“Well, it was,” Phee said. “Which is why we’ve gone with Lucy’s idea.”
Arthur blinked. “I beg your pardon? David, did you not make the case for your proposal?”
David smiled suddenly, his gaze flicking over Arthur’s shoulder. It was an odd smile, a little crooked, with a hint of fangs behind it. “I did. And then Lucy said something that sounded like more fun.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
The sky darkened above them, as if the clouds had hidden the sun away. Before Arthur could look up, the boat began to move slightly away from the island as if getting pulled, the motion causing Linus to grab Arthur to keep from falling. “What the…” Linus said, turning to look up at the sun, shielding his eyes. “I do hope that’s not a … rain … cloud. Lucy.”
“Yes, Linus?” Said in picture-perfect innocence.
“Question, if I may: Do you know anything about the giant tidal wave heading straight for us?”
Arthur said, “The giant what?” He whirled around, and there, towering high in the sky, a massive wave of seawater, at least four stories tall, the top capped with white like the snowy peak of a mountain. It rushed toward them, a roar building to bone-shaking levels, the boat picking up speed from the pull of the wave.
“Hang on, everybody!” Lucy screamed, sounding far too happy at their impending deaths.
Linus moved before Arthur did, grabbing Talia and Lucy in his arms and plunking down in the middle of the rowboat, the front of which was already rising at a low angle as the wave got closer and closer. Sal pulled Theodore from his shoulder, tucking him under his arm as Phee and David dove for the box. Sitting down in front of Linus, Sal held Theodore in his lap, both of them looking up at the wave with bright eyes.
“Chauncey!” Arthur shouted, reaching for him as the boat tilted back and back and back, the cooler flipping end over end into the sea.
“I got this!” Chauncey cried. As Arthur looked on in amazement, Chauncey sucked in a deep breath, his chest (or, rather, what might be his chest) expanding until he looked like he had swallowed a beach ball. Then he deflated with a forceful exhalation, his entire body (sans eyes) becoming thin as a piece of paper. One tentacle shot out to the front of the rowboat, wrapping around the hull. His other tentacle reached for the rear, latching on tightly. A strong gust of wind hit him square in the chest, and Chauncey giggled as he was lifted up from the rowboat, tentacles stretching, suction cups keeping him from floating away. He rose in the air above them, and it was then that Arthur saw what he was doing: Chauncey had turned himself into a parachute of sorts that cast a green tinge down upon them.
Just when Arthur thought they would tip over, they reached the crest of the wave, water spraying in their faces, blinding them, Lucy shrieking in joy, his hands above his head as Linus tried to keep him from falling overboard. The hurricane around them suddenly stopped as if a switch had flipped, and Arthur opened his eyes and leaned over the side of the rowboat.
They were flying.
They were flying.
The sea was at least fifty feet below them, the rowboat slicing through the air as Chauncey rode the tailwind toward the island. He was still laughing, sounding almost hysterical as the tidal wave collapsed beneath them with a tremendous splash. “Holy freaking crap!” he called down. “I didn’t think that would work!”
David and Phee poked their heads out of the box. “Are we still alive?” David asked.
“Again!” Lucy cried, bouncing on Linus’s lap. “Again!”
“Never again,” Linus said, his face doing a remarkable impression of Chauncey’s natural color. “I don’t think I could survive another—”
They all screamed when the rowboat suddenly dropped ten feet, Arthur’s stomach rising to his throat.
“Uh-oh,” Chauncey said, stalks shriveling until his eyes rested on top of his head. “The wind is slowing down again. I’m sorry, we’re going to crash and probably die horribly. I love you guys.”
Theodore chirped and clicked excitedly, head bobbing up and down.
Arthur suddenly grinned. “You’re right, Theodore. He is porous!”
“Rude!” Chauncey cried as they dropped another five feet. “I’m trying my best!”
Theodore leapt from his perch on Sal, landing on the floor of the rowboat. He turned his head left, then right before wiggling his body as he crouched low, tail flicking behind him. Without hesitation, he shot his head up toward Chauncey, scales flashing with light as he opened his maw, rows of fangs on display as his tongue pulled back. Green fire bloomed from the wyvern, a blinding burst of flame that slammed into Chauncey, inflating him once more.
“Ooh,” Chauncey said with a wet giggle. “That tickles.”
“Well done, you,” Arthur said, patting Theodore between the wings on his back as the wyvern continued to breathe fire into his brother.
Linus decided it was time to vomit over the side of the rowboat, Talia rubbing his back, thanking him for feeding Frank and the rest of the fishes. When he sat back down, his face was white and slick with sweat, or possibly seawater. Or both. In a weak voice, he said, “We can’t tell the inspector we turned Chauncey into a hot-air balloon and had him fly us home. I shudder to think how that would look in a report.”
“But you said we could be whatever we wanted,” Phee reminded him. “Why would you take this away from Chauncey?”
Linus sighed. “I did say that, didn’t I? New house rule. Chauncey can be a hot-air balloon if he wishes, but only in present company, not excluding Zoe.”
“Or Helen,” David said.
“Or Helen,” Linus agreed.
“Or J-Bone,” Lucy said. “Because if you think I’m not going to tell him about this the next time I go to the record store, you’re out of your damn mind.”
Linus closed his eyes and smiled weakly. “Yes. That’s something I tell myself constantly.”
They landed on the beach, the rowboat hitting the sand with a rattle that caused them all to stumble. Theodore pulled back his fire, and Chauncey withered as he floated toward the beach, dropping the last couple of feet into the sand.
Linus crawled over the side of the rowboat, lying on his back in the sand, pulling piles of sand over to him and hugging them. “Oh, ground. My sweet, sweet ground. I’ll never take you for granted again.”
“Children,” Arthur said as they all picked themselves up. “What did we learn from today’s adventure?”
“Grapes aren’t very filling,” Chauncey said. “Because I’m hungry.”
“Too right,” Arthur said, sitting on the bench seat as his fiancé continued to extoll the virtues of land. “Next time, we’ll pack sandwiches. Phee?”
“I learned that Lucy can make tidal waves,” Phee said. “I didn’t think he could. I told him as much, so. You know. My bad.”
