Read Online Girl at Sea by Maureen Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Maureen Johnson
Tags: Fiction, General, Social Science, People & Places, Action & Adventure, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Fathers and daughters, Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Europe, Girls & Women, Sports & Recreation, Parents, Archaeology, Italy, Science & Technology, Transportation, Artists, Boats and boating, Art & Architecture, Boating, Yachting, Boats; Ships & Underwater Craft
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amazing,” Elsa said.
Julia stepped closer to Clio’s dad, not quite hooking her arm through his but getting close enough to show her approval.
“We can all come together in here,” he went on. “After a hard day at sea. The galley—kitchen—is through here.”
61
Her father led them to a full kitchen with sleek silver-and-black built-in appliances. Half the Williams-Sonoma catalog was stuffed in there. Clio picked up an icing tube that sat on the marble counter.
“For all of those fancy pastries we like to make?” she asked.
“It all came with the boat,” her father said quickly. “All of it.
You haven’t even seen half the place. Come on.”
Just past the kitchen was a tight circular staircase extending both up and down. They went down first, ending up in a surprisingly long hallway. The walls were made of shiny, violin-colored wood and there was low-key lighting running along the floor, like in movie theaters. Along this hallway were several doors. Her father opened the door to most of them using a single master key, revealing four snug bedrooms. Clio felt a little too much emphasis was put on showing her that Julia had her own room. He passed by a few doors and proceeded to the end of the hall.
“What are in those?” Clio asked.
“Oh, just supplies and stuff. Speaking of . . . it’s starting to get dark, and our loading hour will be up soon. You guys should probably go get your things from the van; then I can show you the rest.”
They went back up the stairs, and Martin, Elsa, Aidan, and Julia went back to the raft to transport themselves to the dock.
Clio’s father watched them through the glass doors, then leaned over to Clio conspiratorially.
“I wanted to show you this in private,” he said. “It’s the best part.”
“Is it the part with the phone or the computer?” she asked.
“Nope. It’s your room. Upstairs!”
They went back to the circular stairs and walked up. They 62
ended up in a very small vestibule with a highly slanted, half-windowed wall that looked out over the back of the boat, the black water, and the moon. Behind them there was one honey-colored door leading to the only room on this level of the boat.
“Go on in,” he said quietly.
The room behind that door was about three times the size of the rooms downstairs. The carpet was thicker here, a plush, fuzzy lawn, softer than slippers. Her father flipped a switch, and a dozen unseen lights came to life, bathing the room in a soft, almost rosy light. The walls were wallpapered in a champagne color, in a pattern embossed in tiny circles. It was as if the room was very impressed with itself and going oooooh , in a slightly drunk kind of way.
“This is evening lighting,” he said. “There’s also . . .”
Extremely bright, yellowish light, bright as day, then half of that, then a few pinpoint lights illuminating various corners of the room. They zeroed in on two sleek dressing tables that had been built into the walls, one on the window side and one opposite. The bed was wide. Its padded, semicircular head-board was firmly attached to the wall, and the base seemed to be solidly joined to whatever was underneath the coffee-colored carpet. It wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what this boat did.
“The best part is through that door,” he said with a proud grin.
There was a wood veneer door on the side—the super-shiny and extra-swirly wood she had never seen outside of a car dashboard. The door slid back into a groove in the wall, revealing a not-huge bathroom, but still one much larger than a 63
boat bathroom was ever likely to be. It had two sinks, with gleaming brass fixtures that emptied into perfectly scooped-out basins. There was a wall-length mirror surrounded by round bulbs, dressing-room style—so bright that it caused Clio to step back in alarm as her reflection blasted at her. On the wall there was a panel of controls—fans, a dimmer, volume control for an unseen sound system. The
Julia stepped closer to Clio’s dad, not quite hooking her arm through his but getting close enough to show her approval.
“We can all come together in here,” he went on. “After a hard day at sea. The galley—kitchen—is through here.”
61
Her father led them to a full kitchen with sleek silver-and-black built-in appliances. Half the Williams-Sonoma catalog was stuffed in there. Clio picked up an icing tube that sat on the marble counter.
“For all of those fancy pastries we like to make?” she asked.
“It all came with the boat,” her father said quickly. “All of it.
You haven’t even seen half the place. Come on.”
Just past the kitchen was a tight circular staircase extending both up and down. They went down first, ending up in a surprisingly long hallway. The walls were made of shiny, violin-colored wood and there was low-key lighting running along the floor, like in movie theaters. Along this hallway were several doors. Her father opened the door to most of them using a single master key, revealing four snug bedrooms. Clio felt a little too much emphasis was put on showing her that Julia had her own room. He passed by a few doors and proceeded to the end of the hall.
“What are in those?” Clio asked.
“Oh, just supplies and stuff. Speaking of . . . it’s starting to get dark, and our loading hour will be up soon. You guys should probably go get your things from the van; then I can show you the rest.”
They went back up the stairs, and Martin, Elsa, Aidan, and Julia went back to the raft to transport themselves to the dock.
Clio’s father watched them through the glass doors, then leaned over to Clio conspiratorially.
“I wanted to show you this in private,” he said. “It’s the best part.”
“Is it the part with the phone or the computer?” she asked.
“Nope. It’s your room. Upstairs!”
They went back to the circular stairs and walked up. They 62
ended up in a very small vestibule with a highly slanted, half-windowed wall that looked out over the back of the boat, the black water, and the moon. Behind them there was one honey-colored door leading to the only room on this level of the boat.
“Go on in,” he said quietly.
The room behind that door was about three times the size of the rooms downstairs. The carpet was thicker here, a plush, fuzzy lawn, softer than slippers. Her father flipped a switch, and a dozen unseen lights came to life, bathing the room in a soft, almost rosy light. The walls were wallpapered in a champagne color, in a pattern embossed in tiny circles. It was as if the room was very impressed with itself and going oooooh , in a slightly drunk kind of way.
“This is evening lighting,” he said. “There’s also . . .”
Extremely bright, yellowish light, bright as day, then half of that, then a few pinpoint lights illuminating various corners of the room. They zeroed in on two sleek dressing tables that had been built into the walls, one on the window side and one opposite. The bed was wide. Its padded, semicircular head-board was firmly attached to the wall, and the base seemed to be solidly joined to whatever was underneath the coffee-colored carpet. It wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what this boat did.
“The best part is through that door,” he said with a proud grin.
There was a wood veneer door on the side—the super-shiny and extra-swirly wood she had never seen outside of a car dashboard. The door slid back into a groove in the wall, revealing a not-huge bathroom, but still one much larger than a 63
boat bathroom was ever likely to be. It had two sinks, with gleaming brass fixtures that emptied into perfectly scooped-out basins. There was a wall-length mirror surrounded by round bulbs, dressing-room style—so bright that it caused Clio to step back in alarm as her reflection blasted at her. On the wall there was a panel of controls—fans, a dimmer, volume control for an unseen sound system. The
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