Page 122 of Without a Clue

Do I try to bunk with Neena?

Somehow the thought of her purple-sashed arms gives me a mental sense of warmth.

That’s what I’ll do.

I’ll sleep on the floor of Neena’s room. I don’t know how a sixty-eight-year-old woman can protect me, but I have to believe her unbridled, temporarily insane joy will cover me.

Let’s just focus on the now, Pip.

Those are trials to come.

Right now, it’s time to talk to Gordon.

Chapter 22

“I didn’t know something like this existed on this ship.”

“Did you not?” Gordon says. His wizard hat is planted firmly on his head, and his hands are spinning at the retro-colored green and red buttons of the old arcade game. I can’t be sure, but I believe he’s winning. There are quite a few zeros beside his name.

“It’s all so . . .” I scan the room. “Um . . .” How do I say this without offense exactly? “It just doesn’t look like the kind of thing this type of cruise liner would have.”

Let’s just say, when booking, I was paying far more attention to the thread-count situation and free lobster than if it carried Donkey Kong.

But to be fair, the chaotically zigzagging golden, black, and red carpet looks like it is vacuumed every hour on the hour, and despite the thirty or so antiquated gaming machines around us, it’s no challenge for the peacock bow-tie staff, who are roller-skating around all of us with silver trays in hand.

Someone drops a drink on a tray without looking away from their game, and the staff member doesn’t even slow in gliding by.

There are sconces on the walls here, just like there are all around the ship, but these ones flicker ominously, purposefully, like we’re in a dungeon.

And the wallpaper, most bizarre yet most fitting, is a deep maroon with figures of gold coins and dragons.

Hence the clever name to the place hanging over the door: The Dungeon.

“I like the one in The Hole better than this. It’s bigger.” Gordon makes a face. “But Hazel hogs the best machines.”

“Who’s Hazel?”

“Reader.”

Ah. So we are now in petty wars with elderly guests we meet on a cruise ship. Nice.

“Have you not been there?” he says, finding this idea so preposterous that he’s willing to break eye contact with the game to shoot me a glance.

I’m not sure of the goal still, but it looks like his game character is an elf who thoroughly enjoys bounding through a forest.

“No, I’ve only been down there once,” I say, hedging the topic and the fact that the whole place gave me a panic attack.

One of his bushy salt-and-pepper brows rises as he looks me over. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the video game.

“What?” I say.

“You work too hard,” Gordon says.

“Well, we’ve had a little more going on than just work.”

He shakes his head, and it’s silent between us but for the manic tapping of his finger on the retro red and green buttons.

“You’re too young and life is too short for you to be spending the whole holiday like this.”