The Girl from Everywhere (The Girl from Everywhere #1)(16)
I should have guessed Kashmir would become a nuisance. And a bad influence. But most importantly, a friend.
And all in the last two years, in times and places I’d never have visited had my history been different. Slate himself had warned me, a few days after he’d learned about our newest crew member: “He wasn’t always here, and he won’t be here forever.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry at the memory. My father only had two years with Lin. Would it be worse to lose Kashmir, or never to have known him? For a moment, I pitied Slate as much as I resented him.
The necklace blurred in my vision and I blinked rapidly. Then I held out my hand, and Kashmir dropped the pearl into it, the chain pooling like mercury in my palm. Who had he stolen it from? Did she know it’d been taken, or did she think it was only lost? It would soon join the rest of my growing collection: a gold bracelet, ruby earrings, even a thick platinum band too big to fit any of my fingers. I never wore the stuff, but Kash took any excuse to give me stolen jewelry. He didn’t seem to care that I didn’t enjoy acquiring it half so well as he did, and it tickled him to take theft day literally. “Thanks, Kash.”
He waved my words away. “It’s nothing. Besides,” he added with a grimace and a nod toward the captain’s cabin. “I can see you’ve already got a seagull around your neck.”
“The saying is ‘albatross.’” I sighed. “And this particular albatross is an inheritance from my mother. A family heirloom.”
“Heavy burden to bear. Makes me glad I never had a family.”
The breeze ran its fingers through my hair. I twisted my curls together and knotted them at the nape of my neck. “You didn’t leave anyone behind when you ran?”
A secret smile in his eyes didn’t reach his lips. “No one who would miss me. Not like you, if you go.”
I snorted. “You give the captain more credit than he deserves.”
Now the smile appeared. “I wasn’t talking about him.” He winked outrageously; I laughed. Then Kash reached over to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear; the hammock swayed gently, or was it the ship? Behind us, the city sparkled with lights, reflected in the black water. “You’ve never been a little curious?” he said. “About where you’re from?”
“I’m not from Hawaii. I was just born there. And even if I was curious, I wouldn’t want to be stuck there forever. There are so many other places to see.”
“Well,” he said then, straightening. “Seeing as how you’re saving up to run away, shall I take that trinket to your room and throw it on the pile?” He held out his hand.
His joke hit too close to home. “Who said anything about me running away?” But I thought again of my map of Rome and my little stack of bills, hidden at the bottom of my trunk—the first place anyone would look. I glared at him. “I wish you’d stay out of my room.”
“That’s a funny joke, princess, when you’re talking to a thief.”
I passed the necklace over. “Not a very good one, if you give away all your loot.”
“I enjoy it too much to stop.”
“Stealing jewelry from people in port?”
“Bringing you treasures you care nothing for.” He spoke lightly, but his words were too flippant and behind his eyes was something I recognized: loneliness. The moment stretched.
“I do,” I said finally. “I do care.” I looked at the necklace, glimmering in his palm, and saw it with new eyes: in all our scrambling for money, I’d never once considered selling off the jewelry he’d stolen for me. “Here.” I bowed my head and lifted my hair out of the way. Kashmir hesitated before he leaned in, his nimble hands darting around my throat and attaching the clasp at the nape of my neck. His breath smelled of cloves, and his fingers were warm.
I bit my lip, trying to remember the Farsi phrase I’d found in an Iranian guidebook and tucked away in my head for a moment like this. “Takashor.”
He laughed, showing his white teeth. “Tashakor,” he repeated.
“That’s what I said.”
“No, it’s not.”
I pursed my lips. “All right. Let me try again. Thank you, my friend,” I reiterated, this time in my own language. I put my hand to the pearl. “It’s beautiful.”
“As are you, amira,” he said, putting his hand over mine, and we both smiled like it didn’t mean anything.
The next morning, we left the harbor and returned down the Hudson, our sails glowing like paper lanterns in the sun. We passed the buoys at the mouth of the river and skimmed the foamy waves of the green Atlantic as my fears approached and circled like sharks.
Not a cloud marred the sky and the horizon was clear; soon the coast of Long Island was a distant rim on a bowl of mazarine blue. Bee had her hand lightly on the wheel, and Rotgut sat in the crow’s nest, his feet swinging like a child’s in a big chair. I leaned over the rail at the bow, tugging at the pearl of my necklace. The captain was still in his cabin, but Kashmir was trimming the sails.
“A little help, amira?”
Side by side, we cleared the deck, as we did before any Navigation . . . or attempted Navigation. As I worked, it was easy to forget, but after we finished securing the boom, we had nothing left to do but wait.
I stood in the meager shade of the mast. The wind from the south toyed with my hair and made the sea shimmer. It was foolish to worry, I told myself. The map wouldn’t work. No matter what my father believed.