But Ross isn’t ready to fully buy into the plan yet. “Do you have any idea how many sunken ships I’ve seen? That thing could spring a leak and then it’s all over for me.”

“Avani has been going out on the water since college, like twenty-five years ago, and she’s never once had a problem.” I double-checked with Kavya this morning. “And I read that most boats sink at the dock. So, once we’re out on the water, we should be good. Plus, there’s a blow-up lifeboat just in case. And . . .” I point up at the sky, clear blue, with hardly any clouds. “Weather’s perfect. No whitecaps. This couldn’t get any better.”

“Let’s get moving, people,” Kavya says, heading toward the dock. “Or she’ll have to leave without us.”

Ross sighs, but slowly trudges after her. Their body language is pretty closed off, but as we get closer to the boat, Ross finally mumbles, “They could have at least made that parka a bit more fashionable, don’t you think?”

They’re scowling still, but that sarcastic tilt is starting to creep along their mouth.

“If this messes up for any reason, I’m going to drown you myself.” The tilt disappears. Ross is totally serious.

“Pssh, you can try.” I point down to my thighs, using the power Kavya’s convinced is Ross’s weak spot. “These things are trained to keep me above the surface at all costs.”

Ross’s face finally breaks into the first full-on grin I’ve seen since we picked them up. “The boat idea was one thing,” they say, “but now you’ve gone too far.”

     Ross     

Instead of the smell of salty air and taking in the sight of endless Blue, I’ve got my head in between my knees, staring at the dirty gray floor of this boat. Turns out, not only am I carsick in this body, but I’m outrageously seasick. The Healing blessings the Elders gave me are working overtime to keep me from barfing, but I’m not sure how much longer they can last.

“Carsickness, seasickness, this really sucks!” Kavya says, perfectly keeping her balance despite every bump and sway of the boat as we cruise out into the Pacific. “This means we can’t take you to Magic Mountain. One second on a roller coaster and I bet it’d be over.”

“Just take deep breaths,” Sean says, rubbing my back like he has been for the past fifteen minutes.

“You keep saying that,” I snap. “It’s not working. I can hardly get a breath in before I feel like I might—” My stomach rumbles and my throat constricts. Please do not let this be the day where I find out what it’s like to barf.