Antsy Floats Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’ve decided to spend as much money as I can before I die so that neither the government nor the various vultures with my last name will be able to pick over my rotting carcass.”
    And Howie says, “You won’t have that problem if you get cremated.”
    Crawley got this look on his face like he just swallowed bad sushi and turned to his granddaughter. “Why do I surround myself with imbeciles, Lexie?”
    â€œWell,” said Lexie, with an indignance that only she could deliver, “as one of ‘the vultures with your last name,’ I’m sure I don’t know. Now if you’ll excuse me, Moxie and I are going to explore. Perhaps we’ll visit the petting zoo.” Which made sense, considering she’s tactile and all. I offered to go with her, but she declined. “I’ll find my own way. Asking for directions is a good way to meet people.”
    I gotta admire Lexie. She’s got it nailed. I was sure by the end of the week, she’d know everyone on the ship. Crawley, on the other hand, had no such desire. He went to the huge two-story windows and closed the curtains.
    â€œIt’s too bright in here,” he said. Then he turned on the TV and swatted Howie and me away when we reached for the silver platter. “Go eat your own sushi. I ordered a bon voyage platter for your suite, too.”
    We went to our own suite to find the front door open. I figured it meant the rest of my family finally found their way here, but no such luck.
    While I scarfed down all the sushi without octopus, Howie flipped through a big book on the coffee table that told everything you ever wanted to know about “The Largest Floating Object Ever Conceived by the Mind of Man.”
    â€œHey, look here, Antsy,” said Howie. “It says ‘the Plethora of the Deep ’s twenty-one mineral-rich Jacuzzis are oxygen enhanced to provide a soothing massage with patented therapeutic bubbles.’”
    â€œYeah, I got your therapeutic bubbles right here.”
    With the sushi inhaled, I was now ready to explore. “So what do you want to check out first?” I asked him. “The roller coaster? The Cavalcade of Waterslides?”
    â€œNeither. I want to find the ghost.”
    I sighed. “Not that again!” Since the moment he found out he was going, Howie had been harping on this. According to Howie, this ship was the lifelong dream of Jorgen Ericsson, the founder of Caribbean Viking cruise lines, but he died before the Plethora was completed. There was a rumor circulating that his ghost haunted the ship.
    â€œWhat, do you think he’s gonna be posing for photo ops?”
    â€œPeople have taken pictures,” Howie said. “But he only shows up on iPhones.”
    â€œYeah, right,” I said. “I’m sure they’re as fake as your birth certificate—which I’ll regret I ever made for you if you spend the whole cruise ghost hunting.”
    He pulled out his iPhone. “Not the whole cruise . . . just a day or two.”
    I pushed him out of the room. “I am not wasting my time looking for Jorgen Ericsson’s ghost,” I told him. “But if I was, where do you think we might find it?”
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    I got a big mouth. I don’t deny that. Sometimes it’s a good thing, like the time I stopped some moron from falling into an open manhole by yelling “hey, moron, that’s an open manhole!” But other times, it sets me up for a world of trouble, like just before we left the suite, when I had announced to anyone who might be listening, that I made Howie a fake birth certificate.
    Okay, so as I was heading down the hall, I realized that I forgot my camera, so I went back to the suite. Keep in mind that I had just left it less than a minute ago. No time for anything to happen, right? I opened the door and standing there was a beautiful girl taking something out of a