We floated past the bayou, the fake star-studded sky, crickets chirping, and the old guy playing his banjo on the porch of his swamp-side home. I fidgeted nervously in my seat, every diner at the Blue Bayou a potential threat ready to strike.

“I’m scared,” I heard the little girl behind me say, ducking under her dad’s arm.

Join the club, kid.

Only it wasn’t an animatronic version of Johnny Depp I was freaked about.

I tried to settle into the ride as we slid down under the ground, past shipwrecks and ominous skeleton heads talking about ancient sea curses. Down here, it was just my boat mates and me, so unless the little kid behind me was some mini stalker, I reasoned that I was pretty safe. I sat back and tried to enjoy the ride. Though I would never admit it to Aunt Sue, it was actually one of my favorites, too. It was cool down here, the scenes were flashy, and it even had kind of a catchy tune. I almost started singing along when we got to the piles of gold and pirates singing, “yo ho,” on top of their barrels of rum.

Almost.

That is until I heard a sound that made my heart stop. A Tupperware lid burping open.

I leaned forward in my seat. “What are you doing?” I whispered to Aunt Sue.

She turned around and gave me the big innocent cow eyes. “Nothing.”

“I heard you pop the top on Mrs. C.”

Again with the innocent act, complete with eyelash fluttering this time.

“I thought we had a plan,” I hissed. “Remember the soda cup? Small World?”

Millie leaned in, joining in our whispered conversation. “Hattie loved this ride. I think she’d like a little of her to be here, too.”

“Do not, I repeat, do not, dump Mrs. Carmichael into the Pirates of the Caribbean waters!”

“Relax,” Aunt Millie told me. Which was so impossible at this point that it was almost laughable. “It’s dark. Who’s gonna see us?”

Cal had been silently listening to the exchange until now, but he leaned forward, poking Millie in the shoulder. Then pointed up to a skeleton head mounted on the ceiling with red, glowing eyes.

“Security cameras,” he explained.

Aunt Sue guiltily clutched her tote bag closed.

“This whole place is wired. You’re being watched by at least two security guards at all times on this ride.”

I looked up at the glowing eyes. “How can you tell?”

“Trust me. I know security. You’re being watched.” He pointed to a particularly shiny jewel in a pile of pirate booty. “There’s another one.”

I squinted at it, half thinking he might be bluffing. Not that I was going to call him out. If it kept the aunts from tossing Mrs. C.’s remains overboard, I was all for it.