Chapter One:

I hate flying. But I hate sailing too. As I looked up the long gangplank to the S.S. Green Lake I felt my stomach turn flip-flops. But the line of eager vacationers was shoving me very hard so I had to stumble up the gangplank eventually. Why couldn't someone else have won that dumb cruise? Why couldn't someone else have a pushy mother who was determined to see her daughter have fun at sea?

"Name?" asked the stuffy porter at the top of the stairs. His nose was very pointed and it was stuck up in the air like it had detected a very disgusting scent.

"Geneva Robinson," I sighed.

"Ah!" the porter grinned, suddenly very friendly. "You're the winner of the drawing, are you not? Right this way!" He waved for another snooty porter to take his place as he picked up my heavy, waterproof suitcase and led me up another flight of stairs.

Shipwreck horror stories flashed before my mind. Suppose we hit an iceberg like the Titanic and there weren't enough life boats. Suppose some kind of projectile hit the side of the boat like the Lusitania and blew it to smithereens. Suppose a strong wind capsized the ship like the Mary Rose. Suppose a giant squid attacked like it attacked that submarine in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea! I blinked, trying to get the thoughts out of my head.

"Here we are," the porter smiled as we came to a large, white door. A brass plaque informed me that the door led to room 226. The porter inserted a small key into the lock on the door and the door swung open. I peeked into the room and despite my paranoia about sinking, I was impressed with the quality.

Everything in the room was white as snow except for everything metal, which was made of beautiful brass. The bedspread was white and lacy, the carpet was white and plushy, the walls were white and glossy, and the furniture was white and smooth. The doorknobs were brass, the frames around the mirrors were brass, and the head board on the bed was brass. I slowly walked in, the porter following me.

"Is everything to your liking, Miss Robinson?" the porter asked nicely. My mouth hung open and, in retrospect, I'm sure I looked just like a dead fish.

"It…It's perfect," I breathed. "It's so beautiful."

"Beautiful room for a beautiful young lady," the porter shrugged, a little smirk plastered across his face. He set my suitcase on my bed and waved goodbye after I had given him a quarter for his services. "Dinner is at five o'clock on the third floor," were his parting words.

(-)(-)(-)

Time seemed to fly very quickly. Soon it was nearing five o'clock. I took a quick shower in my (white and brass) private bathroom and started the daunting task of picking out my outfit for the night. By porter buddy had come back to tell me that there would be dancing, so I needed to pick something fun.

"Out of all the closets in all the world," I groaned as I opened my suitcase, "I had to have the one my mother stocked." My mother's fashion sense was hardly hip. Thankfully, my closet was mostly filled with two-piece outfits so I could mix and match. I picked out a bright pink skirt with a blue-and-green plaid pattern and a pink, button-up, puffy-sleeved blouse. Slipping on my pink pumps, I slipped out of my door and locked it safely behind me. "Time to move it out," I smiled lightly.

The third floor was the one above mine so I only had to climb one flight of stairs. The room on the third floor was very large because it was a community room. The flooring was tile and tables draped with white cloths lined the walls in a large circle. This left the rest of the floor for dancing. A large stage was positioned at the back of the room where there was a small gap in the line of tables.

"Mademoiselle," a maitre d' with a ridiculously long, handlebar mustache greeted me as I walked in, "you look ravishing. Might I show you to your table?" I nodded, blushing. Was all the staff on this boat horribly flirtatious? The headwaiter led me to a table close to the stage and seated me. "We will have your meal out in a moment, Mademoiselle." He bowed and left to seat more people, who were pouring in by the boatload by now.

My eyes wandered around the room, from the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling, to the fancy patterns of palm trees and pearls on the wallpaper, to the band which was now setting up onstage. When I caught sight of the band, I practically froze there, mesmerized.

I had seen these guys somewhere before! They played at the Vincent Van Go-Go back in Los Angeles! Fancy meeting them on a cruise, I thought. Three of the four musicians wore black tuxedos with black bowties. One of the ones clad in black had a green wool hat perched on his head and a small wave of hair leaning out onto his forehead. The tall man was busy looking at some sheet music. The one not wearing a black tux wore a red-patterned suit, also with a black bowtie. This one was incredibly short and was shaking a tambourine in an attempt to "warm up." The one with sandy-blonde hair was tuning his bass guitar with a small smile on his face like he was enjoying every second of setup. Finally, the drummer, who looked incredibly awkward in his tux, was twirling his drumsticks nervously.

"Mademoiselle?" the waiter asked. I snapped my attention back to the man holding a notepad.

"Sorry," I blushed.

"Oh, no, no," the waiter shrugged. "I am the one to blame. I'll come back when you are ready to order."

"No," I said quickly. "I'm ready. I'll have the…Well…Bring me what you would enjoy having." The waiter smirked and looked over at the band.

"Distracted by handsome young boys?" he asked slyly. I blushed and looked at my feet.

"A little," I giggled nervously. The waiter laughed and walked away, scribbling something on his notepad, most likely my dinner. I hoped he had the same kind of taste that I did.