But it does matter to me. I’m already on Captain Thomas’s bad side. I don’t want to do something else wrong and get myself—and Mom—sent home.
When rehearsal starts, I lie on the mattress in the corner of the stage trying to look asleep while simultaneously spying on Neil from the corner of my eye. It’s tricky to see him when he’s offstage, but if I position my head just so, I can barely make out his—
“Briar Rose!” Stefan calls from the front row. He doesn’t seem to care about learning anyone’s name, so he simply refers to us by our character names. “You should be in a dead sleep! Not thrashing around like a dreaming puppy!”
“Sorry,” I call back while everyone stares at me. After only a day, I’m already starting to build up quite a reputation for myself with the cast. I don’t want them to think I’m only here because I’m the cruise director’s daughter. After all, they had to go through actual auditions to get here. But let’s face it: I am only here because I’m the cruise director’s daughter.
The scene continues, and Gemma and Smith come onstage, acting as if they’re totally in love with each other. Well, at least Gemma is acting. Smith is just standing there. Maybe Piggy Ian had a point about Smith only getting cast because of his fancy relations, but he really does look the part. Maybe no one in the audience will care that he has the charisma of a piece of dry toast.
Finally, it’s time for the dwarves’ finale. I keep my eyes open a slit, watching Neil prancing around at the back of the line. His knees look so good in tights. I didn’t even know that was possible!
Then the dwarves prance offstage, and Stefan tells everyone else to clear off. “Let’s run the very last scene of the final show since we’ve never done it before. Briar Rose! Prince Handsome! Pucker up!”
Wait. What? I sit up, suddenly feeling dazed as if I really am coming out of a deep sleep.
“I bet you’ve been practicing in the mirror,” Smith says, making little kissy faces at me.
“We have to kiss onstage?” I whisper, horrified.
“Haven’t you read the script?” Smith asks.
“Um, I haven’t gotten to the end yet.” The truth is, I’ve barely looked at it. With the rush of getting settled here and learning about my new jobs—not to mention double-checking every single thing Mom does—I really haven’t had time.
“On the last night, I kiss Briar Rose, and she awakens from her deep sleep,” Smith explains. Then he gives me a big wink. “Never underestimate the power of a good smooch, am I right?”
I can’t believe this. My first kiss is supposed to happen onstage with the most stuck-up person I’ve ever met? One who thinks of me as a little kid? With Neil (and everyone else) watching?
Stefan marches over, giving us instructions that don’t really make sense. “Be romantic but subdued. This is your big moment so make sure to make it shine, but don’t overact. Let the moment take over, but keep track of your blocking.”
“I don’t have any lines, right?” I ask.
Stefan gives me a withering look. “No, you merely wake up when he kisses you, sit up, and wave to the audience. Do you think you can handle that?”
“Yes.” At least, I hope I can. My palms suddenly start sweating as I have traumatizing flashbacks to my total meltdown in the second grade play. But I refuse to let that happen again, not when so much is riding on things going perfectly for Mom and me. Even if it means letting Smith kiss me. I mean, how bad can it be?
“Good. Let’s run it.” Stefan claps his hands for some reason and marches off.
“Don’t worry,” Smith tells me with a wink. “I made sure to eat an extra mint for you.”
Gross. I flop back on the bed, tempted to cover myself with the blanket and pretend to be dead like Schneewittchen. But then Stefan claps his hands again, and the scene starts.
“Who is this fair maiden?” Smith says in his lulling monotone. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I must have one kiss.”
I hold perfectly still with my eyes closed, dreading what’s coming. I can smell him approaching, like a peppermint cloud. Should I pucker up? Do girls in deep, spell-induced sleeps pucker? I decide to stay frozen.
Smith’s breath hits my face, and then what feels like two slugs mash down on my lips. I almost scream as Smith pulls away.
My eyes fly open, and I scramble to sit up. Is that what kissing is like? Blargh!
“The maiden lives!” Smith says, his monotone suddenly at full volume. “It is truly a happy ending!”
Then he turns to me, and I realize he’s expecting me to do something. Is he gearing up for another kiss? No way! I don’t care if Stefan threatens to throw me overboard. I am never letting those slug lips near me again!
“Wave!” Stefan yells. “Why aren’t you waving?”
Right. My one part in the play.
I look out at the audience and give a limp wave while Smith puts a too-tight arm around my waist. When I try to smile at the audience, I spot a frowning face near the side door. Captain Thomas. He’s holding his spyglass up to his eye, as if he’s trying to spot land on the horizon. Except his pirate contraption isn’t fixed on some distant island. It’s aimed right at me.
Oh no. Did he just see my miserable performance? He already hates me, and now he’s watching me ruin the finale of what’s supposed to be the biggest show of the entire cruise?
“Sorry!” I tell Stefan. “I’ll do better this time!” I cringe at the thought of kissing Smith again, but I have to save face in front of Captain Thomas. He can’t see Lydia’s daughter messing up again.
“Forget it,” Stefan says. “We have more important scenes to run. We’ll just do it during the last show. Think you can handle that?” He’s looking at me as if I’m a total imbecile. Honestly, I’m starting to feel like one.
“I can. I promise.”
As I scurry off the stage, I realize Captain Thomas isn’t pointing his spyglass at me anymore. Instead, he and Piggy Ian seem to be having some sort of debate in the back of the theater. For a second, hope flashes through my chest. Maybe the captain is firing him too! But then I feel awful for thinking it. As annoying as he is, Ian hasn’t done anything that would make me wish he’d lose his job. Still, there’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way.
Smith waltzes up to me in the wings. “I’m happy to help you with your acting skills anytime,” he says before sauntering off. The idea is so ridiculous that I actually stick my tongue out.
As I pull off my wig and drop it on the costume table, I hear a guy clear his throat behind me. I turn to find Neil dawdling in the wings, almost as if he’s waiting to talk to me.
“Hey!” he says. Oh my gosh. He really is here to talk to me!
“Um, hi,” I say, barely above a whisper.
He opens his mouth to reply, but then—
“Ainsley!” someone calls out from the edge of the stage. It’s Katy, dressed in her mermaid costume, as usual, and furiously waving to me. “Quick, follow me.”
I glance at Neil, but he’s already walking away. Ugh.
“Let me guess,” I say as I follow Katy off the stage. “My mom needs my help with something again.”
“Not exactly,” Katy says. “But she’s locked herself in the meat room and won’t come out. Adelina asked me to get you before Captain Thomas finds out and …”
Katy doesn’t need to finish the sentence. We both know what would happen. I don’t wait for her to waddle along beside me. There’s no time for that. Instead, I take off at a run.
Mom, what is it? What happened?”
It took me about five minutes to convince her to even open the door to the cold storage room. Now that I’m in it, I’m really wishing I brought a jacket.
Mom is sitting on an enormous bucket of salad dressing with her head in her hands, hair sticking out through her fingers in wavy spikes. I guess she didn’t take the time to blow-dry it this morning. That’s not a good sign.
After Dad moved out, Mom stopped drying her h
air in the mornings, which I noticed right away because she’s been styling it religiously every day since I can remember. Then she stopped ironing her clothes, so she’d go to work looking as if she’d just rolled out of bed. Then she stopped answering the phone, so I’d have to take down messages and pester her to call people back unless it was easier to do it myself.
After a few months of that, Mom lost her job at the real estate office where she worked. She kept saying she was looking for a new job, but I was the one really looking—and paying bills and cooking meals and doing whatever else she needed me to. If her friend hadn’t called about the cruise ship opening, I don’t know what would have happened. But the minute we got on the ship, Mom’s hair was sleek and straight again, and her clothes were perfectly pressed. Even her shoes were shined. I’d let myself hope that she was back to her old self and that I could be an average kid again.
But maybe it was too good to be true.
“What was I thinking, Ains? I can’t do this job. I’m too out of practice.”
“But we only just started!” I say. “Of course things are going to be a little rough at first. It’ll get better once we get the hang of everything.” I realize that I sound just like my dad used to whenever Mom would start doubting herself. “Did something happen?”
Mom lets out a long sigh and hands me a piece of paper covered in crowded handwriting.
“People aren’t purchasing the photos at Enchanted Reflections,” I read. “No one’s set foot in the Oven Lounge and Nightclub. No vegan entrees at the Lost Children Dining Room.” I flip the paper over and see the writing goes on for another page. “Mom, what is this?”
“The captain wanted to see me this morning,” she says. “He gave me a list of all the things that are already going wrong. And he wants them all resolved by the time we get back to Fort Lauderdale.”
The list suddenly seems to double in weight in my hand. “How are we supposed to do all of this in only five days?”
“Some of them are small fixes, but the big ones he listed can’t be taken care of in so little time!” Mom says. And that’s when I see it, that look of defeat that I saw after Dad moved out, and again after Mom lost her real estate job. Before she started to fall apart.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll figure it out.”
“No, Ains,” she says quietly, taking the list from me and slipping it in her pocket. “It’s not your job. It’s mine. I’ll make it work. Okay?”
She thinks she means it. And honestly, I wish I could believe her. I’d much rather hang out with Katy and the other mermaids and try talking to Neil than help my mom save this sinking ship. But I’m afraid if I don’t help, our fresh start at sea will be over by the end of our first week. Now that I finally have my old mom back, I can’t let her turn into a pajama shut-in again.
“Okay, Mom,” I say. “Things will get better. I promise.”
She gets to her feet and pulls open the door. Just in time too, since my toes are starting to go numb.
“You know what I wish we could do more than anything right now?” she says. “Watch a terrible movie.” She sighs. “I can’t believe we’re missing a whole summer of blockbusters. We’ll have a lot of catching up to do when we get home.”
It might sound weird, but Mom and I love watching disaster movies together. It’s been our thing since I was really little. The movies are always so ridiculous and over-the-top that we laugh through them. Dad would always lock himself in his study during movie nights so he wouldn’t have to listen to us acting out the cheesy dialogue.
“I know! I can’t wait to see the sequel to that one about all the bridges in the world collapsing. What’s it called?” I ask as we head down the corridor.
“A Bridge Two Far,” Mom says in a melodramatic voice. Then she pulls her wild hair into a ponytail. “Do I look okay? I should have blow-dried my hair today. I swear my curls get bigger every time I look at them.”
“You look fine. At least you don’t look like a drowned rat. The humidity is making my hair stringier than ever.”
“At least you can brush through yours,” she says.
“At least yours is an actual color instead of—”
“Blah-brown,” she finishes for me, rolling her eyes like she always does when we have this conversation. Then she gives me a hug. “Thanks, Ains. I’m so glad you’re here with me. You are my rock.”
I pull away. My rock. That’s what she used to call Dad. Mom always said that he was the one who kept her grounded, and I guess now that’s my job. But I don’t feel like anyone’s rock. I barely even feel like a pebble.
* * *
After dropping Mom off at her office so she can pull herself together before her next meeting, I pass Enchanted Reflections, the photo kiosk that was on the captain’s list. It’s where people have their pictures taken in front of silly fairy tale backdrops.
I hover behind a column, watching the guy behind the camera as he tries to get a set of toddler triplets to sit long enough to have their picture taken in front of a cartoony castle. The photographer, whose name is “Mitch!” according to his name tag, is barely holding the camera the right way, and he’s totally at the wrong angle. He’ll probably wind up getting shots of only the kids’ foreheads instead of their faces, and I seriously doubt the parents will want to buy prints of those. No wonder the kiosk is in so much trouble.
Mitch! accidentally drops a lens cap, and it rolls toward my feet. He mutters something under his breath before going to retrieve it. I grab it and hold it out to him.
“Thanks,” he says, giving me a tired smile. One of the triplets lets out an angry scream behind him, and Mitch! sets his jaw and straightens his shoulders as if he’s about to go into battle. I wonder if the exclamation point after his name is a way to remind himself to be excited about his job.
As he turns back to them, I catch his elbow. “Wait,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Um, you might want to angle the camera down. Also, sometimes it helps to lie on your belly with really little kids.” I haven’t done pictures of a lot of children, but I use that technique with small animals and it works really well.
For a second, I’m afraid he’ll be offended that a complete stranger is giving him advice, but he smiles and says, “Thanks. I’ll try that.” Then he goes back and immediately spreads out on his stomach.
I head out to the walking track, hoping it’s still quiet because of the paint smell. Sadly, it’s as crowded here as on the rest of the ship. I never realized before how much I like being alone, but having people around me all the time is bringing out my inner loner. No wonder Mom locked herself in the cold storage room.
As I lean against the railing, some movement in the water catches my eye. I scramble to get my camera out of my pocket. Maybe I’ll get to photograph a dolphin, or even a whale! But when I zoom in with my lens, I realize it’s only a clump of trash floating around in the ocean. Gross.
I sigh and head to the top deck, where people are milling around the pool and bopping to the live music (played by a mariachi band in gnome costumes, for some reason). I’m about to duck inside and go get ready for dinner duty again, before my—gulp—big stage debut tonight, when I notice a supersized mole on an old man’s hairy back.
I cringe at the sight, but I know Alyssa will murder me if I don’t get a shot. I take out my camera, make sure no one is watching, and then quickly snap a couple of pictures.
As I’m shoving the camera back into my pocket, I spot Neil near the pool. My whole body freezes. I stand there staring at him as if moving might scare him away.
He and one of the other dwarves from the show are cleaning up empty cups and used napkins left behind by the people hanging out by the pool. I can’t help noticing how bored he looks, not that I can blame him. I only hope one of the Spies doesn’t catch him looking anything less than thrilled, or he might get into trouble.
As I—let’s face it—spy on him, I can’t help marveling at how cute Neil is. There’s something so confident
about the way he moves, as if he’s not afraid of making a total fool out of himself. I bet he’d never accidentally call Captain Thomas the wrong name to his face.
Neil doesn’t even glance in my direction. You’d think being in the middle of the ocean with a guy would make it easy to get him to notice you, but the ship is so jam-packed with people that I’m probably just another face in the crowd.
If Mom and I don’t figure out a way to make things work here, I might never get a chance to actually talk to him.
The show starts in five minutes, and I’m freaking out. I don’t have any lines—don’t even have to do anything besides pretend to be asleep—but all I can think about is that stupid play in second grade. My parents assured me that I’d never have to set foot onstage again if I didn’t want to, and I’d managed to avoid it ever since. Until now.
How did I let my mom talk me into this?
“Hey, are you okay?” Smith asks, coming up to me.
“I don’t know,” I admit, surprised he actually cares.
“You’re not going to throw up or something, are you?” He takes a step back.
I shake my head, hoping it’s true.
“Okay, in that case, can you move over? You’re kind of blocking my view.”
I blink and realize that I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror. “Oh, sorry.” I shuffle even farther into the corner while Smith plants himself in front of the mirror and starts making kissy faces at his reflection.
“Three minutes!” the stage manager calls, and my breath catches in my chest. I can’t do this. I should make a run for it now and save everyone a lot of embarrassment.
I turn to flee and—thunk!—smack into none other than Piggy Ian again.
“Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?” he cries, tearing off his pig head.
“Me?” I say, rubbing my forehead. “You’re the one who keeps slamming that enormous skull of yours into me. I probably have a concussion thanks to you.”
“Two minutes!” the stage manager calls.
I must look panicked because Ian’s expression suddenly changes. “Hey, are you okay?”
Once Upon a Cruise Page 4
