I lie watching the stars and listen to the water bumping the boat, worrying about why my head still hurts, and worrying about what that guy would’ve done if he caught up to us, and next thing I know I’m waking up and Marta’s already got us sailing again.
‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ she says. ‘We gotta tack.’
I check the sea all around and I can’t see that guy’s little boat. Way in the distance is a bigger fishing boat stopped and already fishing. I release one rope and haul in the other rope as Marta tacks, and soon enough Cottage Hill is on the horizon with its fully bald top of the hill and that little flashing red light. Rusty Bus is sitting there in the middle of all the shacks, its blue and white paint shining like it’s got no rust at all, and the breakfast stew already steaming in front of it.
We dock and I grab the fish and run up through the village. It’s my ma’s turn to make breakfast, so I run and give her a hug and show her the fish I caught, and tell her the tale of the croc. Then I hurry up the steps of Rusty Bus and slide that fish in beside sleeping Jag, right under his nose.
He stirs, he groans, he screws up his nose, he jumps up and bangs his head on the bunk above him. He grabs his head with one hand at the same time as he sees the fish and gasps and shoves it away. The spines jab his hand, so he pulls it back quick. Then he looks at me, standing there laughing, and his terrified eyes go narrow. ‘Neo!’ he yells.
‘Look how big it is!’ I say. ‘My biggest catch yet!’ I say. ‘And when I hauled it in there was a croc hanging onto its tail!’
Jag don’t even know what face to make now. He looks at the fish like he’s impressed and wants to hear the story of the croc, then he looks at me and says, ‘But why’s it in my bed?’
I laugh. ‘Jus’ be glad I got the croc off first!’ I yell, and grab the fish and run back out to Ma. Together we cut it up and add it to the stewpot. Everyone’s going to be eating fine this morning.
Ma says she’s going salvaging, and that’s my absolute favourite thing, and then she strokes my hair and says, ‘You should be resting this damaged noggin today.’
I say, ‘No! I’m coming. This scalp is practically healed! And the sea water will do it good!’
Ma sighs like she knows I’m pretending but I can go anyway, and I run to tell Jag to hurry up and get his lazy butt out of his fishy-stink bed.
We eat breakfast as fast as we can, with those big chunks of fish, and some of the adults even have second helpings, then we run down to the boats to get ready.
Jag has his belt with the useful stuff swinging from it, and he’s sniffing his shirtfront. ‘I smell like a fish!’ he says and gives me a push.
I push him back. ‘That’s better than you smelled yesterday!’ I say.
