explained.
"Tiffany's going to need a smart partner," said Josie.
"Wait…we don't get to choose partners for that," commented Libby, who had been talking to Sheryl.
"Tiffany's rich," said Josie. "She probably bribed the teacher."
"Josie, I don't want to work with her," I complained, my "normal" life suddenly seeming much more complicated. "What do I do?"
Everyone looked at Josie for advice. But Josie, smart Joze, shrugged and said simply, "I don't have all the answers."
Next period was homeroom, which was basically study hall; then Sheryl and I had orchestra. That was certainly not the most exciting class of the day, but the thought of facing Tiffany in language arts the next period kept me on the edge of my seat the whole time. How could the world so cruel?
And now I sound like some spoiled drama queen. Great.
Class ended and I put my instrument, a viola, in my orchestra locker. My feet carried me to the language arts room automatically, having taken the path many times. Mrs. Yuler ("It's you-ler," she always says) greeted me at the door as I walked to my doom.
I found Tiffany sitting in Josie's seat and Jose witting a couple seats back, her face furious. If looks could kill, Tiffany would have died a painfully horrible and a horribly painful death. Tiffany's face lit up with fake enthusiasm as I took my seat and let my backpack fall to the ground with a loud thump.
The bell rang as Mrs. Yuler walked in with her exotic clothing and short, off-white hair.
"Good afternoon," she said wearily. "Seventh period, eh?" Silence.
Mrs. Yuler cleared her throat and continued. "Yes, well. As I said Friday, you are to begin a project, in assigned pairs, on which no student has had any influence on—" Tiffany shifted in her seat in front of me. "The two of you will write a report on a life-changing experience. This report could be nonfiction or completely fictional, or a mixture of the two, depending on what you write. I already gave you your rubrics on Friday, though I have some extras for those of you who have already lost them. I'm now going to call out the partners." She reached for a piece of paper on her desk and read from it. "Amber and Jocelyn; Steve and Lauren; Matthew and Sheryl; Tiffany and Misty…"
Though I had known it was coming, I could not suppress the heavy sigh or disappointed expression that crept across my face. Normal life sucked, I decided. I would need to return to the pirate life soon, or else I would probably burst.
"Tiffany, come on," I urged. Thursday already. We had gotten nothing done in the past few days, due to Tiffany's various excuses. It was all I could do to get her over to my house in the first place. "This is due tomorrow, and I'm not going to do it alone."
"But you're doing a great job!" said Tiffany from my bed.
Anger coursed through me, threatening to explode. "I haven't written anything! And this is a partner project. I know vocabulary isn't your forte, but that means two people working on it."
"We are," Tiffany said lightly, though the corners of her mouth twitched. "You're writing and I'm supervising. Don't we make a great team?"
I felt like one of those cartoon characters that gets mad and their face turns red and steam starts pouring out of their ears. Maybe that's why Tiffany seemed to shrink before me as I took a step near her.
Suddenly, an idea struck me.
"Tiffany…do you like pirates?" I said, putting on my best innocent-girl voice.
Tiffany blinked, and that confused look she wears every time Ms. Yuler asks her a question was spreading across her face. "What?"
You would have thought I'd asked her how far away the moon is. Hopeless prep. "Not kidding. Do. You. Like. Pirates," I said, slowly and clearly, so even she could understand. I reached drawer for the pirate book.
"Um…yeah," she replied obviously suspicious. "What does that have to do with—"
"Then read this!" I said, tossing my most prized possession, the pirate book, into her lap.
She jumped as it landed. "Sure…um, Misty, are you okay?"
Ha. Like she cared.
Still, I realized I was a bit jumpy and turned it down a little. "Of course I am. I just…really have to go to the bathroom…" I invented. Tiffany's face was priceless. If only I had had a camera. "I'll be right back." I turned and left he room, barely suppressing the roar of laughter threatening to escape my lips.
For Tiffany's benefit, I entered the bathroom and shut the door. I waited a few seconds, and then opened it again noiselessly. I tiptoed to the door o my room and listened for anything that would tell me when to jump, though I wasn't really sure how this would work.
I heard the flutter of pages flipping and realized how much she was skipping. "Boring…" I heard her mutter. No problem, I thought. Revenge was not far away.
The fluttering stopped, and I knew she was at the poem. She muttered something again, but it was so quiet I couldn't hear what it was. Then, of course, the whooshing and the whirlwind came. Tiffany did not scream, thankfully. I would have been in trouble for that.
I decided the time was now. I ran into the room to see Tiffany's legs sticking out of the enlargened book. I lunged for one of her hot pink, rhinestone-studded flats and grabbed on tightly. As soon as my hand touched her shoe, I felt butterflies in my stomach and light as a feather.
It was a great feeling to be sucked into all this again.
The world disappeared behind us, and we landed with a thump on the ship's deck. Salty air overtook my sense of smell, and I breathed in the thick Caribbean air.
I pushed myself up and stood, looking at the ball rocking back and forth beside me. It was Tiffany, hugging her legs and looking as though she had fallen into a horror movie.
"Um, Tiffany?" Her head jerked to look up at me. "You need to chill out. Like a lot."
She seemed to calm down slightly as that sank in. She stood up, a little shaky. "Chill out?" she finally said. "Do you realize what just happened?"
"Um, yeah. We just collapsed into my all-time favorite dimension," I replied.
"You mean…you've been here before," she said. It wasn't a question. "You knew this would happen!" she shouted. "You set me up!"
"Pretty much," I admitted with no remorse. "But you did that to me."
"Well, you know what? That still means you're just an evil b—"
"MISTY!" someone shouted. Tiffany and I looked around to see a sandy-haired boy with boots on running towards us.
No way. "Oh, my gosh—JOHN!" I yelled, realizing who it was. I ran toward him, leaving Tiffany in the dust, and embraced him strongly. I looked up and lightly pressed my lips to his.
It was good to be back.
The scene was so beautiful, and I felt so safe there in John's arms. It was hard to let go and turned around when I felt a hard tapping on my shoulder.
Tiffany was right in my face. "Not that it's not interesting watching you make out with your boyfriend, but do you want to tell me what the heck is going on?"
I sighed deeply before answering. "The book lands us on the Aquamarine. No time passes in our world while we're here. Happy? Or do you also want a full explanation of my life?"
Tiffany was still mad. "No, I'm not happy! How do we get back?"
"That's for me to know, and for you to never find out," I said, though of course I would tell her eventually. I just wanted to make her mad, since she deserved it. I turned back to John and pressed my face against his chest, breathing in his salty smell. "I really missed you, John," I said.
"I missed you, too. I wasn't sure if you'd ever come back," he said, his soft voice overwhelming my consciousness, though he seemed to think he had said too much. I was probably just being silly. "But it's Captain Stewart, now."
Excitement exploded in my chest. "What? No way! That is so awesome!"
"Yep. And I have the power to get you out of work. But first, can you do me a favor?"
"Anything."
"Introduce me to your friend before she explodes." It was the last thing I had expected, but I was in to position to argue.
"Well, she's no friend, but sure," I said sourly, turning to see a red-faced Tiffany. "Tiffany, John. John, Tiffany."
"Nice to meet you," John said, holding out his hand.
"And you as well," said Tiffany as she shook his hand. The fact that she looked him up and down and moved her thumb in small circles on his hand did not go unnoticed. My heart pounded fiercely. "Okay. I'm willing to stay for a while," she said.
I hated her guts. "Well, why don't you go explore the ship? It's pretty awesome."
"Okay. Captain, you want to give me a tour?" she asked sweetly. I stepped on John's foot.
"Ow! Um…actually, I think Misty and I are going to be in the barracks. That's downstairs, whenever you get finished."
I grabbed John's hand. "Yep. Let's go, John. See ya, Tif."
The battle had begun.
"So, would you like to explain what happened?" John asked as we sat on his Captain's bunk. It actually had two pillows. Ooo, fancy.
"Well, okay. See, there's this book—" I began.
"I meant how Tiffany got here. I know all about the book," said John.
I was struck dumb. "Wait, what? How do you know about the book? You've been a pirate, like, your whole life!"
"Not entirely," said John. I had a feeling I was about to be almost Tiffany-confused. "My dad brought me here when I was…about ten years old. I told you a while ago that we joined the crew on the Aquamarine, and it was pretty cool. That was true.
"What I didn't tell you is that the first ten years of my life were spent in Orlando, Florida. I remember these weird nights where I'd see a green light coming from my dad's room. I would get really freaked out, but every time I opened the door, he was just sitting on his bed reading this book." At that, he reached beneath his bed and pulled out two copies of, "So, Ye Fancy Bein' a Pirate, eh?". "This one is yours," he clarified, and handed me one of the copies.
I opened my mouth to question, but John stopped me. "I'll get to that in a minute," he said. "A few years later I caught him in the middle of it. I ran to his bed and grabbed his foot, so it pulled me in, too. As it turned out, that was the last time he had planned to leave, and he wasn't going back. He wouldn't take me home, and I have no idea why. I missed Florida for a while, but I got used to the pirate life. I began to love it, so much that I didn't want to go back home.
"That's why time still passes in the real world. If the book's been closed for seven days, time will pass again. Anything less than that, and the real world stays frozen. But time will always move here," he added. "That's just he way it is."
I sat there blankly, trying to absorb all this at once. I felt like my head was going to explode. I shook it off and mumbled, "That's…interesting." Something still seemed wrong with that. "Wait, John—if there are, like, millions of copies of that book, then why aren't there tons of people opening the book right now?"
John was already shaking his head. "There are millions of copies of this book, but as it turns out, there are only five in the world that can transport you to a different dimension."
"Wait, are they in this world or the real world?"
"Well, your book only exists in the world you're in. The one you used to get here disappeared from the real world the moment you left. It reappeared somewhere in this world at that same time. Oh, and you wanted to know how I know this one is yours, right?" he asked. He took the book from my lap and opened it to the inside cover. There it said, in my own handwriting:
"I found that when you came here the last time. That's how I knew there was someone new here. I did not buy that story about you being from Sixten Island," John continued. "Right now, there are other books in one world, but only two."
"Don't you mean three?"
"Oops, right. Sorry," John corrected himself. "Three books." He sat and stared at his own copy of the book, ruffling the pages. "So, you didn't answer my question. What's the deal with Tiffany?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, yeah. See, I really don't like her. She's a total prep," I explained. John did not seem to comprehend the world "prep". "Oh, never mind. I don't like her. She's mean to me and my friends at school."
"Did you bring her here on purpose?"
"Well, yeah. She bribed our teacher to partner her with me on this project, and she's not doing any of the work. So I just kind of…told her to go read this book."
John looked at me strangely, almost disapprovingly. "Revenge isn't sweet."
"Well, whatever. She's here now and she's not going back until I say so," I countered. That basically got him to shush. I wondered if he hadn't noticed her flirting with him.
Suddenly there was a high-pitched scream and something large and pink tumbled down the stairs. Ah, Tiffany.
I hopped of the bed and helped her up rather reluctantly. "Tiffany, what happened?" I asked, trying my hardest to make it seem like I cared.
"That guy with the sword tried to make me do dishes," she said with an annoyed tone.
I rolled my eyes. What was I going to do with her? "Well, on a ship, everyone pitches in. Even if they just arrived from another dimension."
"That is so lame," said Tiffany. "Well, how come you can get out of work and I can't?" she asked.
Hm. I hadn't thought about that. "Well…it, um…builds character." John snickered somewhere behind me. "My character was built the last time I was here, so you need to help out this time. Do you need me to show you the way?" I asked sweetly.
Tiffany was ticked. "I'm thinking that you only brought me here to make me work," she said hotly.
"Give the girl a round of applause," I said sarcastically. "Bye, Tif." I pushed her up the stairs, finally rid of her utter pinkness.
For the next four days John and I hung out pretty normally. Living on a ship was so much fun. THe only problem was Tiffany. Whenever she sulked around, she complained about her pruny hands, getting seasick, and not being able to brush her teeth.
John and I were careful not to let her know how to get to our secret place atop the ship. She would surely ruin the beautiful sunset that we watched together each night. I was not going to let her get anywhere near it.
One dreary night, I was going to meet John at that special place. I was on my way up when I heard a girls' voice speaking, making me stop in my tracks.
"John, we haven't spent a lot of time together since I've been here." It was Tiffany.
"I have Misty now," said John's smooth voice. "You left a long time ago." My breath caught in my chest.
"So it's a little dirty here," Tiffany replied. "I can deal with it."
"Go a—" John was cut off. I sneaked a peek around the grimy corner to see their lips locked. There was no more noise as I turned and ran back to my bunk as quietly as possible. My eyes stung as silent tears rolled down my cheeks, for I knew she had kissed him.
When I woke up the next morning, my pillow was wet. It took me a while to remember why, but then the memory came to me and more tears flowed from my eyes. I stuck my head under the already damp pillow and cried some more. Why did this seem to happen each time I came here? Maybe I should just stop coming, I thought bitterly. But I knew I would never stop.
"Morning, sleepyhead," said an all-too-bubbly voice. I groaned. My lips formed the name "Tiffany" and anger coursed through my veins. It was her fault I was so miserable. She ruined my life, fragile though it already was. She deserved to be kidnapped, kicked, hit over the head with a frying pan, something—
"What do you want?" I asked, my voice full of hatred.
"Get up," Tiffany urged. "John wants to talk—"
"DON'T—SAY—HIS—NAME—" I screamed, snapping up immediately.
"Oh, my God," said Tiffany, presumably seeing my red eyes and pained expression. "Misty…I—"
"Just leave me alone," I said, getting up. I ran out of the room, up the stairs, and along the edge of the deck. I didn't see anyone or anything as I ran, hoping the sea would grant me a quick death—
Suddenly I was facedown on the deck of the ship and really ticked off. "Can I not tie my own shoes correctly?" I whispered angrily to myself. Fuming, I backed up into a corner and closed my eyes. I then repeatedly banged my head against the wall behind me, but all that did was give me a headache. I sighed and looked out at the open sea. There was something dark on the horizon, but I didn't care enough to find someone with a telescope.
A few hours later I was still sitting there, my butt asleep, my head very bruised. My stomach rumbled and reminded me that I had not eaten at all today. I closed my eyes and wished it would shut up. I was not planning on eating anything anytime soon. My head throbbed as I leaned back against the wall and let sleepiness overtake me.
Someone was shaking me awake. I reached out and pushed as soon as I found something solid. "Misty, don't—" said a voice. It was he. I wrenched my eyes open as anger bubbled inside me and threatened to explode. For a moment we stared at each other unblinkingly, then I stood up and ran. I ran wherever my feet took me until—
WHAM.
What was this brick wall doing here—
"Misty!" Him again. Could he not leave me alone? "Misty, I need to talk to you—you've been hiding all day, and—"
"Just—leave—me—alone!" I yelled, squirming to get away. His steel arms had me trapped. "I know what happened last night! I want to go home!"
"What?" he dropped his arms and I fell. He stooped to help me up. "Misty, look—"
"Don't touch me," I snapped.
The explanation he gave seemed rushed. At the time I had no idea why. "Misty, she came here a couple years ago and then left, but she never came back until now," he choked out. "Misty, I don't want her. She's so…girly," he finished lamely.
A wave of relief washed over me. "You don't…like her back?"
"Nope," he replied. At that, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him.
"Thank you, John," I whispered.
It was too good to last.
"Misty, we have a problem," said John.
"What?" I said, stepping back. "Didn't we just fix one?"
"Not a you-and-me problem," he explained. "The Aquamarine is being…pursued."
I was stunned. "No way," I said quietly. That must have been the dark figure on the horizon. Now I felt stupid for not telling anyone. "Wait…do I get to fight people?"
"If they come on board."
"Awesome!"
John rolled his eyes at me. "Come on, let's go find you a sword."
As I followed John down a flight of stairs, I felt the boat moving faster and heard people yelling on the deck. John and I found a sword for me to use that wouldn't weigh down my arm, and then we headed back up the stairs.
A monstrosity of a ship startled me and I nearly fell over. It was a miracle it hadn't crushed the Aquamarine to dust already. John must have noticed my fear, for he put an arm around my waist and steered me forward. As we walked I thought I saw something white-blonde move in my peripheral vision, but when I looked I saw nothing but the edge of our ship.
Suddenly there was a loud holler, and I looked around for the source. Someone pointed at the ship next to us, and I looked to see a lot of swinging ropes and some fat men on the ends of them.
John turned to me and said, very solemnly, "Misty, please don't get hurt. I—"
"CAPTAIN!"
"STEWART!"
"ORDERS! WE NEED ORDERS!"
John turned and left to give orders to the fearful men as I watched the wave of enemy sailors falling onto our ship.
We were under attack.
My head was spinning out of control. I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing for a few seconds, too. My feet backed me into a corner, where, hopefully, I would not throw up or faint pathetically. Why was it that I turned into such a wimp when John left my side?
There was a lot of screaming and clanging of swords when I came back to earth. I scanned the crowd for John and found him fighting off what looked to be the captain of the other ship. I figured he was because the feather in his hat was so big. Why couldn't I be as brave as John?
Suddenly a large man toppled over in front of me and landed with a loud thump. I looked down to see dark red blood spilling from his chest.
That pretty much set me off. My eyes widened in horror and shock as I stared down at him. A blood-chilling scream protruded from my lips and I ran for it, weaving in between people with swords. Unfortunately I was stopped by something long, skinny, and shiny that suck out in front of my face. I quickly ducked, slipping in the process. Scared out of my mind, I instinctively got up and twisted around to see who had nearly chopped my head off.
It was a tall man in a black coat and off-white blouse. He also wore stained brown trousers and chunky boots. I was quick to notice the shiny sword in his hand. I gulped.
I had, however, expected him to try to stab me as soon as he got the chance. For some strange reason, he stared at me with a puzzled look on his face. He uttered something that sounded like, "Didn't they already…", but I couldn't understand the rest, and he continued to stared at my perplexedly.
I decided that would be a good time to catch him off-guard. I plunged my sword forward with not so much bravery as instinct, but the man dodged it quickly. He slashed his sword, and I blocked it with a firm grip. I swung it at a low angle, but the man blocked it as well. We continued in this way for who knows how long, like some lively dance, getting faster and fast.
At some point the man tried to stab me. Unable to block such an attack, I spun to my right and stuck my sword into the man's back. He fell forward and landed with a thud. He did not get back up.
I felt horrible for taking someone's life, but after remembering the current situation, the feeling passed. I reached over and yanked my sword out of his back to see red liquid gleaming on the end of it. "Ewww," I muttered. I turned around and again scanned the crowd for John. I let out a groan when I saw he was still in battle with the captain of the other ship. I did observe, however, that the amount of unrecognizable faces, presumably from the other ship, was very scarce at this point. We must have been winning.
I then noticed that those remaining people were thinning rather quickly, and it was not because they were all motionless on the ground—they were leaving. I saw some climbing up the ropes to their ship, the cowards.
That was when the captain himself turned and ran. John seemed stunned as he stared at the tall man retreating. The captain hopped onto a ladder and was hoisted back onto his own ship, which also retreated from tumultuous shouts from crewmembers on the Aquamarine. But if everything had gone so perfectly, why did something seem so wrong? There was just a nagging at the back of my brain, but no matter how hard I thought, I could not figure it out.
John walked over to me with an extremely relieved expression on his face. He then sheathed his sword, pulled me into a hug, and kissed me.
We broke apart and I asked, "John, what's the matter?"
"You didn't get hurt, did you?" he asked, still tense.
"No, John. I'm fine," I said firmly. He pulled me into a bear hug that would have crushed the bear. "And now—I can't—breathe—" I choked out.
"Oh, sorry," he said and release me. "I was really worried about you."
I just smiled, and we walked downstairs to the barracks to get some rest. After saying good night to John, I plopped down on my top-bunk bed and lay down on the ancient pillow. After being there for around two minutes, I snapped up like a slingshot and, realizing what had been nagging at me this whole night, I whispered one word into the darkness: "Tiffany."
"John—John," I whispered, shaking him lightly. "John, you need to wake up."
John groaned. "What is it?"
"Tiffany's missing."
"What?" he said, sitting up immediately. "When did this happen?"
"Um…I don't really know," I admitted. "I just realized it."
"I thought you didn't like her," he said, though he was already slipping on his boots.
It was true. It was certainly a tough decision to make: save someone's life, hang out with John…dang it!
"Don't make me changed my mind," I said sourly, tying up my tennis shoes. "Let's go."
John steered the Aquamarine in the direction our attackers had left while I went down a flight of steps to grab a sword for each of us.
"John, wouldn't it be smarter to wake everyone else up?" I asked.
"Trust me, Misty, this will be a lot easier if we keep it to ourselves," he replied, not taking his eyes off the ocean.
"But—"
"Misty, look. The crewmembers here don't like her, and that other ship's Captain, Darsen, probably kidnapped her just so we would go after him and he could kill me and take the Aquamarine by force."
"So how will it help if it's just the two of us?"
"We can sneak on their ship, grab Tiffany, and come back. Then we'll just continue the route we were taking before she disappeared. Simple as that."
I wasn't so sure, but we were coming upon that monstrous ship, and I trusted John. I knew he wouldn't do something lie this unless he was sure it would work.
John used one of those grappling hooks ("Why do you have one of these?" I had asked. "Every pirate ship does," he had stated simply.) and we heaved ourselves onto the ship. That was when I saw the name Griffin engraved in the side. Fits it perfectly, I thought bitterly.
John pulled me up on the deck when I reached the ship's edge. We looked around the deck and, after making sure no one was around, tiptoed across the moldy wood. The night was dark and silent as we found the stairs leading to the brig. We snuck down the steps into complete darkness. I closed my eyes and opened them again, but there was simply no difference.
"John, I can't see anything—" I whispered.
"Shhh…Tiffany? Tiffany?" he said quietly.
Suddenly, a candle lit out of nowhere and a low, hoarse voice said, "Hello, John."
I nearly screamed, but the sound caught in my throat on the way out. A face appeared behind the shining candle, and it was hideous. There was a nasty scar on his forehead above the left eye, and he could seriously use some moisturizer to get rid of his all-too-obvious blemished skin.
"Maeron Darsen," John replied angrily. "Where's Tiffany?"
"Your girlfriend is right here." The candle shifted slightly, and I saw that Tiffany's mouth was under his left hand, and she was tightly bound with rope.
"WHAT!?!" I screamed in protest. "His girlfriend? Now, you listen here, Marian Barney or whatever the heck—"
There was a tugging on the back of my shirt. "John, quit—" I turned around and ran into something quite large and soft. I looked up to see a head sitting on top of the extraneous amount of fat. "Ummm…hello there," I said quietly, feeling very small. The large man raised his oversized hand and, thinking he was going to hit me, I covered my head and braced myself for the pain. It never came, so when I heard something hit the ground, I lowered my arms and looked down. I gasped when I saw John crumpled on the ground; thankfully, he was still breathing.
Hatred bubbled up inside of me, but before I could do anything, the fat man turned me around and shoved me in one of the cells. They pushed Tiffany in behind me.
"Guard the door. The boy is mine," said Darsen.
I had backed myself into a corner and deliberately turned my head so that I wouldn't have to face Tiffany. Maybe this whole experience would be good for her. She's gotten everything she's ever wanted in her entire life (except John, I remembered smugly), and now she'd been forced into a jail cell in the brig of the Griffin. As long as she didn't talk to me, maybe I could come up with a plan to get…us…out of here. Then I would get rid of her.
"Misty?" she said. Dang it, I thought sourly. "Misty, please talk to me."
"Why do you care?" I asked, still not looking at her.
"Because…I think I really hurt you."
I turned my head a smidge toward her. "Really? Figure that out all by yourself, did you?"
She sighed. "Misty, I'm sorry."
My head jerked in her direction, and I actually looked at her. "What?"
"I'm sorry," she said, and it sounded like she meant it. "I just wanted to get back at you for taking me here and only wanting to get rid of me. I didn't mean for it to go that far."
I stared at her unblinkingly for a few moments, and then said quietly, "I forgive you."
She smiled her bleach-white-toothed smile and then said, "I know how to get us out of here."
Talk about feeling stupid. "Huh?"
"I do. I've been trying to think of something the whole time I've been here, since that man kidnapped me on the Aquamarine. First, come here and untie me."
I crawled over to Tiffany's corner and untied the ropes binding her. "Now what?" I asked. I knew the world was completely twisted when I found myself asking her what to do.
"We take this bobby pin from my hair," she said, pulling something small and brown from her blonde hair, "and pick the lock with it."
She held up the small accessory, but I just stared at it.
"You're kidding," I said.
"Nope, simple as that," she replied.
"Do
you know how to do that?"
"Yeah. I used to pick the lock on
the door to my dad's office and steal his PDA. He can't work
without it, so he'd hang out with my brother and me for a day. Of
course, then he'd throw a temper tantrum and I'd have to put it
back. He's such a workaholic," she explained. "I think that's
why my mom divorced him."
It was amazing how in about fifteen seconds I'd learned more about Tiffany Mark than I'd learned about her in my whole life. This was insane.
Tiffany ignored my silence and stuck her bobby pin in the lock of the cell. For a few seconds she twisted it around, and then the lock made a clicking noise and the door swung forward. "Wow, Tiffany," I said.
She smiled. "Let's go rescue your boyfriend."
Somehow, the fat man was not guarding the door as he had been instructed. Too bad for him…he would probably regret that later…
Tiffany and I were quiet as we walked among the darkest places of the ship, being careful not to be seen. First we went to the armory and picked up two swords. I wondered briefly if she knew how to use one. However, after that, we had no idea what we were looking for or where we were going, so it was a while before we found anything helpful. I spent the entire time worrying about John; I'm sure Tiffany did, too.
At one point, when I was following Tiffany, she was about to turn a corner, but she gasped and backed up so fast I almost ran into her.
I shot her a questioning look, and she jerked her head toward the corner. I peeked around the moldy wood and had to force myself not to make any noise.
John had his hands tied behind his back, and he was standing on the ship's plank. Captain Darsen was pointing a sword at his back. Darsen's crew was grouped behind him.
I threw caution to the winds and stepped into the light. There was no way John was going to die the same way the Aquamarine's former captain did.
"Hey, Marian," I taunted. "Get that sword away from my boyfriend."
His ugly, scarred face turned toward me, and his yellowed eyes widened in horror. "What?" he yelled. "Ming! You were supposed to be guarding the door!" Darsen grabbed a gun from some other guy's waist and, with remarkable precision, shot the man called Ming in the chest. The fat man fell over backwards and did not rise again.
"Let him go, Darsen," came Tiffany's voice from behind me. I turned around to see her step into the moon's small amount of light. "The Aquamarine will never be yours."
Darsen tried to shoot at us, but the guy was out of shots. He swore loudly at the man he had taken it from and stabbed him in his stomach. Then, side-by-side, Tiffany and I walked into the crowd of Darsen's henchmen. There was a lot of swooshing as they all pulled out their swords. Was it just me, or were they all moving in on us?
I was scared out of my mind as Tiffany and I turned in opposite directions and backed into each other. "You got th-that side?" she asked, clearly shaking as I was.
"Ummm…s-sure…" I replied sheepishly. They were forming a circle around us, trapping us in this position. Suddenly claustrophobic people seemed to have the right idea.
One of the men in front of me slashed his sword all of a sudden, but, instinctively as always, my sword came up to block it. As soon as I heard that clang, I felt a spark inside me and I was no longer afraid. I thought I heard the same clang happen behind me, but it's not like I was about to check.
Another man in front of me stepped into our little skirmish and kind of freaked me out. Could I really fight two guys at once? I supposed now was a good time to find out.
As it turned out, I had no trouble fighting two men. It was still blocking attacks, just faster. It was actually kind of fun. Plus, I had no idea my sword could move as fast as it was right then. I quickly gained an advantage and started searching for an opening in their defense.
Before long I had found it and stuck my sword right through it and into his overlarge stomach. The other man's eyes widened in shock, and he seemed stunned as his companion toppled over backwards. I used his temporary silence to plunge my weapon into his fat belly as well. Two more idiot men took their places.
Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be—Tiffany and me back to back, fighting off our enemies as a team. I realized that I had never really given her a chance.
"Hey, Misty," came Tiffany's voice from behind me. "You know at the football games at school, when we score a touchdown and the cheerleading squad throws Amber from one clump to the other?"
"I think so," I replied, still fighting a crewmember.
"Well, I'm one of the people who has to throw her, and the distance between the two groups is about the same as the distance between you and Darsen."
I then saw where she was going with this. "You're not serious," I said, struggling to stay focused. "There's no way you could lift me on your own."
"You'd be surprised at how much upper body strength you build up after fourteen years of cheerleading," she said. "Just trust me. Jump as high as you can, and tuck your knees in, on the count of three."
"Okay…" I agreed, still not believing. What else could we do? At the rate we were moving, winning the battle could take all night.
"One…" Tiffany counted. "Two…" My legs bent as my right hand fought another sword wildly. "Three."
I pushed off as hard as I could, sending myself into the air. I tucked my knees into my chest like Tiffany had said. Gravity pulled me back down, but I landed on something quite unexpected. There was pressure on both sides of my hips, and the figure under me sagged slightly. It made a loud grunt as momentum and Tiffany's muscles carried me back upward. The pressure released, and I was flying through the air, right towards Darsen. Stunned faces looked up at me as I flew, and I placed my sword in a stabbing position. Darsen's horrified eyes stared at me as I started to land. His hand reached for his sword, but it wasn't quick enough. My sword and I came down on him, its point piercing his heartless chest.
I landed chest-first on the hard, wooden deck, which knocked the wind out of me. I rolled over onto my back and tried to breathe the thick Caribbean air, but that proved to be a hard job. Next thing I knew, blackness was closing in on both sides of my vision, my hearing faded, and I blacked out.
I opened my eyes to a starry night sky and a sharp pain in my chest. I breathed in, but that made it hurt worse, so I exhaled quickly and coughed.
"Misty?" a voice asked. "You awake?"
"Y-yeah," I choked out. I tried to sit up, but searing pain shot through my chest, and I lay back down.
"Ow…what happened? Where's John?" I said frantically, coughing again in my haste.
"Right here," said his voice. His face appeared in the dark sky I saw, though much closer. "How are you doing?"
"John!" I yelled, and instantly regretted it. I groaned from the invisible knife that he had just pierced my midsection. "Oh, jeez…what happened?"
"We think you broke a rib," he said sadly.
"No kidding," I said sarcastically. "Then that would explain the searing pain in my chest!"
"Right…" said another voice somewhere to my left, clearly Tiffany's.
"What happened after the obvious?" I asked.
"Well, after you killed Darsen," Tiffany began, "the rest of his crew was completely shocked. They thought I was going to kill them, so they let the three of us go. I carried you back," she added smugly. "You had to be carried at the right angle, or we could have broken something else."
"How in the WORLD did you know that?" I asked incredulously.
"My
Mom is a doctor."
"Of course she is," I replied rolling my
eyes. " How long will it take for this to heal, then?"
"Around 3 weeks."
"Fantastic."
"Misty, you should know what time it is," said John. "You've slept through the whole day. According to Tiffany's watch, it is 11:40 am."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"If you aren't back by 12 o'clock, time will more in your world."
My eyes widened in shock. "NO! I've been so worried about you, and now I have to leave?" I protested.
"We have 20 minutes," he said. "Let's go down to the barracks and sit. The reason we left you here, on the deck, was because we wanted to wait and see if you could walk. We didn't want to risk carrying you any further."
"But you're going to let the book drop me on my bed?" I asked, just trying to push it. "That could pierce a lung! If I stayed here until it heated-"
"NO," John said firmly. "Can you get up?"
"Well, I don't know, let's find out", I said. I tried to lift my book up and fell back immediately. "I'm going to need a couple of hands." John and Tiffany each stuck out a hand. I grabbed both of them and they helped me hoist myself up, through pain shot through my chest again.
"Thanks. I am going to try and walk now," I announced. My midsection did hurt as I walked across the deck with John and Tiffany at my sides, prepared for any sudden collapses.
Ten of my precious twenty minutes were gone by the time we made it to the barracks. John reached under the bed to get my book while Tiffany helped me sit on the bunk; John set the book next to me.
"Thanks for coming to my rescue, guys," Tiffany said to us.
"Thanks for saving my life," said John.
"Thanks for making sure I didn't pierce a lung," I said sarcastically. "John, I'm really going to miss you," I added unhappily. "Can't you come back with me?"
"I'm sorry, Misty, I can't," John said.
"Why not?" I asked. "Do you want to stay here for the rest of your life?"
"Two minutes, buys," Tiffany warned.
"Do you?"
"Misty, listen to me. There are some things about your life that you just can't change. This is one of—"
"John! Don't give me all that dramatic crap about how life's going to face you with some horrible things; it's a simple question—"
"One minute!"
"Misty, can't you understand? I belong here, I really do. You can come visit whenever you want," John said. After he leaned in to kiss me, he whispered in my ear, "I love you."
"Thirty seconds!"
"Fine!" I yelled. John helped me stand up, and I watched Tiffany's frantic searching for the correct page. I grasped her hand when she found it.
The green light glowed around the two of us. The book left Tiffany's hand, and then we began to float as well. The book expanded to a size that both of us could collapse into, and I braced myself for the fall. A whirlwind occurred only in the barracks, sucking in both Tiffany and me. We fell into the depths of the book, I being sure I was going to rip her fingers off as tightly as I was holding them, and then—
My mattress creaked as we both landed on our stomachs on my bed. I breathed in its sweet scent and groaned from the pain that crept across my bones. With much effort, I rolled over onto my back and saw Tiffany already standing up.
"What're you—" I began to ask.
"Shhh!" she said. "Wait for it—"
"What's going on up there?" my mom's voice hollered. "Is everything all right?"
I heard feet pounding up the stairs, and my mom burst into my room looking utterly horrified. Her eyes then moved to me on my bed. "Misty! What happened?"
"Mrs. Jacobs, it was horrible!" said Tiffany, coming to my rescue. "She tripped an landed right on the corner of that chair, and I think she broke something!"
"Oh, my God!" my mom yelled. "Does it hurt, Misty?"
"Yes, it hurts—"
"Mrs. Jacobs, go call an ambulance—I can get her downstairs," Tiffany offered.
"Thank you so much, Tiffany!" my mom said hysterically. "Oh, Lord, oh, Lord—" she said as she left and run down the hallway.
Tiffany trotted over to my bed and helped me up on my feet. As we were walking down the stairs, I asked, "Think you can manage the life-changing experience paper?"
Tiffany smiled. "I know exactly what to say."