Take It Off by J. Minter Page A

brought his eyes back on them, it was as though Prince had disappeared and he’d been transformed into Mickey again. “What’s
up
, dudes?”
    â€œWho are all these people?”
    â€œI dunno. Didn’t you invite them? I had to hear about your party from Greta. Which, no offense—”
    â€œNone taken.”
    â€œâ€”was lame.”
    â€œDude,
I
didn’t invite them. I just invited Arno and I was going to invite you and Jonathan, and—”
    â€œOh, speaking of J,” Mickey said, “did you ever find Suki?”
    Greta shook her head.
    â€œThey definitely got left on Mallorca,” Patch said.
    â€œHoly shit.”
    Just then, Arno came through the door.
    â€œWhere the hell have
you
been?” Mickey asked, shaking his head in disgust because he already knew the answer. It had been about an hour since Arno left.
    â€œSara-Beth got, um … sick …”
    â€œSara-Beth Benny?” Patch asked.
    â€œYeah, I had to take her back to her cabin.”
    They all took this in for a minute.
    Then Patch said: “Anyway, though, I was just saying that we’ve looked everywhere they could possibly be on this ship, and we’re pretty sure that both Suki and J got left on Mallorca.”
    â€œThat’s impossible,” Arno said, laughing to himself. “There’s no Prada on Mallorca.”
    â€œThere is, actually,” Greta offered. “I read about it in
W
.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI think it’s going to be okay, though. But we should get all these people out of here, and come up with a plan.”
    Greta cleared her throat and stepped forward. The guys watched in surprise as she cupped her hands around her mouth, and screamed: “All right, everybody. This is a raid. Anyone still in this room in ten minutes will be subjected to drug and alcohol testing …”
    The kid with the iBook slammed his computer shut and dashed for the door. The room fell silent; then everybody started to run. The stampede forced Patch and Greta to one side of the door, and Mickey and Arno to the other. As they watched the last of the party-goers go off in search of another cabin, Mickey leaned over and whispered to Arno:
    â€œSuki’s friend is kind of really hot.”

My nightmare has just begun
    â€œThis isn’t
so
bad,” Suki said, after we finally jammed open the door to our room. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to patronize me or make me feel better. Number eighteen was on the top floor, in a dank corner that smelled of cigarette smoke. The room looked like some monk or other had just spent his final years slowly dying here. The walls were dark wood, the floor was linoleum, and the windows were shuttered. Over the smallest double bed I’ve ever seen hung a simple and gigantic cross. I’m not particularly religious or anything, but crosses like that still weird me out a little. I sat down on the bed, and then I realized that everything was going to get much worse.
    â€œThis bed is so uncomfortable.”
    â€œHey, at least we got a room,” Suki said, undoing the window latch and pushing open the shutters.
    â€œHave you touched the bedspread?! Touch it.It’s like sandpaper.”
    â€œIt can’t be that bad.” Suki leaned out the window and looked at the scene below. “This is actually pretty. Come look. There’s a little square down below.”
    The last thing I wanted to see was a pretty little square. It was just going to remind me that we had been abandoned in a foreign country with no finances and no clean clothes.
    â€œMaybe later,” I said, and went into the bathroom and flipped on the light. As the neon lights stuttered on, I was met with a very harried, cranky-looking vision of myself. I tried to give my reflection a little talking-to:
This is an adventure, it’s romantic.
If only I had a few credit cards, a plane ticket out of here, and Flan, it could actually be