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stupid birds who lived on the stupid ocean. He sighed, and wished he were back in Texas with his friends. The light coming through the portholes was enough to see by as he got his first look at the space belowdecks.
    His eyes widened.
    The cabin was in much less disrepair than the rest of the boat, and actually looked habitable. Even rather nice, despite the slight musty odor. The front of the boat made a V, where there was a berth, the bed neatly made with a blue spread and a white pillow. He hoped that he could sleep there, although he suspected he would end up sharing with Nacho.
    The galley was small, but seemed to have all the amenities of a regular kitchen. A large wooden basket of fresh pineapples, papayas, and tiny bananas sat on the counter, tethered by the handle with a red-and-black bungee cord. Just past the kitchen a red-and-white-checked tablecloth covered a rectangular table, which was bolted to the wall at one end, a green-cushioned banquette curving around three sides of it. A few steps beyond the table lay a sitting room, with two wide cushioned built-in benches that met in one corner and lay opposite a shelving unit that held a television.
    Marco smiled. “Nice.” He stepped closer and pushed the power button, but nothing happened. He hoped there was nothing wrong with the television, that it just happened to be unplugged or something.
    Several bookshelves sat above the television, and Marco stepped over to read the spines of the books. He half hoped to find another in the Harry Potter series, since he’d devoured the first during the flight from Shanghai to Sydney while everyone else slept. When they’d landed, he handed it to Sarah, with a flip, “I won’t need this after all,” implying that he hadn’t even cracked it open.
    He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he just didn’t want her to know he’d read it. Maybe he didn’t want to be a source of satisfaction for her; she’d made him feel like he was some kind of project.
    He was getting the feeling that the trip was like a test of some sort for the Robinsons, to see if this new family was going to work. So far, really, it couldn’t have been going any worse. Between the long flights, the lousy hotel, the suckfest of a boat … He grinned. The trip couldn’t have been going any better, because the worse it went, the better chance there was that his new stepfather—and maybe even his mom—would give up on the marriage. And they’d end up back in Texas.
    He perused the bookshelf, which held a dozen or so old, mildewed books, by authors with odd names like Jules Verne and Homer and H. G. Wells and Robert Louis Stevenson, but no Harry Potter. He found the bird book and pulled it out.
    Marco peered into the small head, surprised to see sparkling silver metal fixtures on the sink and toilet, and clean white tile. “Mom will be happy about that.” On his way back to the galley, he noticed a small table and chair he hadn’t seen before, with a bank of electronics above them. A headset lay on the table, and he picked it up and put it on. “Mayday, Mayday.” He grinned. Then he took off the headset and set it back on the table.
    On his way back out, he passed a door with a sign that read CREW ONLY.
    Marco went over to the foot of the stairs, peered up, and then backed his way to the door. He took ahold of the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it twisted easily in his hand and he pushed the door open.
    The berth wasn’t very large, and held only a desk, a chair, and a bed, neatly made with a white bedspread decorated with a stitched dark blue anchor. At the foot of the bed sat a square object, concealed completely by a plain white sheet.
    Marco leaned back out the door for a second, checking to see that no one had come down the stairs, then quickly stepped to the end of the bed. He lifted one end of the white sheet, revealing a large trunk made of a dark wood,