Dear James,

So this is Sweden, huh?

It's not bad, I guess, but it's not as great as you made it out to be. Water? It's not sparkling. Sunset? It was average. Food? Well, the meatballs were pretty good.

Just kidding. We had rum for dinner.

We'll go down on land in the morning. We need to stock up and find a guy to repair the ship. We've still got some pretty funky hull damage going on. Bill says he repaired cars on the side back in Canada, but we're not going to trust him with the ship.

Oh, and Liv's awake! I'll admit, it's a relief. I've been down here in the infirmary since dinner. It's just Liv, Robin, and me. He's telling a story about when he was a boy and he found a dead cat outside his door. Then, apparently, he held an auction in his neighborhood and another boy bought it for seven pesos. I guess dead cats are a good luck charm where he comes from. I think it's kinda gross, but Olivia's laughing like a madwoman

She told me they "broke up". She either put quotes around it cause they were never really together in the first place, or because they only kind of broke up.

I hope they didn't break it off for good. They make each other happy, and when Liv's happy, everybody's happy.

Watching them makes me miss you a little. I mean, its not like I'm jealous but . . . I just miss having somebody to worry about me, you know? Or somebody who'll just talk and talk and talk not because they having anything to say, but because they know I hate silence.

You were like that. While I was pregnant with Jesse, you'd stay up with me when I couldn't sleep. Even better, you held back my hair while I puked in the mornings. Most romantic thing a man's ever done for me.

I still regret that I let us fall apart after she died. I don't know . . . I guess it was both our faults. You were just trying to make it work for Jesse, so when she was gone, there was no reason to stay together, right?

I remember it feeling like a gut wound, when you said what I just did. To me, "no reason" was every reason. I just couldn't accept the fact that you didn't love me. Never did.

All those nights when I fell asleep next to you, I realized later, never once did you say "I love you". I don't remember if I did. Probably, because I was ravenously in love with you even if you didn't feel the same.

Whatever. You're gone now and so's Jesse. It's just me, these days.

                 -Heather

XXX

Marco strode about the baile de máscaras, accepting well wishes and snatching sips of red wine where he could.

He'd seen better birthdays. He didn't really understand this one. Behind this sea of masks were faces of people older than he who could care less about him. Not a single person here could be obliged to sit down and talk to them -- they would find him childish and naive. He knew that.

Marco didn't think himself naive. Just a little idealistic. But what adult could understand that?

Turning fifteen, according to his father, meant accepting a great responsibility. It meant preparing to become a man. It meant choosing his path (which his father had already chosen for him) and learning his trade.

He knew he was to be a pirate, and if his suspicions were correct, today he would receive his own ship.

Eavesdropping on Mateo Araya had never been difficult. These past few weeks, Marco had been doing this often. In his spying sessions, he had heard much talk of his birthday and a vessel called The Fina, a ship his father did not have but was desperate to procure.

Marco could imagine himself captaining a ship, a glamorous bandit of the sea. His name would strike fear in the hearts of merchant ships, his flag making even the bravest warrior quake where he stood. What a fanciful image that was.

So he endured his party, powering himself on day dreams of freedom from this wretched ship. His crew, Marco decided, would wash themselves daily or face the consequences. They would be well dressed and well spoken, educated and brave. They would sober themselves in the day and celebrate in the night. People would not look at them and think, pigs. They would admire their form and elegance, wishing for a taste of their charm.

All his life, Marco's father had provided him with whatever he desired, aside from one thing: friends.

He imagined his crew as a great mass of boys his age, all smartly dressed and ready to be off. They would be happy and powerful together, none bearing the jealousy and loathing he saw so often in his father's crew.

A loud trumpet blast shook him out of his thoughts. More horns joined it, a brassy rendition of "Feliz Cumpleaños" beginning. The guests clapped and shot knowing glances his way. This must be the presentation of his gift. Marco exchanged grins with the guests, knowing none of them could understand how much this would change everything.

The fanfare continued, growing louder and louder. The door of the Dining Hall burst open with great drama.

Marco looked up. So did she.

Happy Birthday. His father had gotten him a girl.