When Whitley winds up on the top of a pirate hit-list thanks to her con-artist father, she must hide her identity and board another pirate ship, trusting in one shape-shifting pirate named Bluff to help her escape. Too bad you can never, ever, trust...
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Whitley
The Freedom grows larger and larger and despite what Bluff said, I can't stop the hope from bubbling up. I believe him— that something isn't right, that climbing aboard that ship won't be like before... but it's still better than the alternative.
For several moments I sit silently, trying not to pay too much attention to Bluff's tense shoulders and occasional jerking movements that could expose him trying to escape his rope bindings.
I'm not even sure what we'd do once he got free. Fight the crew of both ships? This one, I guess maybe he could succeed. Maybe, just maybe, he could defeat the mob of kid pirates, take control, turn the little ship around and flee.
But that's only if we do it before it too late and The Freedom is getting closer with each passing second. Bluff's shoulders relax suddenly and I wonder if he's come to the same conclusion.
"It's still better than Simon," I say quietly without taking my eyes off the sails now shadowing over us.
He's quiet for a long moment. "We'll be headed towards Simon, don't get that twisted."
I swallow. "Maybe," I say even lower. "But it's a detour. Gives us more time."
Bluff bites the side of his mouth then nods slowly. "I'd feel better if it wasn't a crew that knew me well."
"Why?"
"They know my tricks. They'll be prepared for them. This crew, for example," he nods his head toward a few of the children pirates at the bow, "wouldn't see it coming if I threw Knick overboard, took his skin and ordered the ship to turn around... but looks like its too late for that."
I clench my jaw. I hadn't even considered that.
"Well figure it out," I whisper, heart pounding, just wanting to say something positive. There has to be a way out of this.
He turns to me, eyes wide yet soft. What is he thinking?
He nods. "Guess we're in this together."
I give a small smile and try to hide the sadness that suddenly floods me. To me, we've been in it together for a while. But have we really? He was planning to sail away without me. I don't know what changed his mind—was it the kiss? Or because he knew Simon was coming? Or something else? He's always so secretive I can't quite figure him out.
Then there's the words he shot at me, stabbing me in the stomach, twisting even still, as we fled Simon's crew back in New York. I don't care...
I look back to the Freedom, the crew of both ships working quickly to tie the ships together, throwing over a ladder to allow crossing (a plank won't work as the Freedom is nearly twice the size). This takes longer than I expect, long moments of subtle shifts between the two ships. A delicate process, I guess, not unlike docking a ship. Maybe worse.
