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Pike had given Mary Anne and me two hours off, and we needed the break.) Each of us had some sort of story to tell: "Watson taught David Michael how to do the crawl," said Kristy. "David Michael's a terrible swimmer. He could only dog-paddle, but Watson took him to this really calm little bay, and you should see my brother swim now! I never knew Watson was such a good teacher." "I spent the entire day with Vanessa and Nicky," said Mary Anne. "I was kind of hop- ing Mallory would join us, but she's been spending an awful lot of time by herself. . . . Have you gotten the feeling she's hiding something?" Mary Anne asked me.
I shook my head slowly. "Not Mallory. She's not a sneak." "That's not what I mean," Mary Anne replied. "Not exactly. I mean ... I don't know." "Well," I said, "I'm surprised I'm not a prune. Talk about swimming, Kristy, I spent practically the whole day in the water with Vanessa and Margo. They are tireless. I don't know how mothers keep up with their kids. . . . What'd you do today, Dawn?" Dawn lowered her eyes and looked shy, which was unlike her. "I sort of followed this cute boy around . . ." was all she'd say.
"That's a switch," said Claudia, "because a boy followed me all around today, only I don't even know whether he's cute." Claudia told us about her mysterious and elusive Secret Admirer.
When she was finished, Kristy asked, "Any club business?" We were too keyed up to think of a single thing.
"What about presents for the Pikes and Watson and Mom?" she went on.
At first, nobody said a word.
Finally, Claudia suggested, "Candy?" just as Dawn said, "Flowers?" "You guys are hopeless," Kristy told us. "This meeting is adjourned." I looked at my watch. More than an hour was left of our two-hour break, and after my day spent baby-sitting and in the club meeting, all I wanted was to be alone for awhile. So Kristy went off with Mary Anne, Claudia went off with Dawn, and I went off by myself. I went all the way up to the Sun Deck. It was too late for sun, of course (besides I'd already had plenty of it that day), but I wanted to get close to the night sky and see the stars over the ocean. I'd seen a New York City night sky, a country Connecticut night sky, a New Jersey beach night sky, but never an out-in-the-middle-of-the-ocean night sky.
Apparently, a whole lot of other people had the same idea — even though there were really no stars to be seen. Sometime between leaving Nassau and ending our dub meeting, the sky had clouded over and a wind had blown up.
I walked around the deck until I found a spot near the entrance to the swimming pool where no one else was standing. I stared out at the ocean swells, then up at the cloudy sky. I breathed in the salt air.
"Ahhh ..." I said.
I didn't even realize I'd spoken out loud, but I must have because a small voice said, "It's nice, isn't it?" I whirled around. Sitting behind me in the shadow of a doorway was a little boy in a wheelchair. (Mallory had said something about seeing a kid in a wheelchair. It was funny — she seemed to have noticed an awful lot about the people on the ship.) Even though I'd wanted to be alone, I smiled and stepped over to the boy. It's just impossible for me to ignore anyone who's sick or hurt or handicapped. I guess that's because I have diabetes myself. I understand what it's like to be ill sometimes, to have to remember to take medication, to be in the hospital. . . .
"It's beautiful," I said to the boy. "I just love the ocean." "Me too." "Would you like me to push you closer to the railing so you can see better?" I asked him.
The boy looked thoughtful. "I would," he replied finally, "but you'll have to set the brake and hold the chair tight — I mean, if you don't mind. My parents worry a lot. They don't want me rolling around." "I don't mind," I replied.
I pushed the chair across the deck, set the brake, and held on tight. "Where are your parents?" I asked him. If they were so worried, why had they left him alone?
"They're having a