The students of Ocean Term were supposed to divide up into their orientation groups and sit quietly in clusters on the deck of the Ariadne. It was their third night on the ship, and they had already learned how to turn the evening lectures into covert parties in plain view. There was no moon, and the program director, Roger Barker, was explaining the myths behind various constellations. He used a microphone, and looked at the sky as he spoke and gestured grandly. Meanwhile, the kids carried on quiet conversations and snuck from one group to another. Arno Wildenburger took a flask of Jack Daniels out of his jacket pocket and took a sip.
Arno’s group’s RA was a British anarchist and antiglobalization protester who called himself Loki. He was more than willing to look the other way.
Already the students were forming cliques and hooking up with each other. It all seemed sort of immature to Arno, like the New Hampshire summer camp that his parents had sent him to in junior high. Still, a two-week party on a cruise ship with three hundred other kids couldn’t be an entirely bad thing.
On the first night, Arno had been irritated that he was stranded in this group with none of his New York crew. But he didn’t mind so much anymore. Patch had already become the most talked-about kid on the trip, and of course Arno hated that. Apparently, during Patch’s orientation group’s day trip through ancient ruins on Delos, Patch had caught some looters trying to make off with the head of an ancient statue of Aphrodite. The island’s team of archaeologists had practically asked if they could keep Patch, they loved him so much. And stuff between Mickey and Arno was strained anyway, because of all the parental entanglements that came out around Thanksgiving. They had been steering clear, as it were, since then. There was Jonathan’s mooning over Flan, too, which had gotten a little bit annoying. And, oh yes, there was another reason that Arno was glad to be going it alone.
He’d met Suki Davison bright and early Monday morning, during their first orientation meeting. She was wearing a sticker that said: HELLO MY NAME IS: SUKI, BERKELEY, CA. Nobody else had a sticker like that, and Arno couldn’t decide whether this made her cute or geeky. (By that afternoon, when at least ten other girls had managed to get the same kind of sticker and Suki’s had disappeared, he decided she was pretty freaking cool.) She was half Japanese and half California WASP, and she had long dark hair and bangs cut in a straight line over her eyes. There was a small tattoo of a Japanese character on her shoulder, and when they went around in a circle and told the group something about themselves, she said, “Yeah, that is a tattoo, and yeah, it is my name in Japanese. Now none of you have to ask me about it ever again.”
She wasn’t the kind of cool girl that Arno was used to hanging out with in New York. But she had that sort of laid-back California thing going on that made her a most-desirable in this kind of alternative education setting. When Loki asked if anyone had any questions or problems during orientation, her hand shot up and she said, “I am very concerned that Ocean Term has decided to serve meat in its cafeteria. I don’t want to impose my views on anyone else, but I’d just like to say that financially supporting the meat industry seems contradictory to everything this program stands for.” It wasn’t cool, but Arno had to admit it was sort of sassy. Besides, she had really long legs, and Arno, who was six one, thought he made a better-looking couple with a girl who was almost as tall as he was.
Arno snuck another sip of the Jack and leaned toward Suki, who was sitting cross-legged next to him and listening to the lecture. He was close enough that when he breathed deeply, and then exhaled, the hair around her ear moved slightly. She smelled exotic and familiar at once, like the perfect mix of incense and girl’s skin.
“It’s pretty cold out,” he said, even though it wasn’t remotely chilly. “You want a nip?”
“Thanks,” she said, turning her face so that her nose almost touched Arno’s. After she took a sip, she looked back up at the stars. Barker was saying, “And if you look to your left you can see Dorado, and you’re lucky, because you can only see it in January, and …”
“This is probably where I should ask you about your sign,” he said, “but that’s not really how I do things.”
She smiled. “That’s good,” she said, and took another swig before giving the flask back to him. “You’re from New York, right? I bet you’ve never even seen stars like this.”
He looked up. The sky above them glittered with stars. “No,” he said, “guess not. So … what do kids do for fun in Berkeley?”
“Probably about the same as you and your friends do,” she said. He laughed, because he doubted it. “You know, party, cause drama.”
“I’d like to get in some drama with you.”
“Yeah, that might be a good time.”
Barker had finished his talk and was winding up his evening messages.
“I’m very pleased with our exploration of Delos,” he was saying. “I’d like to congratulate one of Ocean Term’s students in particular. Yesterday, he was able to stop bandits from stealing an ancient and sacred piece of art. Patch Flood, ladies and gentleman.” Patch stood up sheepishly next to him and half waved at the crowd. Everyone murmured. Barker continued, “You could all learn a little something from him about the importance of embracing and protecting ancient cultures. Now, we’ll reach Sicily by morning, and there will be day trips tomorrow for those interested …”
“That’s one of my guys from New York,” Arno said to Suki.
“Really? Barker thinks he’s pretty special.”
“Yeah, well …” Arno stopped when he saw Mickey, on elbows and knees, coming toward them.
“My group sucks,” Mickey hissed.
Loki looked over and glared at them to be more quiet. Apparently anarchy had its limits.
“Suki Davison, meet Mickey Pardo,” Arno said. He wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed that Mickey was interrupting what was happening with Suki, or that he was trying to act like they were totally cool, when obviously they’d been sort of distanced for weeks, even on Jonathan’s stepmom’s awesome yacht.
He also didn’t really want Suki meeting his guys. Even Arno, as he had learned with Jonathan’s trashy cousin Kelli, was occasionally played by girls.
Mickey did a quasi-somersault and landed between Suki and Arno. “Suki,” he said, “righteous.”
“Another one of my guys from the city.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, Arno, got any whiskey?” Arno passed Mickey the flask and he took a swig. “So where’s the party tonight?”
Arno and Suki shrugged. Barker’s voice came over the microphone: “All right, girls and boys, buona serra! And just a friendly reminder: Anyone caught with illegal substances tonight will be flying home tomorrow. The RAs will be doing room checks at midnight, so you have about an hour to do what you have to do before bedtime.”
The kids gave a collective groan and then started to stand up.
“Shit, I gotta get back to my group,” Mickey said. “See you later.”
Arno waved at him exaggeratedly. “Buh-bye.” It was about time he got going.
“And you,” Mickey said, pointing to Suki, “I will definitely be seeing later.”