Little Lion by Ann Hood

Author:Ann Hood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-01-13T05:00:00+00:00

Stowaways

As Maisie and Felix ran down to the dock, Felix began to worry.

“What about pirates?” he asked his sister. “What about shipwrecks?”

“We’ll worry about all that once we get on that ship,” Maisie said without slowing down.

“But we don’t have any money for tickets,” Felix said, struggling to keep up.

At that, Maisie stopped. “I know,” she said, grinning. “We’re going to stow away.”

“What? No way!” Felix said. He folded his arms across his chest to show her he meant it.

“People do it all the time,” Maisie said.

“Like who?” Felix said, exasperated.

“Like . . . like . . . stowaways,” she said, and with that she took off again toward the docks.

“That’s a ridiculous answer!” Felix called after her.

When she didn’t even pause, Felix started off after her, his chest heavy with worry. Even if he could put aside his fears about the catastrophes that might happen at sea, now that the ships were coming into view, he couldn’t ignore the fact that the only time he ever went on a sailboat, he threw up the entire afternoon.

Old friends of his parents had invited them to their beach house in Connecticut. The weekend had been boring, full of private jokes between his parents and the other couple, late night dinners of food Felix didn’t like—leg of lamb and swordfish and lots of zucchini—and the couple’s baby screaming all the time. Worse, they’d spent that Saturday on a sailboat, a Pearson, the guy had said all braggy—and Felix threw up as soon as they left the dock. He didn’t stop until they got back three hours later. Keep your eye on the horizon, the guy kept telling him. But if you’re seasick and the world is spinning, how are you supposed to do that?

“Maisie,” Felix said, already queasy with anticipation, “remember Connecticut? Remember the Pearson?”

The night was the blackest night he had ever seen, despite the stars glittering high above them. Just the sound of the waves crashing against the docks made him queasy. Felix wondered if he’d ever wanted his own bed more than he did standing there in the darkness.

Maisie stood surveying the ships as if she could figure out which one was headed to Boston.

“Yeah, I remember the Pearson,” she said. “That crabby baby. Talullah.”

“And me throwing up. Remember?”

She turned to him, her eyes clouding with the memory. “Felix,” she said, grabbing both his shoulders firmly, “you have to keep your eye on the horizon. You have to get through this.”

“Are you kidding? For like a month?”

Maisie considered this. “You have to,” she said finally. “Now let’s find that ship.”

Felix watched his sister walk purposefully down the dock and right up to a group of sailors heaving barrels onto a ship. Slowly, he joined her there.

A burly sailor with a red beard and a nose shaped like a turnip pointed toward a large five-masted ship. “The Thunderbolt’s the one, Missy. She’s sailing to America.”

Hearing the name Thunderbolt made Felix’s stomach jump nervously. He hadn’t even considered thunder out there yet.

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