The call for lights-out came at 2200, but there was still plenty going on around the ship. People peeling potatoes and soaking beans in the galley. Lots of mopping and cleaning everywhere. Up in the big hangars mechanics were taking planes apart and putting them back together. The ship that never sleeps, as Manny always said.
And down here on deck 3, Luca Santiago was in the laundry, folding clothes.
The other sailors hated working here. Working laundry was worse than peeling potatoes, they said, worse than swabbing decks.
Not as far as Luca was concerned.
He did his best not to let anyone know it, so they wouldn’t make fun of him. Secretly, though, Luca liked the laundry. He liked looking at all the clothes and thinking about who they might belong to.
Who went with this pair of socks?
Who put on this shirt?
As he folded each item he would picture the person who wore it, sometimes even give them names and personalities, make up stories about them and where they came from.
And Luca loved, absolutely loved, the smell of clean, pressed laundry.
He picked up the stack of clean undershirts he was working on, pressed them to his face, and breathed in. Cielo! It made him think of summer in El Paso, of being in the woods all by himself, the clean pine-needle floor, no one there to pick on him or give him grief, just Luca, walking and smelling the grasses and the leaves and the moss.
Being alone—that was another reason he liked it there in the laundry. There were other guys who worked there, of course, but they mostly left him to himself.
Which meant he could talk to his friends.
There was Manny, who was like an older brother to Luca.
Little Boss, who was not too smart but very funny, and had a good heart.
And there was Lulu, who liked Luca and was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.
Los amigos especiales. His special friends.
He knew they weren’t real. Luca wasn’t stupid. But he’d never had any other friends. Ever since he was un niño pequeño he always had his special friends around. When they were there, he never felt lonely. Of course he knew they only lived in his head, but that was fine with Luca. That way he didn’t have to share them with anyone else.
His Special Friend was different, though.
His Special Friend really was real.
Luca placed the last folded undershirt on top of the stack, then looked around to see that no one was watching. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out the note, and unfolded it carefully.
He read it again, whispering the words out loud.
Luca—I’ve got another secret assignment for you! Come to Sponson F, off the hangar deck, on the port side. I’ll be waiting for you tonight at 2400.
Luca looked around once more, then carefully refolded the note and placed it back in his pocket.
And smiled a secret smile.