11 Chapter nine

"Thanks so much. Sorry about that," I mutter, grinding my teeth as I tote my backpack, relieved to escape that awkward and faux-polite situation with the middle-aged check-in man, who wasn't being as nice anymore.

When I finally manage to neatly slide our identification documents into my backpack and shoulder it, I nudge Emily. She recoils, exclaiming, "Ow."

I hmph at her. "You shouldn't have taken so long. You have no idea how awkward and embarrassing it was just standing there."

Tasmin may or may not have snapped out of her trance, because she replies, face blank, her mind clearly elsewhere, "You should have made conversation with him." And for some reason I don't think she's talking to me.

Emily nods, pouting and rubbing the spot on her arm where I nudged her. "Yeah! Then maybe he wouldn't have been so sour to us."

I roll my eyes, leaning forward to press the elevator's up button.

While I wait, I guess I should mention my relationship with Charlie.

When I first arrived at my friends' primary school, I didn't want to meet anyone. I wasn't planning on trusting people, because one of the reasons I left my previous school was because of the people there; untrustworthy. And it wasn't my fault when Emily and Tasmin latched themselves onto me, it just happened, and maybe I felt grateful, the tiniest bit, that there really were people who cared about me.

When I realised that their friendship to me was something valuable and a sentimental-keepsake in my heart, I knew I would make a commitment to them. A commitment that would lead me on several involuntary adventures of risk and even danger. A commitment that would lead me to create beautiful memories with them. A commitment that would lead me to talking to an unsuspecting check-in man, who is paid to do his job, not deal with teenagers.

Whether I'm happy or not right now, I found my people. And at the time I told myself that I wouldn't need anyone else. That they were enough. More than enough. To this day I still make it clear that my best friends are people who will be the only members of my family, other than, well, my family.

But I may or may not have made one more friend.

Okay, no, I lied.

Charlie became my rival in year five. I guess I could say it started when he unexpectedly wished me good luck at the swimming carnival.

I had been competing in the swimming carnival ever since I could remember, and years of practice has always made winning easy – not to brag or anything. The year five carnival just felt like another heat that my training would pay off for.

There I was, in my one-piece swimming suit, on my tip-toes, stretching. I had hopped in nearly a minute earlier and I felt super refreshed. The sun on my skin felt deliciously warm, and I longingly wanted to dip my toes into the pool again.

"HEAT ONE – GIRLS – YEARS TEN TO ELEVEN!" the loud speakers blared, cueing me.

I made a final wave to Tasmin and Emily, both in the process of getting sunscreen on every unnecessary spot on their body, and stalked my way to the front of the pool to line up. On my way I heard a voice.

"Good luck."

Young Charlie, not as tall, but still tall for his age, standing in the bleachers, hands on his hips and a big, proud smile on his face like he ran the place.

I was tempted to ignore him, but I think he noticed I wouldn't reply and said, "Bet you can't beat my fastest time."

Hmm. "Maybe I can."

Smile.

Swim.

I beat his time.

At the end of that same year I ran for school captain, and so did he. He wished me good luck before my speech, and I guess that pisses me off a little, because I think my speech sounded quite threatening, not persuasive, now that I think about it.

And of course Charlie would make a speech with jokes, because that's how you get people's attention in this world. And of course he won, making school captain, while I trailed behind as vice.

Year six brought the class spelling bee, which was by far one of my favourite parts of year six, and was another time when Charlie and I went head-to-head.

We both thought only one had to win, but when the spelling bee winnowed our classmates down to just two, me and him, we were super ready for a final, brutal round to pick the loser off. The teacher had to jump between us to stop us from chucking word bombs at each other, and when we learned that we didn't have to have another round, we were both embarrassed beyond comparison.

After the school spelling bee came the district competition, and it was him and I representing our school. Thrilling and ecstatic that spelling bee was, mind-provoking too. And we worked so well as a team, and I wouldn't admit it at the time, but I was sure that we were the winners.

We came second.

I blame Charlie for that.

We didn't exactly end on any good or bad terms, so seeing him again is the same feeling as diving into a pool full of bitter-sweet memories.

The elevator light lights up, and Tasmin, Emily and I slide inside, pressing our rather hot backs against the coolness of the walls.

"Ahhh," we all sigh in unison.

The elevator dings so we file out and half-walk-half-jog up through the undulating tunnel to the entrance of the cruise ship. In return for our tickets we're given our personalised ID cards, which we'll now use to access our room, purchase items, participate in cruise ship activities, and to get off and on the ship.

"How many cruises have you been on now, Taz?" Emily asks Tasmin as we slip our lanyards over our heads.

"I'm not sure. Well, there was one when I was seven, then we went on one a year later, then the year after we…"

She trails off as we emerge on Deck five, a beautifully-decorated, grand-looking lobby, with jazz music playing, gold-rimmed staircases, and the white tiles as reflective as a brand new mirror. I understand why Tasmin can't finish her sentence; everything is so magical.

Already, people are chilling in the lounge with coffees and fancy slices of cake that look like slices of absolute heaven.

In that moment, it doesn't matter how many cruise ships Tasmin has been on, this one will by far be the best, for her, and for the rest of us.

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