Do you know what today is, boy?”

The day I became a pirate, I thought darkly. But I knew that was not the answer the pirate captain wanted. “No, sir.”

“Where’s Johnny boy?”

Amid a chorus of heckles, a boy came forward. I knew it was wrong to stare, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the teenager shuffling forward. He was pale. Impossibly pale. Tall and lanky. He was older than me—seventeen or eighteen. And his eyes were pink. The color would’ve been pretty in a sunset, but eyes were not meant to be that color. I recoiled instinctively.

As the boy approached the captain, his sickly pink eyes widened a fraction and his hands flexed.

“What day is it, Johnny boy?” the captain asked.

Johnny looked down. “Christmas, sir.”

There was a flash of movement and a sickening crack. I couldn’t believe what I saw. Without any provocation, the captain had backhanded the boy. Johnny didn’t flinch or cry out. He just wiped the blood from his lip.

The captain beamed at me. “Normally, we only allow Johnny to take a punch a day. But seein’ as it’s Christmas, I removed the limits.”

A tawny man I knew to be the gunner grabbed Johnny by the shoulder and sunk a fist deep in his gut. Another pirate landed another punch. Then another. In a matter of seconds, Johnny was prostrate, seven or eight pirates on top of him.

When they were done, Johnny moaned and struggled to his feet. He was holding his side, and his face was bleeding.

The captain looked at me. “Have a turn. It’s my Christmas gift to the crew. And yer one of us now.”

I stood agape.

The captain shifted his weight and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “I might find it insulting if you don’t accept my gift.”

Did I really have to hit this boy? What would they do to me if I didn’t?

A man cleared his throat and stepped forward. He was round and ruddy with a flaxen beard. His shoulders were stooped, and his voice was soft. “Pardon me, Captain, but the boy needs time. It weren’t three hours ago that he saw his entire crew killed.”

The captain let out a breath. “The lad will open his gift later. Let’s work on putting the new cargo away.”

The crew dissipated, even Johnny, leaving me alone with the soft-spoken pirate.

He held out his hand to me. “Simon Skidmore.”

I hesitated, then shook it. “Nicholas Holladay.”

Skidmore looked me up and down. With an avuncular tone, he said, “Lose your boots. You’ll be steadier in the ratlines.”

I nodded. “Thanks for…” I gestured broadly, not sure how to phrase my thoughts. “Am I really going to have to hit that boy?”

Skidmore shrugged. “Plenty of people do.”

“Do you?”

Skidmore shook his head then shifted his attention to the sails. “We’ve got a heavin’ line. Help me tack it.”

“Is this what Christmas is always like?” I looked at Johnny’s blood on the deck.

“What was Christmas like for you?”

I grabbed the line and shrugged. “Begging got a bit better this time of year. Meat pies and maybe even a pastry. Never got a present, though. Never gave one neither. Beating Johnny…that don’t seem like a very good gift. Leastways not for him.”

“That’s why I don’t hit him,” Skidmore said.

AS THE Christmas celebration wound down, the captain stood, Johnny at his side. “The night’s slipping away. Has everyone received their Christmas gift?”

A few pirates bellowed that they hadn’t hit Johnny yet.

The captain called them forward. He also summoned me. “Who’ll be first?”

I stepped forward.

“Young Mr. Holladay.” The captain smiled.

I pressed my lips together, fisted my hands, then turned and stood in front of Johnny. “I’d like to give Johnny a Christmas gift,” I said, my voice thin. “Hit me instead of him.”

I TOOK eight punches. Johnny took four. We sat in a hidden corner of the gun deck mopping our wounds and bragging up our battle scars.

Then Johnny grew serious. “I ain’t never had no one stand up for me like that.”

I could feel blood pumping into my cheeks. I didn’t say anything.

“No one,” Johnny said again, emphasizing his words. “Even me own mum put me out. Some nuns took care of me for a while, but then I got too old. I always heard anyone could find a home with pirates. You see slaves with skin black as night, but I guess there’s no place for someone with skin white like mine.”

“It shouldn’t matter,” I muttered angrily, thinking of what my mother went through because of the color of her skin.

“You shouldn’t’ve stood up for me. A stunt like that can get you killed.”

I shook my head. “This may have been the first time someone’s stood up for you, but it won’t be the last.”

He sighed. “I just hate being me. I don’t want to be Johnny. I don’t want to be white. If I could have a real Christmas wish, that’s what I’d wish for.”

“You’re in luck,” I said smugly. “I’m in the business of granting Christmas wishes. From this day on you’ll be known as Jack. And you won’t be white anymore. You’ll be Black Jack—the meanest pirate in the Spanish Main. A man would have to be a git to gamble with a man named Black Jack.”

The boy beamed. “Black Jack. I like it.” He removed something from around his neck. “Hold out your hand.”

I did as he asked, and he dropped a golden crucifix on a chain in my palm. “One of the nuns gave me this to help protect me. A talisman. I don’t think I need it anymore.”

“I can’t take this.” I moved to give it back.

Black Jack held up his hands. “I’ve never had a friend to give a present to.”

I draped the chain around my neck. “No one’s ever given me a Christmas present before.”

“I guess this means we’re friends,” Jack said, his swollen lips stretching into a smile.

“Yeah.” I grinned. “I guess it does.”