On the upper deck, the music cuts off with a screech. I hear a rising murmur of voices as my classmates rush to the railing, peering over the side to see what’s going on.
“Isn’t that Reyes?” someone shouts. It sounds like Chris Tomlinson.
The captain cuts our engine, slowing us to an abrupt stop. Archer pulls back on his throttle too, bobbing motionless beside us. Stepping more firmly into view, he squints against the blinding beam of the spotlight.
“JO!” he screams at the top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth. “JOSEPHINE VALENTINE!”
A collective gasp moves through the crowd of students on the deck above me. I don’t look up. My eyes are locked on the crazy boy in the Hinckley.
“I’M NOT LEAVING, JO!” His voice goes ragged on my name. “NOT WITHOUT YOU!”
The crush of voices above reaches a fever pitch.
Where is she?
Has anyone seen Valentine?
Someone peering over the side spots me on the aft deck. Of course, it’s the twins.
“There she is!” Odette yells giddily.
“Down by the stern!” Ophelia adds.
The cruise lights, lowered for ambiance, abruptly flip on to full brightness, basking the entire vessel in a warm glow that illuminates the water all around us. I hear people calling my name in the distance; I pay them no heed. I hear the sound of running feet as crew members race toward me; I don’t even spare them a glance.
Because, across the dozen or so feet of ocean separating us, Archer has finally spotted me on the aft deck. When our eyes meet, his mouth tugs up at the corners.
“Hey, Jo,” he calls, turning the wheel so the Hinckley begins to drift closer. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something!”
“What’s that?” I call back.
“Will you go to the prom with me?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “I think you missed the boat. Literally.”
“Yeah. Seems like it.” He’s still staring at me. “So how about you ditch with me instead?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I was wrong.”
My heart leaps. “About?”
“Everything.” He pauses. “But mostly about not being the guy for you.”
My throat clogs with unshed tears. My voice, when it chokes out, is barely coherent. “You’re such an idiot, Reyes!”
“Is that a yes?” His eyes flicker to the rapidly-approaching crew members. “Offer is time sensitive.”
“YES!” I yell, reaching down to slip off my heels.
His smile blooms into a full-fledged grin that makes my knees weak as he eases the Hinckley toward the Odyssey, bringing his side along the railing. “You’re gonna have to jump for it.”
I eye the narrowing distance between myself and the open cockpit of the Hinckley. It’s about a five foot drop.
In shorts and Sperry topsiders, no problem.
In formalwear, a bit trickier.