In Over Her Head (4 page)

“Rule number five — bananas are strictly prohibited, which means that under no circumstances should I
ever
see a banana on this ship!”

The Australian boy, Henry, starts shuffling away from the captain. Once he gets to the railing, he stops and holds up a banana. No one seems to notice except for me … thank god! What is he trying to do, get himself kicked off this boat? He throws me a devilish wink, pretends to use it like a telephone, and then chucks it overboard. An unexpected snort escapes me.

Henry sprints back into position directly behind the captain, where he was standing just a moment before (a weird choice of spot, if you ask me).

“Rule number six —” the captain says, now glaring back at me again “— no shenanigans!”

My hand shoots up in the air and instantly I regret it.

“Rule number seven — questions are to be asked at the end of a meeting,
never
during. Is that clear, Miss Smart?”

I nod, sheepishly lowering my hand. I was going to ask what he meant by “shenanigans” but I'm pretty sure he just meant anything fun.

“Rule number eight — no whistling. Rule number nine — no chewing gum.”

OMG!
… my gum!
Was I chomping? Could he tell? What am I going to do? Maybe I should swallow it? No, then it'll stay in my stomach for seven years. That's like three hundred and sixty-four weeks! Or is that a myth? Doesn't matter, I'm not swallowing it.
I glance around. There's an empty teacup on the table behind me — as good a spot as any, I guess.

“Rule number ten — no spitting. Rule number eleven — no swearing.”

Nobody's looking; they're all too busy shaking in their boots. I casually put my finger to my lip and tap it, like I'm really concentrating on what the captain is saying. Then I lower my head, whip out the gum, twist myself around backward, stick the gum on the side of the cup, and spring back into position so fast that I think I can add a new skill to my resumé — gum-chucking ninja! No one notices a thing except Henry, who's giving me a very enthusiastic two-thumbs-up.

“Rule number twelve — no singing.
Rule number thirteen
…” His voice roars so loud and intimidating, I wonder if he's always this cranky, or if it's all just a show for the cameras.

“
Rule number thirteen
,” he bellows again, sweeping an evil eye over each and every one of us, “
no
drama and when I
say
no drama, I
mean
no drama, no tattle-taling, no whispering behind each other's backs, no crying, no whining, no complaining …
no drama
!”

At that, he stops talking. No one dares to say a word until …

“Are we done?” I whisper to the man beside me. He puts his finger to his lips and shakes his head nervously.

“Hannah!” the captain barks, taking a step in my direction. “Your last name is Smart, correct?”

“Umm … yeah.” I reply, sheepishly, secretly wanting to answer,
Seriously, dude? You just called me Miss Smart a minute ago!

“Umm … yeah?” he echoes with disgust.

“I mean, yes, Captain, I mean sir, or Captain, or …”

“Both are acceptable.” He frowns.

I swallow hard. “Yes, sir, Captain, um … Captain, sir.”

Everyone snickers.

“I mean … what I meant to say was — yes, Captain, my last name is Smart.”

“Interesting … well, are you?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Um… smart, you mean?”

“Yes,” he replies.

How am I supposed to answer that? I'm doomed.

“Hannah …” The captain purses his lips into a thin, angry line. “I'm waiting for your answer.”

“Um … yes, I guess,” I finally blurt out.

OMG!
Henry is behind the captain, like a mime, copying every single thing he does! If he gets caught, he's dead, and if he makes me laugh again, I'll kill him myself!

“Really? You think you're smart?” The captain folds his arms across his chest. And there goes Henry, folding his, too!

“I understand that you're on TV.” The captain's voice is so intense that I take a step back, accidentally banging into the table, causing all of the china to rattle.

The captain studies the table behind me. Great! Did I break something? This is going from bad to worse!

“Massimo!” The captain's voice booms. “I'm a little dry.”

“Tea, sir?” Massimo scurries over to the table, grabs
the cup
and instantly makes a face.

Oh no! He touched the gum! He looks completely grossed out!

“What's wrong with you, Massimo? You look ill!” the captain barks.

“No, everything is fine, sir,” he says, staring straight ahead. A forced smile pops onto his face as he tries (unsuccessfully) to wiggle his thumb free.

“What are you waiting for, Massimo!”

“This cup, sir?” He smiles awkwardly.

“Of course that cup, Massimo! It's the only cup I drink from while on board this ship. It's tradition.” The captain shakes his head. “Why are you still standing there? Get me my tea.”

“Of course. Right away.” Massimo nods and scurries off, his thumb hiding my chewed-up gum from the captain's angry eyes. Thank god he didn't say anything!

“So, Hannah … back to you,” the captain turns to face me again. “Being on TV, you're a big deal back home, aren't you?”

“Um, I don't know. Not really,” I answer, truthfully.

“Well, around here, young lady, you're
not
a big deal. You're just like
everybody
else … replaceable. Understand?”

“Um … I think so.”

“Good! So, I would suggest you follow the rules, save your excuses, and above all, steer clear of drama because dramatics of any kind will earn you three strikes and a one-way ticket back to Maple Ridge.”

A sly smile creeps across Piper's face, and I know instantly that we're not going to be friends.

This Wasn't on My Bucket List

W
e're
moving …
OMG!
… this is it — the moment of truth. We're heading out to sea! For real!

I am one with the ocean … I will not be sick … I am one with the ocean … I will not be sick …
I AM ONE WITH THE OCEAN
…

I watch the shoreline slowly disappear as our boat picks up speed, and I wait … for what, you ask? Barfing … the inevitable puking, vomiting, upchucking — however you want to phrase it, I'll be doing it, over the side, any minute now. Yup,
any minute now
…

Okay … so, this is weird. The way this usually goes, I should have my head over the side, losing my lunch by now, but I'm fine … never been better, actually.

I guess when you think about it, the boat is pretty big. Maybe that's the reason why I'm not turning, like, eighteen shades of green right now. It's so huge that it just skims right over the waves. I mean, I can't feel a thing. What a relief! I don't even know what I was worried about. Seriously!

“
Attention, s'il vous plait
. Attention please,” a tallish (obviously French) man in his forties exclaims. He's wearing snug white pants, a light blue polo shirt, and a navy blue beret on his head. Considering I saw him giving the film crew instructions during the captain's meeting, I think it's safe to say he is the director of the show.

“As the captain brings us out to sea,” he continues, “please allow me to introduce myself. I am Patrice de la Fontaine, your director.” He sweeps his hand out to the right, and dips into a slight bow.

“Unfortunately, our captain feels very strongly that drama should not happen on this ship. I, however, have a show to create! Life is reality!” He looks off into the distance for a brief moment and then continues on, “We are living, breathing, feeling humans. Life is drama! Reality TV needs both …
life
and
drama
!”

We're all standing here looking at this man and I'm sure we're wondering the same thing — how the heck are we supposed to create drama when the captain has these big, scary strikes just waiting for us as soon as we do?

“For the next few days we will be travelling out in rough seas to get all of our action shots! Our helicopter camera crew will be flying overhead, catching it all, of course!”

“Um … excuse me, Patrice,” I say, slowly pushing my hand in the air. “When you say ‘rough seas,' how rough do you mean … exactly?” I giggle nervously, hoping no one can detect that I'm on the verge of having a meltdown.

“Oh, Hannah! Brace yourself for excitement!” Patrice nods, smiling, raising and lowering his eyebrows. “Imagine all of you young, brave sailors, battling the angry ocean, massive waves crashing over our bow, sea spray in your faces.…”

Massive waves? Sea spray! Why did I agree to do this show! I'm doomed on so many levels!

“Hannah, you don't look so good,” Henry whispers into my ear.

“I'll be fine,” I lie.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Patrice is exaggerating. He would never put us in any danger.”

“He wants drama, Henry … danger and excitement. I mean, how else is he gonna get it?” I whisper back.

“Good point.”

“Hannah, you're looking a little pale,” Piper chirps loudly. “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Patrice shakes his head. “We need everyone here. Hannah just needs to find her sea legs. Breathe in that fresh salt air, Hannah, and regard the horizon. I have very important information for all of you before we arrive at the dive site.”

Dive site! We're diving
today
… out here …
in rough seas
! This is crazy.

I'm feeling sicker by the second. Looks like everyone has found their sea legs but me. This is awful!

“Hey look!” A.J. shouts, pointing. “A whale!”

A what?

I turn just in time to see the coolest thing I've ever seen … a gigantic beast bursting up from the sea.

“Une baleine!”
Patrice shouts excitedly. “Val, look at that magnificent creature! It's breaching! You must get this shot!”

Normally, seeing a whale would totally freak me out, especially so close to our boat, but for some reason, I'm mesmerized.

Before I left home to come on the trip, I Googled
how to kick your fear of the ocean
(because my fear was real and like, totally crazy out of control).
Turns out, this fear of mine has a name — thalassophobia (just in case you were wondering). Anyway, I stumbled upon this website that teaches you how to use self- hypnosis to get over your phobias. It must have worked because, if I weren't so sick right now, I'd be running for my phone to get a picture of that whale myself.

Val, one of the videographers, grabs her camera, and we all watch in awe as the whale continues performing its acrobatic moves, thrusting its humongous body high up into the air, only to come crashing back down with all its weight, making a fantastic splash! Everyone is
oohing
and
awwing
, except me; I'm still trying to find my sea legs, attempting to become one with the ocean … actually, I'm just trying not to barf.

Everyone is laughing at the whale, which is now waving its tail back and forth at our boat. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone is distracted, I run inside to search for a wastebasket or a bucket or anything that I can keep by my side
just in case.
It only takes a moment before I realize that going back inside the cabin was a bad idea …
a very bad idea
. If it's even possible, I feel sicker than ever.

About thirty seconds into my search, I hear Patrice yelling for me. “Hannah! Come back! We have much to discuss.”

I try to yell back but it's no use. I can't. If I did, I'm pretty sure more than words would come out, if you know what I mean.

Piper pokes her head in. “Hannah! The whale is gone; you can come out now.”

Too weak and queasy to set her straight —
that I was absolutely not afraid of that whale
— I finally admit that I feel awful. “Piper!” I cry in desperation (because, at the moment, she's the only one who can help me), “I think I'm going to be …” My cheeks puff up as air escapes my stomach, and I press my hand against my mouth trying to stop what I fear is about to come out next. “I … need … a bucket,” I finally manage to sputter.

“In the closet over there.” Piper points to a beautiful, mahogany cabinet with glass doors. “Make it quick. We're all waiting for you!”

I run over, turn the key that is in the lock and open the cabinet, which is lit from inside. All I can find that even resembles a bucket is some fancy-­looking silver trashcan sitting on the middle shelf. I can't barf in that! What if it's important?

“Hannah!” Patrice yells again. “We are wasting time! Come at once!”

With no other choice, I grab the bucket and run back to join the group.

“Hannah,” Patrice sighs. “I told you, look to the horizon and stay outside in the fresh air. You must find your sea legs before you go back inside again.”

I nod, curling my lips up into an unconvincing smile.

“Fear not, Hannah. After the high-action shots are done, we will move closer to shore where the water is much calmer. That is where we will begin our search for …” Patrice's eyes widen with excitement (I expect for dramatic effect) “… the lost jewels of Queen Isobel de la Isla Grande Hermosa.”

La Isla Grande Hermosa? Where the heck is that?
I'm trying my best to pay attention, but if you've ever been seasick before, you understand that trying to focus on anything, but your stomach is nearly impossible.

“Are you all curious to know the story of how these precious jewels we hope to find on our treasure hunt made it to the bottom of the ocean?”

Everyone nods anxiously except me, of course. I'm not taking my eyes off of that horizon. It's the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.

“The story of Queen Isobel's lost jewels is one of romance, greed, sadness, and death!”

Everyone gasps at the word
death
.

Patrice continues, “About three hundred and fifty years ago, King Ronaldo de la Isla Grande Hermosa asked Lady Isobel de Vanidad, known by all for her great beauty, to marry him.
She refused, saying he was too old, terribly fat, and painfully ugly. Not giving up, he begged her to reconsider. She refused him time and time again, until one day when she heard news that King Ronaldo's fleet of ships, filled to the brim with great riches from the New World, was ready to return home to la Isla Grande Hermosa.
Isobel, realizing that she would be wealthy beyond her wildest dreams, finally agreed to marry the king, but only on the promise that each of his returning ships bring her a chest of jewels unmatched in beauty, and so extraordinary that she would hold the most talked about and envied collection in the history of the world.