The Island of Dragons (Rockpools Book 4) by Gregg Dunnett (best books for 7th graders .txt) 📕

me by mistake, as in, she meant to send it to someone else. But then she sends another one:

Sorry Billy, was a bit rushed just then, meant to ask if you’re any good at sailing? Might need to borrow you if so…

I’m still not sure what to say, but this time I do text back.

I guess I’m OK

And then she doesn’t reply but phones, which is awkward, because – like I just said – I’m in the library, but I don’t want to put her off, so I quickly gather up my books and hurry outside, where I can talk more easily.

“Are you still there?” Lily asks, when I get outside and can talk properly.

“Yeah.”

“It sounds like an earthquake.”

“Sorry, I was just… No there isn’t.”

“Good. It’s… The reason I’m calling. It’s just because you were so good at surfing that time, and I figured you might be able to sail as well… And well. We’re a little bit desperate, is all.”

There’s a noise in the background, I can’t hear what.

“I’ve done a bit,” I reply, a bit lost. And really what I want to say is how it’s so nice to hear her voice, and how good she sounds – bright, and fresh, and happy. “Erm, my dad taught me a few years back. We found this boat abandoned, so we rebuilt it, and sailed it around Lornea Island.”

“You’re kidding?” She laughs. “My God, I knew it. That’s absolutely perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” I ask, but she’s gone. In the background I hear her voice though.

“Dad, he’s an expert.”

“Are you busy Saturday?” She’s back talking to me.

“No.” I hesitate. I’m definitely not an expert.

There’s more voices in the background. It sounds like someone’s replying to her.

“Sorry, I’m at home. That’s my dad. He’s got himself into a stupid argument with my uncle at the yacht club. It’s the final day of the season this Saturday, and…” She breaks off, and I hear her speak in the background again – “it is stupid, Dad.” Then she comes back to me.

“They’re both ridiculously competitive, so Dad challenged him to a bet. Whoever finishes in front at the weekend wins, loser has to buy the winner – and crew – dinner.” She laughs again, but I just wait.

“So… We need crew at short notice. Ideally someone who can sail well. So I thought of you.” There’s a funny change in her voice when she says the word ‘you’. Or maybe I think there is. Then I think about the little boat Dad and me fixed up and sailed around Lornea, and wonder what sort of boat Lily’s billionaire dad might have.

“Um, you want me to come?” Is the only thing I can think to actually say.

“Yes!” Again her voice sounds bright, and fresh, and filled with joy.

“OK.”

So then I’m committed to another social occasion when I’m going to be way out of my depth.

That night I have a dream that Lily’s dad’s boat is one of those enormous, ridiculous gigantic superyachts, a hundred foot long, with a dozen crew members and a helicopter on the back, and for some reason I’m told I have to sail it, only it doesn’t even have sails, but it moves somehow anyway, because it’s a dream, and I end up steering it onto the rocks, and then I wake up with Lily’s dad – who looks like a pirate, only a pirate wearing one of Lily’s white wool sweaters, and for some reason with a monocle – shouting and swearing at me, and holding a huge hose out of which dangerous chemicals are flowing all over me and all into the ocean. And I see Lily gasping in horror, at what I’ve done not at what he’s doing.

And when I wake up I know it’s just a stupid dream, yet I still can’t shake the thought that this is going to be a disaster. But on Saturday morning, early, because that’s when I’m told to get down there, I go to the marina where the boat is kept, and find a safe place to lock up my bike. I scan the basin of yachts, like a forest of masts, to see if there’s any billionaire superyachts. There aren’t, but there are still some enormous sailing yachts, and I wonder if Lily’s dad’s is one of these. So then I call Lily, like she told me, because there’s a locked gate to get down to where the boats are moored. She comes walking up the pontoon towards me, waving, and looking happy. She’s wearing a yachting jacket today, white and blue, with a fluorescent yellow hood. But I don’t see which boat she came from.

“Hey Billy, beautiful weather. Perfect breeze!” She punches in a code and the gate swings open. I wonder if she’s going to kiss me, or if I should kiss her, but in the end we both hesitate, and don’t do anything.

“Come on then. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” She turns and leads me back down the pontoon.

“So which one’s your Dad’s boat?” I ask, as we walk out. The way marinas work, the smaller boats are always moored closer in, where there’s less water and less space. So the further we go, the bigger her dad’s boat is. She turns to look at me.

“Just out here.” She points casually, but it’s towards the one with the very tallest mast, an absolute monster of a yacht. It must be a hundred foot long, painted dark blue and towering over everything else.

“That one?” I stop. It’s like my nightmare is coming true already.

Lily turns to look at me, a curious expression on her face.

“Are you OK?” She follows my gaze, and laughs. “No, not that one Billy. Who do you think we are? Internet billionaires? It’s there.”

She points instead to a much more modest yacht, the sort you might find in the harbor in Holport on Lornea Island, and at once I feel some sense of relief.

But as we get closer I see it is