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Thirty-One

Stella

In my opinion, among the few things that feel appropriate after a day like the one we’ve just had, getting extremely drunk tops the list. Okay, maybe not everyone’s list. Zoe and Gus, for instance, seem to be interested in a different way to celebrate life, and after dinner they head down to the room where they’re bunking while the rest of us stay behind.

Zoe presses her forehead to mine, and then she does the same to Teddy.

“No funny business,” she says. “I’m already going gray early. I don’t need any help from your shenanigans.”

Teddy flashes a grin. “Scout’s honor, madam. We’ll leave the funny business to you guys and we’ll stay here and be very, very responsible.”

“See, it’s the two very s that I find concerning.”

“You’re off-duty now, mama,” Gus says, kissing her hair and pulling her away. “Let the large children take care of themselves.” She smiles up at him. But then he glares back at us. “Stay away from the deck rails, capisce?”

“Aye, aye,” Ted says.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Huck says. “I’m fully invested in safety.”

Teddy waits for them to leave and then crosses the galley. He pulls out a bottle of rum and three cups. “I’m fully invested in getting smashed,” he says. He pours the rum into two cups and hands one to me and one to Huck before filling his own to the brim.

I raise my glass. “To living, so we can search another day.”

Huck hesitates but clinks his cup against mine.

Teddy does a cursory lift and then swigs down half his rum.

Huck and I sip while we look at the pictures of the grappling hook that he and Gus found and talk about what it means.

It is a match for some other similar finds from the time period of the 1715 treasure fleet, which is a good sign that it might be from our ship.

It occurs to me that based on discovering a brass pin and a grappling hook, tomorrow could be the day that we find the motherlode.

It doesn’t feel real. I know how close we were to not making it out today, but I try to force it out of my mind.

Across from us, Ted fills his cup again.

“Let’s play a game,” he says.

“Sure, what should we play?” Huck asks.

“Two truths and a lie?” I suggest.

“Why not?” Ted says. “Ladies first. If we guess correctly, you have to drink. If one of us guesses wrong, that person drinks.”

“This feels like it could go very badly for me,” Huck says. “You guys know everything about each other. My information is either out of date or…”

“I’ll try to be fair,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear what he has to say about me. I think of what I should pick. It’s an easy enough task. Two things about me that are true and one that isn’t. Of course, the statements that come to mind are things I will never admit to anyone.

Huck Sullivan broke my heart. Truth.

Even though he’s a heartbreaker, he still looks really good right now. Truth.

If he were to reach over and pull me in for a kiss, I would stop him.

Lie.

I shake my head and take a long pull of rum. My cheeks warm.

“Go, Stella,” Ted says impatiently. “Otherwise I’m calling delay of game and you have to drink.”

I pick things from my childhood to even the playing field. My first word was cat. True. I once stole a Jesus figurine from a souvenir shop when I was a toddler. True. I learned how to read ocean maps when I was four. Lie. I was six, but I learned fast.

Teddy guessed my first word was the lie.

I’d used his knowledge of me against him.

Mom took Skipper the orange tabby with her when she left, so for years, I’ve avoided feline reminders.

My friends just assume I don’t like them.

Skipper used to curl up in a ball next to my face when I was little.

His soft fur tickled my nose, just like the little kitten I’d almost adopted after Iceland.

Huck got the lie.

Teddy and I toast and take our punishment.

“Weren’t you just bitching and moaning about how the odds were against you? How’d you get that?” Ted says. “And why do you look so smug? You only know the stealing thing was true because I told you she was a little thief.”

“Teddy,” I say, growing irritated, “stop giving Huck a hard time. It’s your turn.”

“Alright, then. It’s on. You guys will never get these. I secretly want a penguin as a pet, I cried after losing the second-grade spelling bee, I’ve never been in love.”

“Penguin’s the lie,” Huck says immediately. “You don’t like the way they waddle; you told me that once when we watched Happy Feet while you were high.”

“Maybe I got past that, dude?” Ted says. “Stell, is that your vote?”

I turn my glass, weighing everything I know about Ted.

“All of these could be true. I seem to remember you spending extra time by the penguins that last time we were at the zoo. And of course, I buy that you’ve never been in love…

in lust, maybe. Definitely, but not sure about love.

I guess that you wouldn’t have given a shit about the spelling bee, not even in second grade.

That or you did something obnoxious and won it. ”

“Smart girl,” Ted tells me, but his voice is flat. He takes a long drink and then tops off his cup.

Huck takes his shot since he lost. “I guess it’s my turn now.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “This is harder than I thought.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Just pick random things.”

Do I want him to say something about me, about us? No. I’ve already been fooled by that lie.

“Or don’t,” Teddy says.

Huck nods. “Okay. I have a pet snail. I did Irish dancing from ages four till twelve. I don’t ride the subway.”

“It’s the subway,” Ted says immediately. “New York equals subways. It’s not even hard. And of course, we know that you owe us an official Riverdance across this kitchen now in addition to having to drink.”

I watch Huck’s expression twist and then go back to normal. He turns to me, waiting for my answer.

“Is it the snail?” I ask.

Huck smiles tightly; his nod is almost imperceptible. Across from us, Teddy empties the rest of the contents of the rum bottle into his cup and then does some kind of jig across the galley for a fresh bottle. He seems to have forgotten the rules of when he needs to drink.

“How did you know?” Huck asks quietly.

I shrug. The rum has me feeling warm, with softened edges. “You seem like a man that wouldn’t have a pet. Too much responsibility.”

“Ouch,” he says. “Actually, I have two cats—Lord Whiskerpants and Mewowzer. My agent is watching them while I’m away.”

“Glad to hear you didn’t just leave them behind.”

Huck winces a little and I immediately regret the statement. I’m not supposed to care about this anymore, not after all this time. Besides, I am the one who said we should leave the past in the past, and I don’t get anything from his displeasure.

Teddy slams his mug down. “Are you guys cheating over there? I’m over this game. It’s dull. We should do something fun. Like strip poker. No, I know—truth or dare,” Ted says.

“No,” Huck and I chorus. At least we agree on this.

“I pick dare,” Teddy says, ignoring us.

“I think you’ve had enough dares for today, pal,” Huck says.

“In fact, I think you’ve had enough altogether.

” He reaches out for the rum bottle, but Teddy snatches it away.

Even drunk, his reflexes are intact. He narrows his eyes and locks them on Huck as he shifts back and forth, evading him, and I can’t tell if this is all in fun or if they’re about to tear each other apart like sharks.

“What about your conversation questions?” I shout. “The ones from Iceland.”

It takes a moment for Huck to understand. “Yeah, okay. We still have, like, thirty left.”

“What conversation questions?” Teddy asks. He doesn’t like being on the outside.

“I guess you could call it a game, it’s just a bunch of random questions,” Huck says.

“If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, Ted, who would it be?” I ask, borrowing the first question that Huck asked me at the pizza place.

“We just had dinner, Stella. I’m good.” Teddy’s sounding more like he did in South Carolina when Huck and I had to tuck him into bed; he talks like his mouth is full of gauze.

“Have some water,” I say.

“I’m not thirsty, I’m fabulous.”

“How about this, Ted?” Huck interjects. “If you were going to live until you were ninety and could either keep your mind at age thirty or your body, which would it be?”

“Ha, easy. My body.” Teddy whips off his shirt as evidence and whirls it around his head.

He goes back to his jig, then does a jump turn and shakes his ass at us.

I’m fifty-fifty on whether he’s about to flash it at us.

“You’d want to keep your mind, right, Sully?

I get it. That beautiful mind of yours. Everybody loves it.

They pay thirty bucks for hardcover copies.

Stella did and she’s broke. But she bought it and hid it in her purse.

And why? It’s not like you can do this.” Teddy initiates a motion that can only be described as wild gyrations.

I have to put a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter.

It would only encourage him, and at this point he is very close to muscle-pulling territory.

“You win, bud,” Huck says. “My body can’t do that.”

Why this makes me think of the multitudes of other amazing things Huck’s body can do, I’m not sure. He catches my eye. “I guess I should stick with my mind and let my body succumb to the relentless march of time.”

“Look at him getting all literary and shit,” Ted says. “He knows he can’t compete. Holy shit, guys, you know what we need right now?”

“A nap?” I say.