explain how that works. We’re just so…
ignorant
.” She silently thanked Jem for arming her with a few big words.
Scarlet’s father shot her a look, but oddly, the anger in it didn’t seem directed at her.
Across from her, Ben’s face clouded over, and he stared hard at his soup.
“Well,” Humphries harrumphed from down the table. “That’s hardly a topic for young ladies to discuss.”
There was an awkward pause, then Cecily spoke up again. “Oh, excuse poor Scarlet, Father,” she said, her lips pressed into a tight, vengeful line. “She goes to an island school where they aren’t taught real manners.”
“You little—” Scarlet began.
“Miss Scarlet!” Ben cried, then lowered his voice. “Y-you were about to tell us about your favorite class at school.” His eyes pleaded her to say something that made sense.
“Oh, that’s right.” Cecily smiled. “Pray tell, what is it, Scarlet?”
“Well.” Scarlet cleared her throat and tried hard to remember classes that Jem had mentioned taking. “I do enjoy… cartology.”
She heard her father sigh.
“Cartology?” Cecily repeated. “Don’t you mean
cartography
? The study of maps?”
Blast.
“No,” Scarlet said. “I mean
cartology
. The study of… carts.”
“Scarlet’s school,” Admiral McCray spoke up, “focuses on… transportation.”
“Really?” Mrs. Humphries asked, looking at Scarlet as if she’d just noticed her third eye.
“Really?” Cecily’s curls bounced suspiciously. Scarlet imagined how satisfying it would be to snip them right off, one at a time.
“That sounds terribly interesting,” said Josephine. “How very… progressive for a school to teach girls about… transportation.”
“Yes,” Scarlet agreed, unsure what
progressive
meant or why the flotsam her cousin was trying to help her. She bet Josephine and Cecily would get along splendidly. “It is.”
After that, she made a good effort to hold her tongue and concentrate on not spilling anything. And eventually, dinner came to an end. The grown-ups stood up and moved to the sitting room to discuss how lucrative Humphries’s plantation was.
“Miss Scarlet,” Ben spoke up before she could follow. “I think there’s a book in the library you might find interesting. It’s about carts,” he added. “Big ones, small ones, ones with… wheels.”
“Oh!” Scarlet stopped. “Good. I do love a good book about carts.”
“I’ll come, too.” Cecily stood up, smoothing out her skirt. Scarlet rolled her eyes.
“But I was hoping you could show me the collection of hair clips you mentioned earlier,” Josephine said. “It sounds wonderful.”
“Oh.” Cecily looked from Josephine to Ben to Scarlet. “Well, all right. It’s upstairs. We’ll just be a few minutes,” she added to Ben.
“Take your time,” he told her, and she tossed Scarlet a tiny glare.
Safe inside the library, Ben shut the door, then turned to face her, hands on hips. “All right, McCray, what the flotsam are you doing?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he went on.
“Why aren’t you with the crew? And when did you leave them for your father?”
“I didn’t leave them for my father,” she snapped. “How could you think that? I’d never leave the crew. Not like some people,” she added, for she’d had quite enough of being bullied by… by landlubbers!
Ben flinched, then gritted his teeth. “And yet, here you are.” He spread his arms wide.
“Not because I want to be,” she retorted. “This is only for a few weeks. Trust me, I’d never set foot on a plantation if I had a choice.” She glared daggers at him.
Ben tossed them right back. “There’s a new pirate captain out there, you know. He’s planning to take over the entire tropics. They call him—”
“The Rebel,” Scarlet finished. “And I call him Lucas Lawrence.”
Ben’s mouth fell open, and Scarlet rejoiced at having one-upped him. “Lucas?”
“None other,” she replied.
ignorant
.” She silently thanked Jem for arming her with a few big words.
Scarlet’s father shot her a look, but oddly, the anger in it didn’t seem directed at her.
Across from her, Ben’s face clouded over, and he stared hard at his soup.
“Well,” Humphries harrumphed from down the table. “That’s hardly a topic for young ladies to discuss.”
There was an awkward pause, then Cecily spoke up again. “Oh, excuse poor Scarlet, Father,” she said, her lips pressed into a tight, vengeful line. “She goes to an island school where they aren’t taught real manners.”
“You little—” Scarlet began.
“Miss Scarlet!” Ben cried, then lowered his voice. “Y-you were about to tell us about your favorite class at school.” His eyes pleaded her to say something that made sense.
“Oh, that’s right.” Cecily smiled. “Pray tell, what is it, Scarlet?”
“Well.” Scarlet cleared her throat and tried hard to remember classes that Jem had mentioned taking. “I do enjoy… cartology.”
She heard her father sigh.
“Cartology?” Cecily repeated. “Don’t you mean
cartography
? The study of maps?”
Blast.
“No,” Scarlet said. “I mean
cartology
. The study of… carts.”
“Scarlet’s school,” Admiral McCray spoke up, “focuses on… transportation.”
“Really?” Mrs. Humphries asked, looking at Scarlet as if she’d just noticed her third eye.
“Really?” Cecily’s curls bounced suspiciously. Scarlet imagined how satisfying it would be to snip them right off, one at a time.
“That sounds terribly interesting,” said Josephine. “How very… progressive for a school to teach girls about… transportation.”
“Yes,” Scarlet agreed, unsure what
progressive
meant or why the flotsam her cousin was trying to help her. She bet Josephine and Cecily would get along splendidly. “It is.”
After that, she made a good effort to hold her tongue and concentrate on not spilling anything. And eventually, dinner came to an end. The grown-ups stood up and moved to the sitting room to discuss how lucrative Humphries’s plantation was.
“Miss Scarlet,” Ben spoke up before she could follow. “I think there’s a book in the library you might find interesting. It’s about carts,” he added. “Big ones, small ones, ones with… wheels.”
“Oh!” Scarlet stopped. “Good. I do love a good book about carts.”
“I’ll come, too.” Cecily stood up, smoothing out her skirt. Scarlet rolled her eyes.
“But I was hoping you could show me the collection of hair clips you mentioned earlier,” Josephine said. “It sounds wonderful.”
“Oh.” Cecily looked from Josephine to Ben to Scarlet. “Well, all right. It’s upstairs. We’ll just be a few minutes,” she added to Ben.
“Take your time,” he told her, and she tossed Scarlet a tiny glare.
Safe inside the library, Ben shut the door, then turned to face her, hands on hips. “All right, McCray, what the flotsam are you doing?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he went on.
“Why aren’t you with the crew? And when did you leave them for your father?”
“I didn’t leave them for my father,” she snapped. “How could you think that? I’d never leave the crew. Not like some people,” she added, for she’d had quite enough of being bullied by… by landlubbers!
Ben flinched, then gritted his teeth. “And yet, here you are.” He spread his arms wide.
“Not because I want to be,” she retorted. “This is only for a few weeks. Trust me, I’d never set foot on a plantation if I had a choice.” She glared daggers at him.
Ben tossed them right back. “There’s a new pirate captain out there, you know. He’s planning to take over the entire tropics. They call him—”
“The Rebel,” Scarlet finished. “And I call him Lucas Lawrence.”
Ben’s mouth fell open, and Scarlet rejoiced at having one-upped him. “Lucas?”
“None other,” she replied.
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