I don't own any of the Maximum Ride characters, just the plot of this story :)))
For some reason or another, I'd always thought that I'd enjoy going on a cruise. The idea of relaxing on a boat deck somewhere, lounging on a lawn chair, letting my skin absorb the sun's rays sounded pleasant, perfect even.
Boy was I wrong.
As it turns out, I hate boats. More specifically, I hate being on them. And that's hate with a capital h, a, t, and e. What was there to like? It was too cramped, there was too much rocking, the roof was leaky, the unpleasant smell of the restrooms followed you wherever you went, and oh yeah, not to mention that at any moment the ocean could swallow the whole boat with one giant wave.
I tried to focus on the fact that we'd reach port in two days. Two days. Then I'd be back on solid ground. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I flushed the toilet. That was the third time I had been sea sick today. With a sigh I washed my hands and made my way back to the sleeping quarters. This boat had three sets; one was used by the girls, another by the boys, and the last by the crew. There was also a small kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and a control room. If you are getting the impression that this boat, the Seahawk, was anything but small, then you are sadly mistaken.
Unfortunately.
The only upside to this rinky-dink boat was the company. Well, most of it anyway. As I sat down my twin sister Maya looked at me.
"Still sea sick, Max?" she asked knowingly.
"So it would seem," I grumbled.
"There, there, land legs," she said patting my knee, "it won't be that much longer. Nudge was just telling me what she thinks the new orphanage will be like."
That's right, orphanage. I'll let that sink in for a moment. This was no outing or cruise or vacation. We were moving from our quaint orphanage in South Carolina to an orphanage in South America.
Nudge (as we called her because she was impossible to wake up in the morning, no matter how many times you nudged her) smiled brightly. I couldn't help but smile back as she rambled on and on excitedly about what the new orphanage would look like, whether we would have our own rooms or not, if the boys would be in the same building as us or not, and the like. Not even the cramped boat could cramp her spirit. As I watched Nudge's legs dangle back and forth excitedly over the edge of the bed facing mine I was glad we had put Ariel on the top bunk. Angel, as we more commonly referred to her because she was so sweet, lay on her stomach playing with her stuffed bear, Celeste. I wished I could be as optimistic as bubbly Nudge or as carefree as young Angel.
I admit it.
I, Maxine Ride, or Maximum as I called myself, was terrified.
Moving to another city or state was one thing, but moving to another continent!? That was a whole other monster. There were way too many unknowns for my liking, and a terrible boat journey didn't exactly ease my worries. Did I mention it was raining? My gaze shifted to the port window to the right of Nudge's head. I was hard to discern the darkness of the sea to the darkness of the sky. As if on cue, with every rumble of thunder, a wave crashed into the boat. Nudge didn't seem to notice though, as she contemplated to me whether the new orphanage would have a flowerbed or not.
"Girls," said Ms. Walker in that no-nonsense, adult voice, "it is time for bed".
Anne Walker was the head mistress if you will, of the girls' orphanage. She was in charge of things like enforcing a bedtime, making sure we got up for school, getting us to eat our vegetables, and the like. We liked Anne (we weren't actually allowed to call her that to her face), we really did but . . . the woman did not know the meaning of fun. I for one was convinced that she wouldn't know fun if it came up and slapped her then danced around throwing confetti at her sensible blouse and pencil skirt.
Nudge's voice died mid-sentence. "Okay," she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out.
"Night, Sis," Maya said climbing up onto her bed above mine.
"Night," I replied not taking my eyes off the growing storm outside.
Once everyone had settled under the covers Anne alone, stood, hovering by the light switch. "Goodnight girls. See you in the morning. No talking," she said sternly, but not without love.
There was a chorus of "goodnight" and one muttered "oh, for goodness sake" – who I strongly suspected was Lisa – and then darkness. The sky roared and the ocean roared back with the crashing of waves as if to not be showed up. I rolled over to face the wall. It was doubtful that it would be a good night.