Mayday by Jonathan Friesen Page B

rocked on her bed. “Mom left for the night.”
    â€œWith Jude?”
    Crow shook her head. “After you went to school, Mom flipped. She said she needed time to think. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
    That’s not how it went down the first time. Mom was here on Mayday. Of all the nights, on
this
night, she needs to be here.
    â€œI have a bad feeling.” Crow stared out her window. A late-afternoon thunderstorm boomed the sky, and the air hung heavy. Either Shane had asthma, or panic—thick and palpable—souped up my lungs.
    Adele drew quietly in her sketchbook. “Crow, I think this is turning out pretty good. I’ll need a story for this one.”
    Crow peeked at me. “I’m coming, Addy.” She hopped down and sat cross-legged by her sister. Addy rested her head on Crow’s shoulder, and I cried . . . tears that made no sense. I came back to help Addy, but as I watched the sisters, my heart broke for Crow. She gave up her life—her carefree childhood, her passion to write, her rightful place in this family—all she sacrificed for duty and love. She was more than a hero. I mean, I was. Once again, it was so clear.
    I turned, as sappy emotion wouldn’t sit well with Crow. Behind me, Crow began.
    â€œThat’s an impressive boat. Okay, once upon a time there was a ship, sailing on the Endless Sea.”
    â€œWho’s on it?” Addy jumped in. “I need the characters.”
    â€œYou’ll find out. The crew was a bunch of scoundrels. Pirate types. Years ago, in the darkness of night, they attacked the boat, set its rightful captain onto a deserted island, and sailed out into deep waters.
    â€œIt was a harsh crew, except for one maiden, beautiful and kind. Truth told, she wasn’t a pirate at all, but the child of the captain.”
    Addy interrupted. “Make a happy ending, just this once.”
    â€œHappy ending. So young was the maiden that she could not remember her father’s fate, and soon her gentleness won over the crew. Even the cruelest man treated her kindly. But of those on board, her closest friend was not one of the pirates, but a troll.
    He lived belowdecks with the rats. Only the maiden visited him. Only the maiden spoke to him. Only the maiden loved him.”
    Crow paused, and Addy spoke. “Did he love her back?”
    â€œOh, yes. He loved her back.”
    Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Crow looked up. “A storm, furious and violent, swept down from the East, catching the ship unawares. The boat experienced a lashing: the mast broke in two; the hull split; and the men scrambled for lifeboats.
    â€œBut not the maiden. She climbed into the hold, where the troll sat, half covered with water. ‘Come! Quickly! I won’t leave this ship without you.’
    â€œCoaxed on, the troll rose, and together they climbed onto the deck. But the ship listed, and the two tumbled. They were alone. The lifeboats and crew were gone, and all they had was each other.”
    â€œYou said this was going to end up all right,” Addy said.
    Crow nodded. “I did promise that. As they huddled together now near death as they had in life, a lightning bolt struck the ship, the hull broke into pieces. They dropped toward the sea, and bounced.”
    â€œBounced?”
    â€œBounced. Like we did on the trampoline. Bounced. But not high. They’d fallen into a raft.”
    â€œIt’s the dad, the captain, right?” Addy squeezed Crow’s arm. “The dad came back for them.”
    â€œNo, not the father.”
    â€œThen who was it? Who saved them?”
    Crow glanced up at me and smiled gently. “I’m not sure. That, perhaps, you’ll find out in part two.”
    â€œI’m never . . .” Addy swatted Crow with the sketchbook. “I hate it when you do that.”
    Crow rejoined me on the bed.
    â€œA raft?” I asked.
    â€œIt fit the