Florin examined Frith Holiday with curiosity. The short man was tense, with a challenging look on his face. His words asked for a favor, but he physically looked ready to leap into an attack. Was he getting tired of being talked to? Florin nodded. “Of course, what is it?”

  Holiday took a deep breath, “I humbly offer you a request of friendship.”

  Florin’s eyebrows shot up.

  He spat out a ramble of a sentence, “Granted, it might be a burden upon you since I have not had a friend for many years and do not know the procedures associated with the responsibility, compounded on the fact that my social skills are frankly abysmal. But will you consider?”

  The surprise kept Florin frozen. Procedures of friendship? Burden? Was this a friend request made from an antiquated past? Then he noticed that Frith Holiday was taking the lack of response badly.

  “Sorry, I’m just a little blown away by such a formal approach,” he soothed. “I’m used to friendship being made by people just finding something in common and spending time together until friendship is just accepted. Not to say that your request is wrong.”

  Frith Holiday waited tensely.

  “If you want to spend time with me, then I’m all for it, Holiday. That’s kind of what the goal of this reunion is all about.” He smiled, hoping that would help.

  The short man nodded sharply, then hid his eyes behind the brim of his hat. “Very well, then I will call you by your first name and you can refer to me as ‘Frith’.”

  Florin’s eyes widened. “Oh? So that’s why you call everyone by their last name? You establish distance while a friend is on a first name basis. That makes a little more sense.”

  He slowly made eye contact again, a hard, guarded look tightening his jaw.

  “Alright, Frith, it’s a deal,” he held out his hand.

  The handshake was firmly returned. Frith released the grasp, then without so much as a farewell, he left the movie theater.

  Florin stared after, musing over the events. Only after the fact did he pick up on the sad undertone. Frith hasn’t called anyone a friend in years? That’s got to be tough. Then something didn’t quite connect. If he wanted to be friends originally, why didn’t he say we were friends years ago? And why does Frith seem completely disinterested in this cruise if he wanted to be here? There was one thing Florin did know: Frith Holiday was an odd duck. Only more time around him could bring out answers.

  In the meantime, Florin had a duty to his old classmates. A pool war had been declared by the twins. Only the foolhardiest, mostly himself and Arthur, would rise to the challenge for water supremacy.

  He entered the hallway, spotting everyone grabbing their luggage to claim their rooms. The four single rooms had their doors marked with plaques that had displayed an image instead of a name plate. The emblems were an 8-ball, an ace playing card, a roulette table, and a lucky 777. The doubles were more towards the front of the boat, on the other side of the movie theater, and had dominoes or dice. Whoever owned this boat really went all in for the gambling theme, maybe too much.

  He saw Arthur lingering in front of the domino room. “Tried to get the dice room for us,” he said, “but the twins said something about how they wanted the d6 and stormed the keep.”

  Who calls a die a d6? Florin shrugged. “I’m sure the cabins are indistinguishable.”

  The interior was cozy but accommodating. Soft creamy whites and wooden accents adorned the room, plain in comparison to the over-decorated bulk of the ship. Two twin-sized beds were in direct line of sight with a decorative cabinet. The bathroom door was directly to the left, big enough only for the basics, and on the right was a small closet in the wall. After seeing the sprawling master bath upstairs, Florin felt more at home in the simplistic set-up.

  He noticed that Arthur had moved both of their luggage. His roommate sprawled back on the right-side bed. “It’s comfier than it looks.” Arthur sat back up. “Feeling better about the whole vacation now, Florin? The color’s back in your face.”

  He fidgeted. “Yeah, it’ll take some getting used to, but I think everyone is excited.”

  “That’s not what I said,” Arthur frowned. “You’re putting others’ wishes before your own. You’ve always had that altruistic streak about you. So, I’ll ask again: are you feeling better or are you going to hide behind what others want?”

  Florin was caught off guard by how frank Arthur was. He knows me well. Even if specifics aren’t in the forefront of my mind, there was a strength to our bond. It’s a shame I’ve neglected it for so long. He relaxed, letting his mask slip a bit. “I was really looking forward to the schedule Shilling made. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I liked the hour-by-hour plans.”

  “Then you’re in luck. That’s an easy accommodation to make. With the eating times as a framework, we can plan out the rest of the vacation. Everyone wins.”

  “Thanks, Arthur.”

  “Someone’s gotta look out for you,” he beamed. “Hey, check this out.” He tossed something into the air.

  Florin somehow managed to catch the cloth-covered sponge ball. Giving it a test squeeze, Florin grinned. “I thought that only Steve and Qadira brought pool toys.”

  “And they’ll think they have the advantage in having all the tools and ammo. Let’s count on that until I give the signal for the all-out war. But before that, we gotta get changed and sunscreened up. We redheads only burn in the sun.”

  “Right.”

  The blistering heat of the tropical summer baked the deck. Florin bounded across the white floor to the nearest shaded spot. He scanned the sundeck, picking out who was present. His eyes grievously found Dee and Shilling first, the both of them wearing the skimpiest swimwear they could publicly get away with, laying on the poolside lounges. His attention flitted away in self-preservation from the eyesore bikini and golden banana hammock.

  Too late. His notice summoned Shilling. The nearly-naked man jumped to his feet and pulled down his sunglasses. “Good to see you getting into the vacation spirit. Despite the huge change in plans, you can adapt very well.”

  “No more surprises, I hope?” Florin huffed.

  “Nothing with that big of a punch, I can promise you that. Unless a whale decides to visit and mug our boat, which would be rare and wildly out of season,” he shrugged grandly.

  It was getting hard to keep up the conversation while trying to ignore his atrocious swimwear. “How about you put on some trunks?”

  Shilling tossed his head and bit onto the temple tips of his sunglasses. “Don’t be so overtly jealous, dear brother. I’ll save a bachelorette, or bachelor if that strikes your fancy, for you.”

  The only valid response was to pinch the bridge of his nose and heave his greatest sigh yet. When his raw reaction had simmered down, he shoved Shilling’s shoulder. “You’re terrible! I bet you and Dee planned to claim the suite from the very beginning. What even are you two: boyfriend and girlfriend?”

  Shilling arched his eyebrows smugly. “Logistics just worked in my favor. Having a bedroom away from the rest of you is rather lonely, so I, the upperclassman and vacation mastermind, will take the terrible burden of isolation.” He quickly interrupted Florin’s protests, “Dee and I have a more casual, spur of the moment sort of arrangement.”

  Oh, so it’s some kind of open or benefits-related bargain. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “You’re single, right Florin? Do you want a wingman?”

  “I didn’t plan a class reunion to go soul searching. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hit the emergency exit to this conversation now.” He took a few steps, then called again, “And put on some pants!”

  Florin retreated to a different shaded table and began surveying the other people on the deck. Tanned Steve and Qadira were separating the pile of pool toys into two, their swimsuits covered by large white t-shirts. Lottie sat away from the rest on the black and white sofas, still in street clothes. She raised a glass of bright blue liquid in Florin’s direction, as if saluting him for telling his brother off.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Chi sat at the pool’s edge, dressed in a modest yellow one-pieced swimsuit with a tasteful skirt about the waist. She kicked a beach ball towards Hickory, who was swimming in the mosaic-tiled pool.

  Suddenly, a horn tore through the air, sending vibrations through the floorboards. A few more short bursts sounded, then the marina stared drifting away. Florin couldn’t help but leap to the nearest side and watch the ocean churn beneath the boat. Seagulls answered the horn with piping caws and wheeled about in a beautiful aerial dance. The Juniper was off, out to explore the wide-open ocean.

  “Aye, ye landlubbers be at the mercy of the sea now.” Steve mimicked an old sea captain’s accent, squinting an eye for effect. “Best ye pray to Poseidon for safe passage, or be cursed! And no killing them sea birds, aye?”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” said Florin.

  Qadira joined them. “Steve and I have graciously provided you with a pile of weapons and ammo to even the playing field.” She indicated their handiwork. “Hope you and Arthy have a recruited another member, or this is going to be a one-sided battle. Isn’t that right, Hickory?”

  He waved from the pool. “I got indoctrinated, y’all.”

  “Inducted!” Lottie snapped. “The word you’re looking for is ‘inducted’.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “No, it’s not, you oaf!”

  “That’s no fair,” Arthur called from nearby. “You want to help us even the odds, Lottie?”

  “Hell no!” she lifted her chin. “I just got me this cocktail and I ain’t changing my clothes for some stupid child’s game.”

  “Stupid? You wound my heart so!” Steve leaned back dramatically, hand over his eyes.

  Florin surveyed the rest of the people in the area. With Frith nowhere to be found, they had only one option that wasn’t Shilling or Dee. “Care to join us, Chi?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I would be of any help, deary, but I can try.”

  “Great! Then let the war begin!” Steve called as he tossed his shirt on the deck and cannonballed into the pool.

  A mad dash ensued.

  The participants hurried to wet their water bombs or load the water guns to get the first hit. That honor went to Arthur, who nailed Steve squarely in the chest with the sponge ball. Qadira quickly avenged her brother by drenching Arthur’s face with her carefully aimed water gun. Florin was last to the fray, needing to deposit his glasses first. He nearly landed on top of Hickory as he jumped in and he used the opportunity and squish out a sponge ball’s worth of water on his head. Hickory swiped back playfully, throwing a pool noodle to initiate a sword fight. Chi timidly waved around a noodle from the sidelines.

  It was difficult to keep track of the flow of the mock battle, especially without the aid of his glasses. After a good ten minutes of free-form brawling, they organized into same-weapon skirmishes: a few rounds of bombs –which Arthur showed incredible throwing skills in—a few rounds of relentless slaps of the noodles, and finally the crowning event of a chicken fight between the men.

  Steve sat atop Hickory’s shoulders, stretching and wiping his recently wetted hair. “Alright, best two out of three!”

  “You’re on!” Arthur responded. He shifted under Florin, making sure his footing was secure on the tile mosaic. That had been their downfall in the first round, and Arthur’s competitiveness was making him focus entirely on it.

  Florin tried to figure out the best way to separate the Steve and Hickory tower. Arthur had an aggressive approach, but Florin didn’t have the will to throw much weight around and risk his own balance. There had to be a way to meld his and Arthur’s styles more efficiently.

  Before the four of them called the next round, another horn rang through the air. As they looked around for a reason, Shilling called from the sidelines, “It’s lunch time.”

  “That’s great, we’ll get there after the round’s done.” Hickory said. The rest nodded; none of the combatants were willing to leave a tie.

  The observers began to towel off and make their way to the stairs that connected to the sunning deck.

  A splash alerted Florin to the opposing duo’s sudden charge. He held up his arms defensively, deflecting Steve’s lunges. Arthur bent his knees into the water, then launched forward. Florin and Steve almost knocked heads and Hickory backpedaled.

  Florin curled himself closer to Arthur’s shoulders, keeping defensive. Maybe if he and Arthur coordinated a strong attack at the same time, they could grab and drag.

  Hickory and Steve danced around, throwing around a playful taunt or two. They clashed once more, Florin fighting against Steve’s sudden grab and weight shift while the two on bottom balanced. Just as they separated, Arthur charged again. Florin followed through on the momentum, grabbing Steve’s elbows.

  Too much motion! Florin slipped off Arthur’s shoulders first, though he managed to drag Steve from his perch after. After surfacing, the four of them agreed to a Steve and Hickory victory.

  More rounds and greater technique were promised amongst them as they went to the patio bar. Plates of food were already waiting.

  Qadira and Chi dragged the tables together to house all but Shilling and Dee, who’d already claimed counter seats at the deserted bar. Frith Holiday looked over pieces of paper at a solitary outpost. Curious, Florin weighed the others reactions to seeing Frith for the first time in hours. Nothing. Then again, if Frith’s isolating himself on purpose, it’s natural for the others just go with the flow.

  He chose a seat at the end of the line of tables, then called, “Don’t be shy, Frith, join us.”

  Strangely, this caught more attention than anticipated. Not only did Frith look up, the shadow of a frown shaping his face, but the others suddenly paused to observe. Frith hesitated, but rose from his seat all the same. Tense and serious, he settled in the free chair next to Florin.

  “Thanks,” Florin soothed.

  A grunt was Frith Holiday’s only response.

  “Huh,” Steve cradled his chin in his hands, “I guess the ban on your first name has lifted, huh, Frith?”

  “No.”

  “Ah well, worth a try.” Steve shrugged.

  “Curious…” Shilling’s voice was barely audible. He rolled an alcoholic drink in his hand, oddly refusing to pry.

  “Alright, let’s dig in!” Hickory held aloft his sandwich.

  Qadira followed suit. “Thanks for the food!”

  Something as simple as a sandwich seemed impossible to make lavish, but Florin changed his perspective after the first bite. The bread was undoubtedly made recently in a bread maker and had a variety of spices and grains baked in. Everything tasted fresh and juicy: tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and beef. His old classmates began to voice their happiness.

  All except for Shilling. He’d paused from his chewing, eyes wide and hand to his mouth.

  Dee made a sarcastic comment about his diet through a sneer.

  Florin frowned, readying to help if his brother was choking.

  Shilling fished something out of his mouth and let it fall to his plate. A clink echoed. He swore softly, eyes fixed on the object.

  A razor blade.

  “Shilling?” Florin stood abruptly. “What happened?”

  His brother smiled and waved a dismissing hand. “What a curious prank. It’s in rather poor taste.” He rolled his shoulders, adding in a slightly more pointed tone, “It would be rather remiss of me to consider the possibility of this being an isolated incident. Anyone else want to look to see if their food is a horror-themed kinder egg as well?”

  The mask of cheer and jokes always appeared when Shilling wanted to hide his real reaction. Florin went on alert.

  Shocked mutters circled around the group and the sandwiches were quickly dissected. Nothing else turned up. Somehow, this made things more tense. Why did Shilling have a dangerous object in his food, one that could have cut him up badly?

  Dee sneered. “Alright, Dwarf, tell us how the hell you did it.”

  It took a moment to realize who her target was. Grim but even-voiced, Frith Holiday answered, “Your accusation carries considerable weight. Care to explain your reasoning, Miranda?”

  “You were the first one here, dumbfuck!” she hissed. “And your hate for Shill is so obvious that even Dickory could figure it out. So, how’d you do it?”

  “How pedantic,” Frith softly scoffed. “I would have anticipated your knowledge of identifying and placing contraband in food to have been honed by your jailer profession. Perhaps I expected too much.”

  Dee launched off her stool. “You want to throw down, you little shit?!”

  “I’d rather ingest that blade. Even half-masticated, its surfaces are cleaner.”

  Shilling pulled his enraged roommate back from an all-out assault. Florin regarded Frith with a hint of surprise. This man could barely ask to be friends, yet could dole out this fire without hesitation? The refusal to answer the question was a little worrisome. Did he actually do it?

  Dee finally calmed down, though couldn’t help throwing a few more curses at Frith. Shilling took control of the situation. “While I believe it is important to investigate potential explanations, I think that a strange but unfortunate accident makes far more sense. Stranger things have been found in food before. After all, how could anyone predict which person took which plate?” His eyes roved across the group.

  “That doesn’t make sense, Shilly,” Qadira frowned. “It’s a freaking razor blade! Unless our cooks decided to use the most unhinged cutting tools, there’s no reason for that to be in a kitchen.”

  “Or maybe Mr. Showboat wanted to make an impression,” Lottie grumbled. “Almost ate a blade, but escaped without so much as a nick. Mighty suspicious.”

  “Or, hear me out you guys,” Steve held out his palms, “it’s the work of a haunting.”

  Debate and naysaying churned amongst them. Steve reiterated, “No really! Let’s think about it. It’s been a while since we’ve all seen each other, and suddenly at the reunion Shilling gets a razor? It’s got to be June trying to send us a message from the beyond! Besides, anyone got that weird energy vibe going on now? Like, the boat’s full of her melancholy, brooding aura.”

  “That’s just preposterous.” Shilling frowned. “Ghosts aren’t real, and even if they were, June wouldn’t haunt us.”

  Florin caught ear of Frith muttering something under his breath.

  “Aha!” Steve pointed dramatically. “When you deny the ghosts, you only encourage them to react! But not to worry, I think I have some ghost-warding things in my bag.”

  “You do you, Steve,” sighed Shilling. “I’ll let our cooks know about this sharp sandwich, then we can get on with the day.” With that, he left with his plate.

  Theories continued across the small groups. Florin couldn’t keep track of all the conversations. Something was going on under the surface; he couldn’t quite pin it down. He rubbed his chin and gave Frith a casual look. “What do you think happened?”

  He stared neutrally. “Crottie’s theory holds more weight than the others.”

  “You didn’t see anyone tampering with the food before anyone took their plates?”

  “No,” his voice was calm and he unwaveringly stared into Florin’s eyes. Was that a sign of honesty or deception?

  “Why would Shilling do that to himself though?”

  “His conniving ways are beyond my understanding.”

  Florin smiled wanly. “Yeah, mine too.”

  “You don’t suspect me?” Frith narrowed his eyes.

  “Should I?” he didn’t get a response. “I won’t throw suspicion around without good reason. There’s too much luck and guesswork involved in predicting who would take what plate. So, until anything comes up to amend or contradict the explanation, it’s just a weird accident.”

  “I see. Thank you, Florin.”

  He nodded. Maybe Frith did mind being labeled as the suspect more than he let on. If that was the case, then that was a point in the innocent direction. Still unsure of what to make about everything, Florin simply listened to the others talk as he finished his meal.