Free Xander and the Lost Island of Monsters by Margaret Dilloway Page B

like I just porked down an entire large pepperoni pizza and guzzled a liter of root beer on top of it. But I have to start swimming, because I’m already sinking.
    I make my way to the boat, slower than a turtle on land.
Woof!
Inu barks at me from the deck.
    Peyton sticks his head over the railing. “Just grab the ladder and climb up.”
    I grip the rope. “Really? I thought I was
not
going to grab it and just drown.”
    â€œHa-ha.” Peyton watches me climb. “Just get to where I can reach you, and I’ll pull you up.”
    I grunt and wheeze. Climbing a rope ladder like this looks a lot easier than it actually is. The ladder bangs against the side of the ship, smashing my fingers, and clutching it for dear life is giving me rope burn. I grit my teeth. If I’m this exhausted already, how am I ever going to get to wherever my dad is? I’ll be in a wheelchair by then.
    Finally, when I’m near the top, Peyton grabs me under the armpits and hoists me all the way onto the deck. I sprawl face-first, my palms splayed on the polished wood. At least there are no splinters. Inu shakes himself dry, getting bits of fur and doggy water all over me. I sit up, breathing hard.
    â€œYou made it.” Peyton claps my back.
    â€œBarely.” If this is Part One of being a warrior, I don’t think I’ll survive any other part. I still can’t catch my breath with the cramp that’s knifing my side. Now I wish I’d chosen to jog around the track during PE instead of just walking. If only the coach had yelled,
Xander, run, because one day you might be on a pirate ship searching for your father and fighting demons.
If I’d known that, I definitely would have tried harder in that class.
    I look around. It’s full-on night now, but a light glows from below. “Are we alone?”
    Peyton, on the other hand, appears to be experiencing emotions opposite of mine. “Yeah,” he says with a grin. “Totally alone. How awesome is this? No parents. No adults. Nobody telling us what to do!” He climbs six feet up the netting that hugs the mast. “Woo-hoo!”
    Well, it’s nice that
he’s
feeling at home here. But I’m not. How are Peyton and I supposed to sail this thing by ourselves? I’ve never even rowed a boat. Not even in a video game. And sailing is the one activity Peyton’s dad hasn’t done with him.
    Maybe I don’t have to worry about it. The wind flaps through the canvas sails, and there’s a creaking noise as the sails shift on their own.
    The ship glides away from shore.

W e descend a short ladder into the cabin, helping Inu balance on the rungs. There’s a small kitchen with a wooden table and a bench built into the side of the ship.
Galley
, I correct myself. That’s what a kitchen is called on a ship. No fridge, but there is an old-looking gas stove and cupboards. One lamp glows above the table.
    Kerosene sconces on the walls burst into life as soon as our feet touch the floor. Torches with sensors?
    Peyton busies himself opening cupboards. “I could eat an elephant. Or at least a large pony.” He shakes his head. “Sheesh. Nothing.” He slams a door shut.
    My gut agrees with him, growling so loud that Inu cocks his head at me. He wags his tail and yips. “You hungry, too, Inu?” I guess the swim settled my stomach. You wouldn’t think I’d want to eat after all that has happened, but we hadn’t been able to finish our dinner before the world turned upside down. I start looking through the cupboards, too. “If I were food, where would I be hiding?”
    Inu sniffs around and points with his snout at the cabinet above a hammered copper sink.
Woof!
    That alone is a really good reason to have a dog around: sense of smell.
    I open the cupboard and inside is a lacquered square
bento
box. It’s full of rice balls.
Onigiri
, my grandma calls them. Made of steamed white