Voyage (Powerless Nation #2)
Read Voyage (Powerless Nation #2) Online
Authors: Ellisa Barr
Contents
VOYAGE
POWERLESS NATION: BOOK TWO
ELLISA BARR
For my Mom and my Daughter
CHAPTER ONE
S
ENA
WATCHED
SEASONED
PASSENGERS
jockey for position in the boarding line as though trying to get the best seats at a sold out rock concert -- Neil Diamond or Barry Manilow, judging by their average age.
“Did you remember extra batteries for the camera?” she heard a white-haired woman nag her husband. “You know how they overcharge for everything on the ship.”
He patted her shoulder. “Don't worry, dear. Relax and enjoy yourself. I want this to be a trip we never forget.”
"I can't relax if we don't actually board," the woman said, glaring pointedly at Sena's school group.
Sena’s class was causing a delay for everyone embarking on the cruise ship to Alaska, and her teacher, Ms. Friedel, gestured emphatically to a security officer at the foot of the gangplank. With her strident voice and mop of unruly curls, everyone called her Ms. Frizzle or “The Frizz,” behind her back.
Restless students horsed around, a few of the boys shoving each other good-naturedly. Sena noticed a girl point a phone in her direction and snap a photo. Moments later the other girls’ phones beeped and they looked at her out of the corners of their eyes and snickered.
The girl who had taken the photo, Charity Van Buren (Charity. Oh, the irony!), had texted her the night before to tell her they were all going to wear their school uniforms at boarding as a show of school spirit.
Sena had made the socially fatal mistake of believing her.
Sena's phone beeped and she reluctantly looked to assess the damage. Sure enough, it was a picture of herself looking lost and out of place. The photo of a small girl stared back at her with long black hair in two braids, and a secondhand uniform that was too big for her. It made her look even younger than her fifteen years. The text read: “Hope the ship has a kiddie club.”
Sena sighed and wished the line would start moving. Once the cruise began and there were more interesting diversions, maybe her classmates would leave her alone.
The school cruise was a new idea as an alternative to summer camp. Normally teens wouldn’t be allowed to go on a cruise without their parents, but the principal was married to one of the cruise line’s board of directors and they’d agreed that with a high enough ratio of teachers to students, they’d give it a try.
Although the cost was exorbitant, for the majority of families with students at the most elite prep school north of Seattle, the price of the ticket didn’t merit a second thought. Sena's foster family wasn’t well off, but her foster father worked for the school and had pulled some strings to get her the partial scholarship that paid for her ticket.
She’d been thrilled that he’d make such an effort for her until she found out that while she was gone (“out of our hair” were the precise words), her foster parents were taking their
real
kids to Disneyland for a week.
Sena felt a nudge at her shoulder and turned to see Kade McGuire. He was tall and athletic with piercing blue eyes beneath dark brows, and full lips that could curve into the most mesmerizing smile. Sena flushed and Kade pointed ahead of her. The line was moving and she was holding it up.
“Oops, right, sorry,” she said, and scurried forward. Why did she always act like a scared rabbit around him?
A crew member asked to see her ID and after glancing at it said, “Welcome aboard, See-nah.”
“It’s Sena, rhymes with henna,” she muttered under her breath as she was handed a bottle of hand sanitizer and a map of the ship.
Once they were finally aboard, the students and chaperones were directed by another crew member to the section of cabins reserved for the school. Before leaving, he announced that everyone had time to stow their carry-ons and then they’d meet for an emergency safety drill at their muster station.
Sena lagged near the back of the group of students. They were assigned four to a room and she decided to let the other girls choose their bunks first and take whatever was left over.
When she reached her assigned room she approached tentatively, not sure of her welcome. The other girls were too busy complaining to notice her.
“Can you believe this place? The closet in my room is bigger than this.”
“Do you guys see any outlets besides this one? How are we supposed to charge our phones or do our hair?”
“My mom is going to flip out. They promised her I’d have a window.”
Sena glanced inside and for once she agreed with her classmates. The room was miniscule. There were two bunk beds and a tiny bathroom with a single sink and mirror. The closet was more like a cupboard. No tub, no porthole, not even a second bedside table. She slipped inside and climbed to a top bunk.
“I’ll sleep up here,” she offered down to Charity, “and you can have all of the space under the bed for your luggage.”
Charity made a grunting noise that Sena took to mean acceptance, while their roommates bickered over who would get the under bunk space on the other side of the room.
Sena looked around her tiny corner of the ship. There were no cupboards or shelves in which to stash her backpack. The smooth wall was featureless. There wasn’t even a place to put her glasses when she went to sleep.
“Did you guys notice if our muster station was on the way in?” Sena asked, looking over the ship map and the evacuation route.
“Mustard station?” asked Jessica, shoving her carry-on under the narrow bed, evidently the winner of the bunk bed argument.
“Muster station. It’s where we meet in case of emergency.”
Jessica shrugged one spaghetti-strapped shoulder, clearly not interested.
Charity adjusted her make-up in the tiny mirror above the lone bedside table. “What kind of emergency would there be? It’s not the Titanic, you know.”
Sena tucked the safety card in her backpack. "I'm going to go look around. I’ll see you guys at the safety presentation.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Jessica. “Bo-ring.”
“Yeah,” agreed Charity, “my folks made me go to one last summer in Europe. You have to put on a life vest some hairy, old guy probably wore on the last cruise.”
“Ew,” said Paris. “Count me out.”
“Hey wait,” said Charity, giving Sena her full attention. “You can sign in for us. Please? We’ll save you a chair by the pool.”
Charity’s smile was warm and friendly and for a moment Sena almost believed she actually meant it.
“I guess I could, but you guys should really go. What if there’s a test later or something?”
“Whatever,” said Charity, turning away to apply lip color. “Just be cool and do it, okay?”
“Okay,” Sena agreed in a small voice, closing the door softly behind her.
The ship was pulling out from the dock and Sena found a bench where she could watch the Seattle port slip away. She thought about her foster family, the Clarks. They were probably running around, trying to finish packing for their trip to southern California. Although she’d always wanted to go to Disneyland, Alaska was pretty neat too. At least they hadn’t left her with the neighbor and her household of overly-active young children.
A male voice broke into her thoughts. “That’s some view, isn’t it?” A young man in a crew uniform sat on the bench next to her. “You don’t mind do you?”
Sena shook her head and pushed her glasses up.
He went on, “I’m not really supposed to be out here. I’m on duty.” He snickered. “I swear, I can’t say that with a straight face. Do you know how often they use the word ‘duty’ on a ship? There’s shore duty, on duty, off duty.”
“Duty-free,” added Sena with a grin, taking an instant liking to the young man whose nametag said Danny.
His smile matched hers. “That’s a good one. Anyway, I’m forsaking my duties so I could catch one last glimpse of Seattle. You won’t tell on me, right?”
“Last glimpse? We’ll be back in a week.”
“You’ll be back, but I’m staying in Alaska.”
“Wow, really? For good?” Sena thought about what it would be like to leave everything behind and start over from scratch. It sounded like a dream.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m going to try to get a job working in the fish hatcheries for the rest of the summer. I might stick around if I like it.”
He scanned the area and then glanced back at Sena. “I haven’t told my boss I’m jumping ship. I doubt he’ll be surprised though. They keep telling me I won’t last the trip because I’m a spoiled American. Have you noticed that most of the crew is made up of foreigners?”
Sena shook her head.
“It’s true. They work for a lot less than we do and they work way harder. You wouldn’t believe the hours they put me down for. Two weeks straight without a day off and only six hours or so to sleep. They’re crazy.”
“They say you have to be crazy to work in a fish hatchery too.” Her comment surprised both of them and she blushed.
The sailor laughed. “You got me there.” Then he jumped to his feet as another member of the crew approached.
“Danny wasn’t bothering you was he, Miss?”
“Oh no, not at all,” said Sena, thinking quickly. “Actually, I was feeling a little seasick and he helped me find a place to sit down and offered to stay with me until I felt better.”
“Is that so?” The older crewman looked from Sena to Danny. Danny had been waggling his eyebrows at her over the crewman’s shoulder and froze mid-waggle.
“I’m feeling a bit better now,” said Sena, getting to her feet, trying not to smile.
“And I’ve got duties to attend to,” said Danny with a merry look.
Sena choked back her laughter.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, turning to wave as he walked away down the hallway.
Sena waved back, not able to think of a reply until after he’d turned a corner and was out of sight.
Fifteen minutes later a voice over the ship’s PA system announced that it was time for the mandatory safety presentation. Sena looked around when she got to the muster station and wasn’t surprised that her bunkmates weren’t there.
The meeting reminded her of the seatbelt tutorial given at the beginning of flights, only this one focused on life jackets and lifeboats. Afterwards, everyone in attendance had to check in with the key cards to their rooms, and Sena ran into trouble.
The staff person in charge of the roll was keeping a close eye on it, making sure procedure was followed. “I’m sorry, Miss, you can only check in for yourself.”
“My friends were here until now, but they had to leave before they could show you their cards.” Even though Sena hated lying for Charity and her friends, she didn’t want to make any problems for them either.
“Well,” said the staff person with forced cheerfulness, “they can check in when they get back or we’ll send someone down to their room to find them.”