Moby Clique (20 page)

“I hate to be a wet blanket, but could we focus on the escape part of the plan?” Samir asks.

“Maybe we can find something in here to cut the ropes with?” I ask.

“The only thing I see in here is gunpowder and whiskey,” Ryan says, pointing to the barrels. “And maybe some stale crackers.”

It’s true that our surroundings are pretty bleak. Out our little round window, the sky seems to be getting darker, too. It looks like a storm is coming, which would explain why the floor beneath our feet seems to be swaying a little more forcefully than when we started this little trip. And the lanterns hooked into the ceiling are swinging back and forth. Our chairs, which aren’t tied to anything except each other, start to slide a little.

“Whoa, did you do that?” I ask Samir.

“No. Did you?” he asks me.

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I’d done it,” I point out.

“Fair point,” he says.

“Somebody better do something,” Parker says. “I am not going out to sea. I get seasick.”

“Um, guys, I think the wind is picking up,” Blade says. “The waves are, too.”

“We all have to work together,” Ryan says, taking charge. You do have to admire his cool head in the face of what’s likely to be total disaster. “If we all move together as one, maybe we can get closer to the stairs. I think there’s a latch near the door. Maybe we could use it to cut the ropes.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, our chairs slide even more, this time so much that I nearly topple into a barrel of gunpowder. Above our heads, a lantern swings dangerously high on its hook, sending darting shadows across the cargo hold. I hear shouting above deck.

“Let’s move together, toward the staircase, on three,” Ryan says.

We all struggle even harder against our ropes. Suddenly, the ship lurches violently to one side and our chairs topple over. Samir, Ryan, and Parker hit the deck hard with their shoulders. Blade and I are half-suspended in the air in our giant chair circle.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask.

“Easy for you to ask, given you’re on top,” Samir says. He’s pinned to the ground with Ryan and Parker. Ryan grunts that he’s okay. Parker shouts to all of us to get up and off her.

The ship lurches back the other way, sending us sliding on our sides back to our former position. The sudden change in direction knocks the lantern above our heads off its hook and onto the ground, where it bounces once, then rolls toward us, its safety latch flying open and its wick exposed just a few feet from us.

“That’s not good,” I say, noticing that the open flame is dangerously close to the barrels of gunpowder and whiskey all around us.

“Do you have any fire extinguisher spells there, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Samir asks Blade.

“Do I
look
like Melissa Joan Hart to you?” Blade spits. “Now, shut up and blow!”

Frantically, we start blowing in the direction of the lantern, hoping to put it out, but it’s too far away.

“We’ve got to get closer,” Ryan says. All together we try to wiggle our way closer, trying to kick against our ropes. But it’s slow going, especially since Parker doesn’t know how to work as part of a team. Her every movement seems to be going against the grain.

“Parker! Move with us!” I shout.

“I am!” she snaps back.

The flame grows bigger in front of our eyes, then the ship careens again to one side, sending the lantern rolling straight into a nearby burlap bag. The fire licks at the edges and it starts to smoke. Just inches from the sack, there’s a wooden barrel full of black powder.

“Tell me that’s not gunpowder,” I say.

“And since when do we ever get a break? You know it’s going to have the gunpowder,” Samir says.

Right. Of course it is.

Twenty-five

“Blow harder!” Blade shouts
at us, even though it’s becoming pretty clear that we’re not really doing much to stop the flames.

“You know, that sounds kind of dirty,” Samir says.

“Just blow, perv!” Parker snaps.

“There’s a little sawdust down here,” Ryan says. “I’ll try to kick some on the flames. Parker! Help me!”

“I’m trying!” she huffs. “I’m tied up, or didn’t you notice?”

Frantically, we all work to stop the fire, but it’s no use. There’s not enough sawdust to suffocate the fire and blowing on it does absolutely no good. We watch helplessly as the fire travels up the burlap sack, getting even closer to the barrel of gunpowder sitting nearby.

Ryan struggles against the ropes, tugging and pulling with all his might.

“Fire! Fire!” Samir shouts. “Somebody help!”

“I don’t think anyone is going to hear us,” Blade says.

She’s probably right. There is a huge storm outside
and
there’s a giant whale attacking the ship. And yet, over the crackling sound of the fire, the lurching of the ship, and Samir’s cries for help, I hear someone calling my name. It’s faint at first, then it gets louder.

“Here! I’m in here!”

Before I know it, the door has swung open and there’s a shadow of a figure standing there. A figure that looks a lot like…

“Heathcliff?” I ask, still not sure if I can believe my eyes.

It sure looks like him. Broad shoulders, dark, unreadable eyes, and his longish black hair that’s wet from the storm outside and sticking to his forehead in curly clumps.

Relief floods over me. He didn’t get zapped back to
Wuthering Heights.
He’s here. He’s really here!

He sweeps in and without hesitating, stomps on the fire with his boots. Then he suffocates the remaining flames with the wet Bard blazer he whips off his back. I can see the outline of his broad shoulders through his shirt. He wipes sweat and rain from his brow as he stomps the last flicker of a spark underneath his heel.

“But I thought you left,” I manage to stutter. “Forever.”

“Yeah, you were totally gone,” Blade says.

“Poof! Into thin air,” Samir adds. When Heathcliff frowns at him, Samir is quick to add, “Not, of course, that we’re sorry to see you survived. I mean, obviously.”

Ryan gives Heathcliff a long look, but says nothing.

“Whatever,” Parker snaps. “Will you just untie us already? You won’t believe what these losers have been saying about you. They think you’re a fictional character.”

Heathcliff says nothing, just goes about untying us silently.

“I mean, that’s crazy. Tell them it’s crazy,” Parker says.

Heathcliff doesn’t answer her and Parker starts to look a little unsettled.

“So are you going to tell us what the heck happened, or what?” Blade asks.

“I don’t know,” Heathcliff says, shrugging. “I fell into a boat tied along the side of the ship. I sat there thinking that I really didn’t want to go back to
Wuthering Heights,
and I kept thinking about you.”

He stares at me as he says this.

“And so I stayed,” he adds, whipping the last bit of rope around my legs free.

Immediately, I spring up and throw my arms around him, tears blurring my vision.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Ryan interrupts. There’s jealousy in his voice, and annoyance. If Parker notices, she doesn’t let on. She’s still trying to process the fact that Heathcliff is fictional. Heathcliff is not the kind of guy to make something like that up or to go along with a joke. She’s clearly uneasy now. As I watch, she actually reaches up and touches Heathcliff’s sleeve, as if to make sure he’s actually real.

“Um, yeah,” Samir says. “Could you guys save the romantic reunion for some other time? We’ve got a world to save and I’m still tied up here,” Samir says, holding up his hands.

“Ditto,” Blade says, raising hers.

No sooner than Heathcliff unties Blade and Samir, the ship lurches violently to one side again, sending all of us sprawling. I fall to the ground, landing hard on my knees. A barrel of gunpowder comes loose from its moorings and starts to roll straight for my head. I curl up in a protective ball, but Heathcliff is there, putting his body in between me and the barrel. It hits him hard, but he stops it.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Fine,” he groans, holding his side.

The ship lurches again, but we all manage to keep our footing. Ryan helps steady Parker.

“If I get out of this alive, I’m never speaking to my parents again,” Parker says. “I can’t believe they sent me here. They were supposed to get references about this place!”

“Let’s get out of here before something else catches fire,” Samir says.

He heads for the stairs and the rest of us follow, even as the boat rocks violently from side to side. Up above us, the once blue sky is now dark and menacing, with lightning flashing in the dark clouds. The wind has picked up and whips through the sails, snapping them hard against their restraining ropes. Water sprays up from the choppy waves and I don’t see land. Where it should be is blanketed with a thick fog.

Ryan helps Parker up the stairs. She still has a sprained ankle and is limping.

“I’m also going to sue,” Parker says, mumbling a little. “I’m
still
going to sue. Definitely. I’ll sue Bard, first, and then maybe my parents, second, but I’m going to sue. Oh, yes. For sure.”

Parker sounds like she might be losing it.

“Where in hell are we?” Blade demands, bringing our attention back to the problem at hand.

We’ve somehow made it out to sea. Was Ms. P right? Is it possible to escape purgatory?

“Miranda!” I hear Blade shout behind me. I look back. She’s pointing to the front of the ship. I look up and see Ms. P there with my sister. Ms. P is standing on the railing, a little like Leonardo DiCaprio in
Titantic.
She’s holding her hands wide, as if trying to embrace the whale. My sister is standing next to her, holding the magical copy of
Moby-Dick
and reading from it.

That’s how Ms. P is conjuring up characters as big as the whale and the ship full of sailors. By reading from the book, my sister can fully open the dimensions between reality and fiction. She’s the key to everything. Just like I was when Emily Brontë hatched a similar plan last year.

I’ve got to get that copy of
Moby-Dick
. Without it, Ms. P will be powerless and we can send Ahab and his crew back to where they came from.

I try to make my way over to Ms. P and Lindsay, but the ship lurches hard to the right, slamming me into the railing. Just when I think I have my footing, I lose it again. It’s like trying to walk in a funhouse, I just can’t seem to make any forward progress.

“Lindsay!” I shout to try to get her attention, but she can’t hear me over the gale-force winds.

Heathcliff, who’s stronger than I am, grabs hold of the railing and holds his other arm out to me. I grab it, and together we move forward steadily.

Nearby, I see Ahab and a group of his crew members scramble into a small boat. For a minute, I think they’re abandoning the ship, but then I realize they’re all carrying harpoons. They’re going to try to hunt Moby Dick in the storm. They’re insane.

Ahab orders his men to lower the boat, which they do. I don’t have time to bother with them. I fix my eyes on Lindsay and manage to make steady progress to her. Heathcliff is by my side, moving with me.

“Lindsay! You’re going to get us all killed!” I shout at her. She turns, eyeing me warily. Ms. P whips around, too. “Give me the book.”

“Don’t listen to her, Lindsay,” she tells my sister. “She’s just jealous. Jealous of you and your power.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Linds,” I say. “You could end the world as we know it. You’ll kill us, Mom and Dad, everybody.”

I feel Heathcliff beside me, ready to spring. Blade and Samir walk cautiously forward. Ryan is busy holding up Parker, who is still clutching at him and mumbling.

“Don’t come any closer!” Ms. P calls, holding out the copy of
To the Lighthouse
over the choppy ocean waves. It’s Ms. W’s book. If she destroys it, she’ll destroy Ms. W.

We freeze.

Lindsay looks unsure suddenly. “Are they right?” she asks Ms. P. “Could we kill everybody? I mean, do you know for sure?”

“You’re going to listen to them?” Ms. P sputters.

“After all the time they’ve ignored you? Taken advantage of you?”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Lindsay says. For once, I’m glad she’s got a know-it-all attitude.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ryan gently put Parker down on the deck. She sits there, cross-legged, leaning against the railing of the ship, silent. She looks a little dazed.

Ryan, meanwhile, tries to maneuver closer to Ms. P, sneaking over to her blind spot. Secretly, I cheer him on.

“I told you not to worry about it,” Ms. P says, more sternly now.

“She told you not to worry about it because you’ll be dead,” Blade points out. “We all will be.”

“It’s true,” I say, hoping to hold Ms. P’s attention long enough for Ryan to get to her. “Tell her the truth, Ms. P.”

But Ms. P isn’t listening. She’s caught sight of Ryan and she whirls around on him. With a flick of her wrist, she sends him soaring up off the deck and over the side of the ship. We all watch in amazement as he’s flung into the churning sea.

“Ryan!” Lindsay shouts, louder than any of us. “No!”

Ms. P seems to realize her mistake. She was acting on protective instinct, but she’s accidentally sent Lindsay’s bargaining chip overboard. Lindsay now turns on Ms. P with a fury. “You bring him back!” Her face is red and I recognize a full-fledged temper tantrum coming. Ms. P senses this, too, and turns to look over the deck, searching for Ryan, but the waves are so choppy she can’t see him. She can’t levitate what she can’t see.

I hope Ryan is okay, but the sea is stormy and I don’t even see his head bobbing in the water. He’s strong, though, and a good swimmer. He told me he used to lifeguard for a couple of summers back home.

Lindsay closes her copy of
Moby-Dick
and hangs it over the side of the ship.

“Save him, now, or I drop this book!” Lindsay stomps her foot to show she’s serious.

Just then, Ryan’s head pops up in a wave about twenty feet from the boat. Ms. P sees him, too, and reaches out her arm. He’s suddenly floating above the water, dripping wet and coughing.