Theo aimed his camera at me again. “One of many. Scientists and researchers may not take Atlantis seriously, but they love to name their spaceships and boats after it.”
I scowled into the camera, and Theo gave me a thumbs-up.
“She’s a lot sturdier than she looks. Also fast,” my dad said, looking at the boat fondly.
I very much doubted that last part. But when he held out his hand, I stepped on shakily, the boat unsteady under my feet. Theo loaded in behind us, and the fact that it managed to hold all three of us felt like a tiny miracle. Once I wasn’t too freaked out to walk, I made my way to the back and crash-landed on the crackly leather seat, the broken edges digging into the backs of my legs. Theo slid in next to me. His eyes, normally deep brown, looked caramel colored in the bright sunlight. I couldn’t tell who looked more excited: Theo or my dad.
“How Nico Varanakis is this boat?” Theo said, waggling his eyebrows at me. Apparently the two of us had a catchphrase. Great.
“It kind of reminds me of my car,” I admitted. “No one will drive in it with me because the back windows don’t roll down and it smells like Parmesan cheese.”
“I love Parmesan cheese,” Theo said, widening his eyes.
“Michalis!” my dad yelled, waving to a man on the dock. In return, the man held up a very pink, very fresh-looking octopus, and my stomach heaved, more from the rocking boat than the octopus. It had probably been passed through my DNA, but I had a serious appetite for seafood. James always joked that there was nothing the sea could cook up that I wouldn’t at least try. He was right. My dad and I had eaten fish every chance we got.
Also, did my dad know everyone on this island?
“Ready?” Dad called from the steering wheel, but he didn’t wait for an answer. The motor started with a horrible coughing noise, and I gripped the edge of my seat as we slowly backed out of the marina.
“Please don’t kill us,” I mumbled below the drone of the engine.
“Huh?” Theo said, cupping his ear.
I shook my head, still gripping the seat like my life depended on it. This was life with my dad. One minute, you were having coffee. The next, you were out on an expedition. Off into the wild blue yonder and all that.
Breathe.
What was there to worry about? It’s not like I was an active aquaphobic carrying nine years of emotional baggage onto a boat held together by duct tape.
Oh, wait.
You’ve got this, Olive.
LIV! I meant Liv.
This place was already getting to me.
Chapter Eleven
#11. SILVER PUTTY KNIFE
I don’t remember if this was the apartment in Albany Park or Edgewater Glen, but I do remember the wallpaper—yellow and white with big red cabbage roses that had faded to a dingy pink. One night, my dad decided we couldn’t live with that wallpaper anymore, so he stayed up all night stripping it with a bucket of wallpaper remover and his putty knife. He said that as soon as we were done, we’d paint a huge mural of anything we wanted—rainbows, mermaids, dragons, anything. I spent all evening drawing my ideas in my sketch pad.
But that night when my mom got home from her shift at a hotel, I could hear them arguing. She said he shouldn’t have done something like this without consulting the landlord. I couldn’t understand why my mom was upset—didn’t she see he was making our place better?
We didn’t stay long enough for him to finish the job.
MY DAD’S BOAT NOT ONLY looked a bit like his motorcycle’s long-lost cousin, but it moved like it too. Once we were out of the harbor, my dad ramped up the speed, and soon we were cutting through waves, bouncing up and down with Theo and me clinging to our seats as we raced toward the central island. Behind us, Oia spilled out over the sides of the red cliffs, looking more and more inconsequential the farther out we got.
“Are you nervous?” Theo asked, his voice close to my ear.
Was I that obvious? I discreetly dug my fingernails in a little tighter, anchoring myself. “No. Why?” I asked shortly.
He met my eyes, and the corner of his mouth went up. “Because you’re clawing my leg?”
“Oh—” I looked down and realized that instead of gripping the edge of the seat like I thought I was, I’d been accidentally clutching part of Theo’s pleasantly muscular thigh, which was all kinds of embarrassing.
I yanked my hand away. “Sorry. I guess maybe I am kind of nervous?” I glanced down at the water, and the way it whipped past us made me dizzy.
Theo’s forehead creased. “On this stalwart vessel? Kalamata, you have nothing to worry about.”
I grinned, because I couldn’t help it, and the tightness in my chest eased. “I haven’t spent a lot of time on boats.” Translation: no time. I could swim, but I preferred my water chlorinated and three to six feet deep, preferably while lounging on one of our many inflatable pool toys with a can of Diet Coke sweating on the ledge next to me.
“Also, the ocean and I don’t get along that well.” My hair was flying in the wind, and every time I spoke, half of it ended up inside my mouth. I wasn’t entirely sure why I was being so open about all this. Peer pressure?
“Really?” Theo said. I shrugged, and his face went from joking to serious.
“Look at him.” Theo gestured to my dad, whose back was to us. He’d kicked off his shoes and stood rocking back and forth slightly, swaying to the sound of the instrumental music blaring from the boat’s ancient-looking stereo. “Your dad could safely navigate anything. I think he’s part merman. You’re completely safe.”
“You’re right.” My dad did look completely at home. Seeing him in his natural environment felt confusing—regardless of me knowing this side of him, he’d obviously been this person all along. He’d built a bookstore and could drive boats; what else could he do that I didn’t know about?
Theo patted my arm encouragingly. “Let me know if you need to claw my leg again. I’m more than happy to help out.”
I slugged him, then looked out at the water to hide my smile. Theo was great at distracting me from my worries. It was like his superpower. I leaned back and did my best to relax. So long as I didn’t focus on the rippling depths below me, I was fine. Better than fine. It was a gorgeous day, the breeze making the scorching sun downright hospitable. I rolled up the sleeves of my T-shirt and turned my face up to the light. As soon as we docked, I’d abide by number seven of Mom’s rules, Wear sunscreen. But for now, I wanted to lie here like a raisin and soak up as much sun as possible.
After a while my dad slowed the boat, turning down the music so he could give me a quick geography lesson over the sound of the wake. He explained that Santorini is actually made up of five islands. There was the main island of Thira, which was the largest by far. Next was Therasia, which sat opposite of Santorini and was maybe an eighth the size of it. According to Theo, it housed an abandoned village, a colorful church, lots of smartly adorned donkeys, and a few hundred residents. My dad said the island was like a time machine; it had managed to lag behind the rest of the islands.
Next were the volcanic islands, Nea Kameni (our destination) and Palea Kameni, the small islands I could see bobbing in the middle of the caldera. And finally, there was Aspronisi, or the “white island,” a tiny splotch of land that didn’t always make it onto maps, and which Theo told me was constantly rumored to be for sale. Grouped together, the islands formed the circular shape that got Atlantis hunters so excited.