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CHAPTER 21
Sitting in my reading chair, knees to chest, I haven’t yet showered to wash the salt off my skin. After my adventure on the high seas, I should be in bed, fast asleep.
But if I could even doze off, all I’d dream about is how I paddled out to the Dark Seas, challenged the captain to a game of pineapple poker, and lived to tell the tale.
Oh, and I won.
But yeah, it was stupid because no one knew I was out there. They could’ve made me walk the plank—yes, there was a plank—and no one would’ve known.
A terrible thought seizes me. I would’ve had the same story as Magnus’s grandmother, the one whose ring we found. The ring that probably isn’t in Magnus’s pocket anymore.
He’s made it clear that our relationship ran its course. He’s done with me, with us. I don’t know which is worse, a big, dramatic breakup resulting in a viral video or stone-cold silence. More accurately, I should say he’s been all business lately. No pleasure. No smiles. Nothing.
Legs pulled up to my chest, I give myself a little hug. A hug I would’ve liked from Magnus once I was safe on land.
Upon a brief reflection, paddling out to the ship was dangerous and immature of me, but I wanted to show Magnus that I am strong. Stronger than he thinks. Strong enough to withstand life’s challenges.
My phone beeps with a text—the Coconut Wireless probably got word and wants a statement that I’m okay.
To my surprise, it’s Magnus.
MM: Remember the first text you sent to me?
Me: Yeah.
How could I forget the mortifying autocorrect? Even though I recently spent a few hours on the ocean, my reply is dry. So are my eyes. I could be sad, mad, or in between, but I feel nothing. Just emptiness.
My phone beeps again. There’s no reason for him to rub in that mortifying autocorrect.
MM: I should’ve said yes.
Me: Yes to what?
I have to admit, I’m confused. If he’s talking about yes to me taking the bed in the hotel room, or eating cake, or us... He changed his mind because all I’ve been feeling from him are big, fat no’s.
The little gray bubbles indicating he’s replying blink at the bottom of our message thread. Madame lifts onto her spindly legs and lets out a throaty growl. General barks twice in warning.
I listen carefully, suddenly afraid the sailors from the Dark Seas are coming after me. I keep my phone on, ready to call for help.
Someone knocks on the door. I click off the light.
“Pirates, if that’s you, know that this place is booby-trapped and I have dogs. Big, mean, angry dogs that will tear the flesh from your bones.”
Whoever it is responds, but I can’t hear over the dogs’ barking.
I pick up the dog ball slingshot thrower thingy that I keep by the door. It’s the closest I have to a weapon.
“I’m warning you,” I repeat.
“Lally, it’s me.”
“Me? Identify yourself,” I demand, my pulse racing.
“It’s Magnus.”
“Are you being held at scabbard point?”
“Lally,” he says in a wholly different tone than the one he used to reprimand me earlier.
