Page 50 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“Hold on,” he says gruffly.He pulls back from me and peers out the windows.I can’t see what he sees, too focused on him and only him.A silver hair slips out from beneath his ear, falling into his eyes as I lean forward and catch it between my fingers.“There’s a storm coming,” he whispers.He frowns as he brushes hair from my eyes before cupping my face oncemore, smoothing his thumb over my cheek.“The seas may be choppy, Laszlo.Will you be all right?”

The ship sways again, and I press a hand to the wall for balance as my stomach roils.“Yeah, like you said, it’s just a bit choppy.”I can feel it working its way up my throat, the acid building.

Stop thinking about the ocean, Laszlo.It’s fine.You’re not going to plunge into its depths.

He stares at me, worry written in the creases in his brow.“Laszlo—” he starts.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”I rush past him and shove open one of the windows as I empty out my stomach over the back of the ship.

16Having a Whale of a Time

Someonepats my back as I heave over the side of the ship.I thought I was done.I thought my body had grown used to it.But apparently, some people (namely me) never get over seasickness.

“Make it stop,” I say, moaning.It hurts to even talk.The pain is so excruciating, it feels as though I’ve swallowed one of Captain Night’s knives and it’s lodged itself in my throat.

“Ah, there you go,” Mick says soothingly.He squeezes my shoulder gently, and the motion makes me gag, as though he’s wringing out my stomach.

It’s the worst feeling, I think.My insides feel hollowed out, and my entire body aches with each heave of my stomach.It’s as if someone has filled me with acid and shaken me up.My mouth tastes disgusting, and my throat is dry and achy, but I can’t keep anything down.Chills rack my body, my strength all but evaporated.

Everyone keeps telling me I’ll get over it, that this will get easier, but I think they’re lying to make me feel better.

“I thought I was done.”

“You know,” Eddie starts, sidling up next to us, “they say seasickness comes inwaves.”

Jack, Mick, and I all groan in unison.

“That may be the worst one yet,” Jack says with a shake of his head.

I open my mouth to reply but surge over the railing to dry heave.This is torture.There is nothing left in my body.

With a sigh, I roll over and blink up at the sky and the dark gray clouds that have rolled in these last few days.Sir nudges my cheek with his cold, wet nose, probably to see if I’m still alive.I scratch his head weakly, eliciting a purr.The wind is choppy, and the water is choppier.The more the ship shifts, the more my body refuses to acclimate.I haven’t eaten anything but bone broth in three days, and if I swallow another mouthful, I’m going to lose it.

“Why don’ you lay down, Laszlo?”Jack says, stopping to my right.

“I’m already lying down.”

“Why don’ you lie down belowdecks, hmm?”

“No one else is lying down,” I argue.

“Yes, butyoushould lie down,” Mick says from somewhere to my right.“Somewhere else,” he adds.

“They say seasickness comes inwaves,” Eddie booms.Again.

Wiping my chin, I squint up at the man.“Eddie, I’m usually a fan of your jokes, but you’ve already used that one.”I gag, and Sir lurches away.“Like, literally a minute ago.Did you think repeating it would elicit laughter?”

“I’m running out of jokes, Laszlo.I thought perhaps you hadn’t heard me the first time.”

“Oh, we ’eard you,” Jack mutters.

Mick frowns.“How many jokes do you have, Eddie?Ten?”

“A few more ’n that,” Eddie mumbles.

Jack rolls his eyes and shares a look with Mick over me.“Laszlo, we’ve all been out at sea for years now.You’ve been ’ere for a few weeks, mate.Why don’ you go get some sleep, hmm?”

Before I can protest any more, Mick and Jack lift me by my armpits.I struggle to stand, my hands gripping the railing for balance, knuckles bone white.I open my mouth to retort, but another wave of nausea threatens.Holding up a hand, I lean over and vomit the last of the broth.