Page 19 of Hunter

“We are family!” belts Beto, appropriating the Sister Sledge tune as he squeezes me closer, hip bumping me back and forth. “I got all mycousinswith me!”

“Well, you’ve certainly got a theme song!” says Nat, delighted with Beto’s antics.

“Bruh, me and Izzy are in it to win it, yo!”

“I love it. I love it,” says Nat, high-fiving my cousin. Suddenly, his voice gets serious. “So tell me, Beto, what Alaskan destination has you the most nervous?”

“Nervous?Callate, bruh! I got nerves of steel.”

“No worries, huh? Bold words! How about you, Izzy? Are you as confident as your cousin?”

I lean forward a little, about to answer, when Beto laughs gregariously. “Izzy isallconfidence, yo! We’re the team to beat!”

Feeling annoyed that I can’t get a word in edgewise, I smile at Nat. “We’ve got this.”

“You heard it here first,Astonishing RaceNation! Team Primos has got it!”

Nat steps between us, putting his arms around both of our shoulders for a photo op.

“Thumbs up, kids,” he mutters, flashing his pearly whites.

When the camera stops flashing and clicking, he steps away from us without a second glance.

“Any more teams right now?” he asks his assistant as a makeup person blots the sweat on his forehead, then dusts his face with powder.

“You’ve got a little break. Next team isn’t coming for…half an hour.”

“I’m getting a drink,” says Nat, stepping back onto the boat.

I feel like an idiot, still standing on the blue mat, but not Beto. He’s taking a series of selfies with his tongue out, thumbs up, tongue in, peace sign…my head spins.

“Um,” I say to the assistant, “are we done here?”

“Yeah,” she says distractedly. “You can go on board to check in. Find Gita—she’s at a table in the dining room. She’ll give you your cabin assignment—John! Do we have a bead on the next team? Yes or no?” She speaks into the microphone attached to her headphones. “What? Damn it! Nat just went to the bar, so stall them, huh? I’ll try to get him back.” She turns to me, eyes wide, voice annoyed. “Was there something else?”

“N-No,” I say. “We’ll…go find the dining room—um, check in.”

I trudge up the gangplank with Beto trailing behind me, my eyes adjusting to the dim light inside the ship after the bright sun outside. A frazzled-looking woman sits at a round table, surrounded by stacks of paper, keycards, and various sound equipment.

“Team Primos?” she barks without looking up from her laptop.

“That’s us,” I say, stepping up to the table. “Are you Gita?”

She doesn’t answer. “Roberto and Isabella Gonzalez, yes?”

I nod. “Yes.”

She grabs a manila envelope and thrusts it toward me. “Cabin assignment, key cards, waivers, and schedule for today and tomorrow. Return the forms to your purser. Your cameraman will be assigned at dinner. Sound changes daily. Any questions…” She throws up her hands. “Find someone else to ask.”

I back away from the table with Beto behind me, no doubt posting his selfies to social media while I’m left to find the way to our cabin. Our shared cabin.(God help me.)

“Excuse me,” I call to a uniformed crew member walking toward us. “Can you point me toward…” I look down at the manila envelope. “Cabin 208?”

“Lucky ducky,” says the crew member, whose name tag identifies him as Yuri, “you’ve got an admiral class cabin. Follow me.”

Relieved to finally find someone who appears willing to help us, I fall into step behind him, down a narrow hallway. “Just out of curiosity, why are we lucky?”

“This vessel has five classes of cabins. You’re in the second largest. You’ll have enough room to move around a little. And a real window.”

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