Little Lion by Ann Hood

without any warning, leaned hard to the right, sending Felix tumbling off the sofa.
    Felix screamed. Images from the
Titanic
movie flashed across his mind. The night his family rented it, he’d had nightmares.
    Maisie and the chair slid smack into the bedroom door.
    But before either of them could get to their feet, the ship heaved to the left. Felix rolled to the other end, screaming, “Help!” the entire way.
    This time Maisie got thrown from the chair and landed in a heap beside her brother.
    The bedroom door flew open, slamming hard against the wall. Maisie caught a glimpse of Alexander, both hands on the wall for balance, moving slowly toward them.
    â€œA storm,” he managed to say before—once again—the
Thunderbolt
sent Maisie and Felix across the floor.
    â€œWe’re all going to die!” Felix cried.
    From the small window in the sitting room, they saw flashes of lightning. The rain, which had been falling steadily for several days now, pounded the window. From the hall outside the room came the sound of people running and shouting.
    The ship rocked, back and forth, as if it, too, were trying to find its balance.
    â€œAlexander!” Maisie yelled above the din. “Should we go on deck?” As afraid as she was, somehow she felt safer with him in charge.
    â€œStay here until I find out what’s going on,” he said.
    From the floor, she watched as he fought gravity, pulling himself across the room and out the door.
    Felix grabbed hold of the legs of the desk and held on tight.
    â€œOh,” he said over and over. “Oh, oh, oh, oh.”
    For a few minutes, the only sounds were Felix’s whimpering, the rain hitting the window hard, the crack of thunder, and the occasional electric zap of lightning, which would light the dark blue sky.
    Then Maisie laughed.
    â€œAre you crazy?” Felix managed to ask her.
    â€œNo,” she said. “But I’m sure we’re not going to die.”
    The boat took its hardest pitch yet and Felix’s
oh
came out like a moan from a horror movie.
    Maisie laughed again. “Calm down,” she said in a perfectly normal voice. “This ship is not going to sink because Alexander Hamilton is on it. Obviously he makes it to New York and goes on to do whatever it is he goes on to do.”
    â€œRight,” Felix said, trying to get his hands and legs to stop shaking. “But we don’t know if the ship actually sinks, and he manages to survive. We don’t know if maybe he floated around in the ocean for days waiting to be rescued. Maybe . . .”
    He stopped himself. The possibilities were too terrifying to say out loud. Once again visions of the
Titanic
movie popped into his head, this time ones from
after
it sunk.
    â€œOh,” Felix whimpered.
    The door creaked open, and Alexander came back inside the cabin.
    â€œIt’s a pretty bad storm,” he said, holding on to the doorframe. “I think we should ride it out down here.”
    â€œDo—do—they think we’re going to sink?” Felix stammered.
    â€œWe just have to ride the storm out,” Alexander said firmly.
    â€œWe will,” Maisie said.
    â€œOh,” Felix moaned as the ship lurched yet again.
    $  $  $  $  $
    â€œI told you so,” Maisie whispered to Felix when the storm finally ended the next day. All night they had rolled and swayed in the cabin, holding on to the edges of whatever they sat or laid on. Alexander managed to bring them some broth from the dining room where, he reported, glasses and dishes were breaking with regularity.
    â€œWell, excuse me for not wanting to get shipwrecked or lost at sea or . . .” Once again he stopped himself. Even though they had survived the storm, what might have happened still had him trembling.
    Maisie picked up the dot game. “Now,” she said, “where were we?”
    From outside their cabin,