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cup of coffee at the cafe. I said to them, 'Please, please, please can I go somewhere by myself?' so they said they would leave me here. I bet they'll be back in a minute, though. They really do worry about me all the time." I smiled. I liked this kid.
"I'm Stacey McGill," I told him. "What's your name?" "Marc Kubacki. I'm seven. How old are you?" Seven? I thought. The kid sounded seven, but he looked four.
"I'm thirteen," I told him.
"You want to know a secret?" Marc asked, craning his neck around and peering up at me.
"Sure. I love secrets." "As much as the ocean?" "More." Marc grinned. "Okay. Here's the secret. I'm not crippled. I can walk just fine." I was about to ask, "Then how come you're in this wheelchair?" when Marc went on, "I have a real bad heart problem. I'm not allowed to walk or run or do anything that strains my heart or makes me get out of breath." "Wow," I replied. "What a drag." I paused, wondering whether to tell Marc about me. Not that he couldn't handle it. I just don't talk about it all that much. But the least I could do was be as straightforward as Marc. I drew in a breath. "Now I'll tell you a secret. I have diabetes. And my parents worry about me all the time, too." Marc wanted to know what diabetes was, so I explained as simply as I could.
He nodded thoughtfully. Then he said, "This is our first big vacation. I wanted to go to the Magic Kingdom and Mom and Dad had never been on a cruise. So we decided to take this trip. I like the boat, but I can't wait for Disney World." "Who's your favorite Disney character?" I asked.
"Goofy. Definitely Goofy. . . . Oh, here come my parents." A young man and woman rushed over to Marc, looking concerned. But Marc saved things. "This is my new friend Stacey," he said. "She's holding on real tight." The Kubackis laughed. We talked for a few minutes, and then I realized that my two hours were almost up. "I better go," I said. "But I hope I see you again soon, Marc." "Okay," he replied. "'Bye! And thanks for holding on! I hope your diabetes gets better." So did I, but that's one thing about diabetes. You have it for life.
As I made my way down to our cabins, I thought that it really was a good thing I'd been holding on tightly to Marc's chair. The ship had started to pitch from side to side, and I was having trouble walking. I kept slamming into walls and doorways.
When I reached our cabin, Mary Anne stepped (actually, she fell) through the doorway of the cabin next door. "Oh, Stace, I'm glad you're back," she said, getting to her feet.
"We're trying to settle everyone for the night. The crew is telling people to stay in their cabins — a big storm is coming!" "No kidding. Wow!" I exclaimed.
"Yeah," said Mary Anne. "I've got Vanessa and Mallory in there," she nodded toward her cabin, "but Claire and Margo are kind of scared and they're in with Mr. and Mrs. Pike." "Okay," I said. "Thanks." I retrieved Claire and Margo (who did seem a little frightened, but not too scared), and tucked them into the bottom bunks in our cabin. I was trying to climb into my top bunk when the ship tipped way over on one side.
"Whoa!" I cried as I slipped back down to the floor.
A box of Kleenex flew over my head, and Claire's bathing suit sailed by.
"Boy, now I see why all the furniture is stuck to the floor," said Claire.
But Margo said, "Stacey! Stacey! I don't feel-well." Uh-oh, I thought. Margo is famous for her motion sickness, and I can't stand to see people throw up.
I gave Margo a hug, though, and handed her a trash can. "Here," I said, "if you have to get sick, you can do it in there, okay? I'm going to run to your parents' cabin and see if if s okay to give you some Dramamine." "Oh, don't leave," wailed Margo. But I had ,to. The Dramamine was in Mrs. Pike's suitcase.
"I'll stay with you, Margo," said Claire, looking worried.
I dashed to the Pikes' cabin, and Mrs. Pike returned with me, and then took Margo (who had thrown up twice in the wastebasket) back to her room for the