out in the blue {clover/charlie} blitz

Charlie Finch wasn't in a helping out mood. To be fair, the girl wasn't often in a helping out mood. Instead, her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and her boots were stomping too heavily on the decks. Jasper had told her off earlier that morning for clambering around too loudly while everybody was asleep, and Edwin had provided no comfort when she'd gone to him. The others were no use to her, so she'd gone down below the decks to sulk. In her mind, the withdrawal was a brilliant punishment for the brothers who had so blatantly wronged her - they would surely miss both her help and her affections. In truth, they were probably glad to see the back of her.

At least the knots they tied remained tied when she was below the deck.

Charlie had been hiding for a grand total of eight minutes - which seemed like hours in her flighty mind - when she finally emerged, her bottom lip stuck out defiantly incase anybody mistook her for being over the incident. She stood up, stretching her legs and eyeing up the largest stack of crates for climbing, when she spotted the girl. Anybody on a boat with a pirate hat in their hand and a mane of red tangles had to be a Sparrow. Charlie knew their kind.

"Thieves and beggars, the lot of them," someone would shout as they sat around their dinners in the darkness one night. "They just don't know when to stop, no sense of right or wrong or anything of the sort." Charlie didn't think that sounded particularly bad - she herself could rarely see the boundaries between what was acceptable and what wasn't. Either way, the burning sense of loyalty she felt for her brothers reared up inside her chest.

"You're on my ship," she said bluntly, standing between the girl and the steps so as to block her path free. Not that she'd live very long if she did get up on the decks.

It was only now, standing up close to the girl in the dim lighting, that Charlie realised they were about the same height. Same tangled hair, same ever-present defiant expression and fierce eyes. She grinned suddenly and bounced backwards. "Are you running away?"

There was nothing Charlie Finch liked more than an adventure. Her adventures usually ended with trouble, or began with it. Today, trouble itself stood before her in the form of a sparkle-eyed Sparrow girl. On her boat. All ideas of family rivalries disappeared as the girl's heart leaped. She'd been bored, after all. There never was quite as many ways to cause mischief at sea, and the perfect opportunity had just arisen from the deep. Kind of.

Running away was something Charlie had done twice before on notable occasions. The first time, she had left the parents who had bought her from her own in a flurry of rage. She'd slept in a graveyard that night, freezing cold and shivering until the morning sun light the world. When the Peacekeepers had come for her, she had ended up in the orphanage. The second time, she had followed Jasper's lead as he had taken them out to sea to fend for themselves and fight against the evil of the Sparrow sisters. Neither time she had returned, and this concerned her. As long as running away was reversible, she was fine with the redhead's presence.

"Something like that," she replied in response to her question. "I'm Grace - you've got a nice ship here, pleasure to be aboard. And it's more of an adventure than running away."

This pleased Charlie. Usually running away wasn't quite as much fun as it sounded, but adventures rarely failed to disappoint. She thought back to the last girl her own age she had spoken to, Nessie Libertine, in the Pawn Shop. They'd swapped wares and smiled, but unlike Grace she didn't have the kind of face that suggested swinging from the mast and endowing the rest of the world with their presence.

"Want to come?"

Charlie didn't hesitate. She clapped her hands gleefully, glanced behind her to check none of her brothers was watching, and held out her hand. "I'm Charlie. I like the ship - we stole it - but yours is better. Adventures are my very most favourite thing." She paused for breath, held out her hand to shake Grace's, and posed another question. "What do you want to do?"

I've only been with my family for a few years - the boys came together in the community home, sweeping me up in their fun and games. That's what I thought this was, at first. An adventure, the kind that would be wrapped up and finished by bedtime, and then followed by a vivid dream as I slumbered beneath the streets. Little did I know that the night we ran away was fraught with real life dangers. Perhaps, if I'd been aware, I would have enjoyed the ordeal even more.

When I was a small child the liars who claimed to be my parents used to scold me again and again for ignoring their instructions. They were wrong (as they were in many things) because I gladly listened to each word that fell from their deceitful tongues and promptly did the opposite. In school, back when I attended a couple of times each week, the time out chair became my own. When the strange, forbidden girl before me looks at me with twinkling eyes and demands I go against everything I've been told since we first set sail, I jump eagerly at the chance.

"Let's sail away! That way!" she suggests, grabbing my hand and pointing to a stretch of land that seems quite near, although I know enough about the sea to be sure that it is further away than we imagine. My heart skips a beat, bounding ahead of my mind in excitement. "I assume you know how to steer?" The girl isn't looking at me as pulls at my arm and leads me toward the stern. I swallow, my grin fading for a moment.

"Of course," I lie, feeling the weight of the entire ship in my hands. I don't, because that never was my job, and they'd never trust me with such things. I'm the lookout - the thief, able to climb around and tie knots and yield a sword without hesitation. But manoeuvring the ship is surely within my capabilities. (I've seen it done countless times.) I grin wickedly, haul the helm around sharply and feel all the power in the world rush beneath my fingertips.

"If we took the lifeboat, they'd never even notice it was gone," I suggest, eager to be free of any responsibility for my home. I shoot Grace my most devilish grin, and set determined eyes on the island we're headed for. It occurs to me that I'm a runaway, running away from the band of runaways she found after she left the only safe home she ever new. I laugh, because danger burns in my blood.

A smile can say many things. It can say 'Jasper, you've slept it again and nobody's cleaned up,' or 'I do love you, you know.' A smile can be cruel; a taunt, a broken promise, a mocking grin. (The shout of 'I'm never coming back, not ever' followed by a flash of teeth and wild eyes.) It can hope or daring or glee - like the hidden ones Edwin and I share when a storm begins to brew or it is once again time to go out and do what we do best. Endless possibilities bloom from a simple parting of lips, the raising of eyebrows and glimmer of something that lurks in eyes like a secret code.

When Grace Sparrow tells me that I'm her new favourite person, unties the lifeboat and tosses a ladder down to meet it, I smile. When she reaches out her hand and says, "You first, Miss Finch?" I positively beam. (I'm rather sick of boys, with adventures consisting completely of maps and swords and kicking at each other. It's much more fun to sail free with the wind in my hair and no numbers and figures to guide me. All I need is the salt in the air and the daring in my heart.) I nod to my brand new friend - perhaps she's almost as reckless as I - and ignore her hand. Instead, I leap off the edge of the boat, skipping the ladder completely and landing in the violently rocking lifeboat below.

I'd like to have tumbled in, a perfect arc or a graceful summersault, but I might fall on my head. (Usually, I wouldn't mind, but today I have someone to impress.) I blink up, the sunlight very nearly blinding. "Well, come on then, Grace," I say with a laugh and a devilish smirk, "what are you waiting for?" Without waiting for her to make her way down beside me, I pull the string to start the engine and feel my heartbeat quicken as it purrs, glad to be alive again.

I'm not particularly accustomed to having friends, but I think I like it quite a lot. (It's nice to have somebody knew to smile at who doesn't instantly dive for cover or begin an endless quest to stop whatever trouble I am about to cause.)