"Journey To The Center Of The Earth," I read aloud. "Ding-Dong, you know that book is science fiction, don't you?"

"Well, sure," she replied. "But don't you know that science fiction becomes science fact?"

---

 

19. Bora Bora, Bora Bora
 

I didn't sleep at all on the second flight. We did take off while it was still dark, but technically it was already morning. They served us breakfast, and everybody else was awake, so how could I sleep? Instead, I had a good time, looking out the window (once the sun came up), searching for boats below, and chatting with Wiggy.

Plus, I was finally awake. No more fuzzy-headed confusion! And — after my long, death-like sleep — I felt pretty good.

The Amazons, on the other hand, were going stir-crazy. The fourteen-hour flight from Newark to Honolulu was long, but it was doable. On that flight, the girls who could sleep, slept. The others watched the movies, amused themselves, or *tried* to sleep.

Now, we had another flight to endure, from Honolulu to Papeete — five and a half hours. And after that, one last flight, from Papeete to Bora Bora — only about a half hour. Paradoxically, even though each flight was shorter than the one before, each flight was harder to take.

In the middle of the Honolulu-Papeete flight, Mirina organized an exercise and stretching session: she and Knickers cleared the floor in front of their seats, and Boogers and Donkey put their seat backs straight up so that there was space, and we each took turns doing the bicycle. You know, shoulders on the floor, legs in the air, pedalling air and all that. She also had us do in-seat stretches. As hokey as it sounds, I actually liked it, and it made me feel good.

Wiggy told me that on the earlier flight Mirina had the girls stretching and exercising every three hours, if they were awake. At odd intervals, she had Graffy and Grooty remind everyone to hydrate.

As much as I dislike bossy people, I appreciated what she did. It wasn't fun, and Mirina didn't insult our intelligence by trying to make it seem like fun. With her no-nonsense, businesslike manner, Mirina overcame my unwillingness, and afterward I was glad she did. What Wiggy had said of her was true: Mirina is a natural leader. It's easy for her to get people to do things.

And she herself did everything she asked the others to do. When Graffy or Grooty said to hydrate, she drank some water. When it was her turn to bicycle, she got down on the floor and bicycled.

I had a great time with Wiggy. She and I got along as if we were old friends, but even so, at one point we got so bored and talked out, that she pulled out my fairy-tale book and buried herself in the window seat to read it. Occasionally she'd laugh or chuckle, but I didn't bother to ask why. I didn't feel like talking about transgendered-ness. The Amazons were roving the aisles, and the chance of being overheard was very high.

Wiggy was very discrete. She had the seat reclined, and her knees up. The way she held the book in her lap, her legs and her blanket hid the cover entirely. And since we (once again) were sitting in the last row (of first class!), no one could look over her shoulder.

While Wiggy explored the world of fairy-tale transformations, I flipped through the pages of Cosmo, looking for fashion enlightenment.
 

Every so often Ding-Dong came dancing up the aisle with a fresh bit of misinformation, courtesy of Cakey.

"Hey, did you know that Bora Bora has a national anthem?" she asked me.

"No, I didn't."

"You've probably heard it — that's the funny thing!" And she began to softly sing,

Bora Bora, Bora Bora
It's an island in the ocean.
Independent, something-something
And they call it Bora Bora.

"You've heard it, right?" Ding-Dong asked, with a child-like smile.

I struggled not to laugh, but Wiggy said, without looking up, "Ding-Dong, that's the Yale fight song."

"Really?" she said, astonished. "Yale uses that song? I have to go tell Cakey!" and she was gone.

"Oh, my God!" Wiggy sighed. "I hope you realize: this is only the beginning."

"It's kind of cute," I said.

"Yeah," she said. "One time is cute. The second time you still smile... but you have to realize that Cakey is behind each one of these trips, and she'll keep sending Ding-Dong over, until she drives us out of our freakin' minds."

I laughed.

"At least she knows that Yale is a school, and not a lock company," Wiggy commented. "At least, I hope she knows."

The next time Ding-Dong came back she had a book in her hand, with her forefinger inserted as a bookmark.

"Hey, Wiggy," she said, "The center of the Earth: hot... or not?"

"Hot," Wiggy said. "Some scientists think it's hotter than the Sun."

Ding-Dong laughed. "That's ridiculous!" she said. "If the center of the Earth was hotter than the Sun, we wouldn't be able to live here! There wouldn't be any water! The whole planet would look like a burned-up tennis ball!"

Wiggy looked at Ding-Dong in silence for a moment, weighing her options. This time she said, "Okay, then, it's cold."

"Well," Ding-Dong replied, "It can't actually be cold, but it's not hot."

"How do you know this?" I asked her.

"I'm reading this book," she said, and showed me the spine.

"Journey To The Center Of The Earth?" I read aloud. "Jules Verne? Ding-Dong, you know that book is science fiction, don't you?"

"Well, sure," she replied. "But don't you know that science fiction becomes science fact?"

Wiggy opened and closed her mouth three times, but she didn't say anything.

I said, "Thank you for sharing that with us, Ding-Dong," and she skipped happily back to Cakey.

Every so often the girl would return to share some other amazing gem from her reading, or to ask for clarification of something she didn't understand.

"Did you know that underground, everything is lit by electricity?" she asked me.

"Well, sure, it would have to be," I joked. "Otherwise, it would be dark."

"So you think that it's real, then?" she asked.

"Well, sure," I said. "How could it be otherwise? If you didn't have electric light, you'd have to have candles or gas lamps..."

"Which could cause an explosion," she put in.

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied.

"Thanks!" she said, and ran off again.

"What was that about?" I asked Wiggy, who shrugged.
 

---

 

At long last, all three flights were over. By then, we ALL felt crappy, unglamorous, and achy, but all our discomforts were forgotten when we looked out the windows of the plane.

I expected Bora Bora Airport to be pretty much like any airport. Maybe a little smaller, but an airport nonetheless.

Instead, it was a tiny island. And it was HOT. As soon as they opened the door of the plane, the tropical air came rushing in. Once we got outside, though, the ocean breeze cooled us off quite nicely.

It was just after lunch, so the sun was high in the sky. Everything was bright; there were no shadows. There was literally not a single cloud in the blue, endless sky.

I have to admit that I haven't traveled much, but I figured airports would be pretty much the same everywhere: You know, the airplane rolls up to the gate, an accordian-like thing comes out, and you walk through it, directly into the air-conditioned building.

Well, in Bora Bora, it wasn't anything like that. When we landed, the stewardess just popped open the door and unfolded a set of stairs. When we exited the plane, we just walked down directly to the runway! We stood right on the ground, right next to the plane! And just a few steps away, some men were opening the belly of the plane and unloading the luggage, right before our eyes.

That was my first surprise. I never in my life expected to stand on an airport runway. People only do that in adventure films.

My second — much bigger surprise — was the airport itself. It was beautiful! Up till now, I thought that Sacramento Airport in California was the nicest, cleanest airport in the world. But Bora Bora had Sacramento beat to sticks.

Do you know why? It's because it's a tiny island! And not only that, it's a tiny island in the South Pacific! You can see the whole thing, almost without turning your head.

The runway was bordered with white sand, palm trees, and deep-green bushes with bright red flowers.

AND, instead of busses and taxis waiting to carry the passengers away, there was a boat! It was a kind of water taxi.

"Is that our boat?" Ding-Dong asked.

"No," Wiggy said, "Ours is the wooden one, behind it."

"Oh!" Ding-Dong cried, with obvious disappointment. "Is that the boat we're spending our vacation in?"

"No, Ding-Dong. Remember: you've seen pictures. Our boat is over 100 feet long. It's too big to tie up to this tiny, little dock. We have to take that boat, which is a longboat, out to our ship."

"You say it's a long boat," Ding-Dong countered, "but *I* don't think it's very long. There isn't enough room for all of us to sit — or even stand — and there's no room for our luggage. Unless that boat has, like, an underwater compartment."

Wiggy regarded Ding-Dong for a moment. "An underwater compartment? You mean like a luggage area underwater?"

"Yes."

"Well, it doesn't have one. All the boat is right there. It's what you see. There's no hidden underwater basement."

"Don't worry," Cakey told her. "Wiggy will work it out."

In fact, Wiggy, after looking over the situation, went over to the men unloading the plane and spoke to them briefly. Then she walked to the dock and waved to the sailor in the longboat, who waved back. At that point, the man in charge of the water taxi began to ask her questions while gesturing at the rest of us.

"I wonder what they're saying," I said, but I didn't really wonder. It was just something to say.

"If you were over there, you could hear them," Mirina pointed out. "Why don't you go keep Wiggy company? Give her your support."

"Uh, oh, yeah," I said stupidly, and went to join Wiggy on the dock.

She smiled and said, "Hi. I'm glad you came over. I was beginning to feel alone."

I gave her a grin of encouragement. Again Wiggy had that look: the look of a slightly overwhelmed little girl. It was amazing the way this group of people, including two adults, expected Wiggy to handle everything for them. They acted as though she was the only adult.

"We'll be off in a minute, miss!" the water-taxi man called.

"Thanks!" Wiggy called back. Then to me she said, "As soon as they go, our boat can pull up."

A light breeze kicked up, flowing gently over my hair and clothes and skin. I could feel the sun all over me, even through my clothes.

"Isn't it wonderful here?" Wiggy sighed. "This is the nicest place I've ever been, and we haven't even left the airport yet!"

I laughed, but my laugh was covered by the bark of the water-taxi's horn. It made me and Wiggy jump. The taxi's motor revved up, the ropes were cast off, and after some preliminary chugging, the taxi moved off with a rhythmic a-puttputtputt-putt a-puttputtputt-putt.

Behind us, the airport men rolled up a big cart. They blocked the wheels and began unloading our luggage onto the dock.

As they piled up the bags, the longboat glided in.

"Ahoy there," called one of the women from the boat.

"Ahoy yourself," Wiggy called back, smiling. "Are you from the Seward?"

"That we are," the redhead replied.

"They're both women," I whispered to Wiggy.

"I noticed," she whispered back.

The second woman, the one who hadn't spoken, had gathered some rope in her hands. Wiggy opened her hands, and the woman tossed it to her. Wiggy immediately and deftly wound the rope around some hooks, and pulled it fast.

"Well done!" the woman complimented. Wiggy smiled and moved to tie off the rope at the other end of the boat.

"Looks like we have a sailor in our midst," the redhead said, stepping from the boat. "My name's Flannery and that one's Riley. What's yours?"

"I'm Wiggy and this is Marcie," Wiggy replied, shaking hands.

"Wiggy?" Flannery repeated.

"It's short for Hedwig," she explained. "I'm Hedwig Wetherwax."

"Ah," Flannery observed. "That name sure is a mouthful. Wiggy it is, then!"

"I should tell you," Wiggy went on, "that all the girls — except Marcie here — have strange nicknames."

Flannery shrugged. Riley grinned and asked, "Do the teachers have nicknames, too?"

Wiggy gave a cute conspiratorial smile and said, "Of course! But they don't know. Ms. Popken is Poppy, and Ms. Takkebos is Bossy."

"Oh, dear," Flannery laughed. "Poppy and Bossy, are they? It's going to be hard to call 'em by their real names now."

"So how are we going to do this?" Wiggy asked. "Those are the passengers and these are the bags."

"That pack of blondes, eh?" Flannery asked. "And I suppose them two are the chaperones?" She indicated the two teachers, who stood a bit apart.

Wiggy nodded. "Do you think you can take all eight cheerleaders at once?"

"Oh, they're cheerleaders, are they?" Flannery laughed. "Well, lar-dee-dar!"

Riley chuckled.

"Don't underestimate them," Wiggy said in a quiet voice.

Flannery stopped laughing.

"Sorry," she said. "No offense meant." She considered a moment, looking at the girls, the luggage, the boat, and finally, at Riley.

"What we can do is this," she proposed. "I could take the eight of them, and one teacher. Riley can stay here with you two, the other teacher, and the luggage. Then, I'll come back for you two, the teacher, the luggage and Riley. How's that sound?"

Riley shrugged, and Wiggy agreed. She signalled the Amazons to come, and they trooped over to hear the plan.

"It's going to take two trips to get all of us and our luggage to the Seward," Wiggy explained. "Flannery's going to take the Amazons and one of the teachers first, then come for the rest of us and the luggage."

The girls and teachers all nodded.

"Amazons, are you?" Flannery asked, musing.

"Is that a problem?" Mirina asked.

"Oh, no! Heaven forbid!" Flannery replied. "It's just that our Captain fancies herself an Amazon. Does the name Blackett mean anything to yous?"

Everyone shook their heads in the negative, which Flannery found surprising, but she left the topic there.

"Any questions?" Wiggy asked.

Ding-Dong raised her hand. "Did you say she was taking us to the sewer?" she asked cautiously. "Because, if you did, I'm not sure that I want to go."

Wiggy's jaw worked for a moment, and Flannery fought down a laugh, but when Wiggy said, "Yes, Ding-Dong, I did say that. We're going to the sewer." Flannery succumbed to a coughing fit, and Ding-Dong's jaw fell open in horror.
 

---

 

Soon enough, the eight girls and one of the teachers were safely aboard. Cakey managed to convince Ding-Dong that she could at least come and see, before she made up her mind.

Wiggy and I cast off the ropes, and the longboat's motor carried it away.

"This is going to be one interesting trip," Riley commented, and Wiggy and I laughed in agreement.

"Oh!" Wiggy said. "I — uh, we — were wondering: are there any handsome sailors on board?"

"I was wondering that myself!" Ms. Popken, the teacher, agreed with a broad smile.

Riley grinned. "I think we're *all* handsome," she replied.

"You know what I mean," Wiggy countered. "I'm talking about the men! Or boys! Or anything in-between."

"Didn't you know?" Riley asked, with some surprise. "There are no men on board. The crew is all women, and so are you. There aren't going to be any men at all on this trip!"

"Are you kidding me?" Wiggy cried.

"No, I'm not kidding," the woman replied. "No men. Nary a one."

Ms. Popken swore heavily in her disappointment, which made Wiggy and me bust up in hysterics.

Poppy, mightily embarrassed, said nothing at first, but when we couldn't stop giggling, she said, "Come on now, girls, it wasn't *that* funny!"

"Yep," Riley said. "It's going to be an in-ter-est-ing trip!"

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way

[OTHER STORIES]