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squeezed out a large dollop onto his palm, the stark smell of alcohol drifting toward Sarah. Then he held the bottle up and Marco held out his hand for some.
    Marco rubbed his hands together. “We’ve stayed in worse.”
    Sarah shook her head and went back inside the room. There was only the one bed, and it was a smallish queen size. Really? She had to actually sleep with her new stepmother?
    Things could not possibly get any worse.
    She dropped her suitcase and unzipped it to grab her bag of toiletries, and went into the dark bathroom.
    Sarah flipped the switch, flooding the windowless room with light.
    A cockroach the size of her thumb skittered across the floor.
    Her scream was a high-pitched sound that pierced the middle-of-the-night quiet and brought the other four running. Sarah pointed to the toilet. “A huge cockroach! He went behind there!”
    â€œProbably a palmetto bug,” said John. “He won’t bother you.”
    Marco said, “Unless they fly like they do in Texas.”
    Sarah glared at him.
    Yvonna held out a key. “Good night , Marco.”
    He took the key and hauled his suitcase to the door across the hall. He opened it and disappeared inside, Nacho right on his heels.
    John said, “Keep the light on in here and the bug won’t come back.”
    Sarah looked out into the room. If that was the case, those lights were not going off, ever. She did not want to wake up in the dark and find one of those—she shuddered— things crawling on her.
    â€œI want to go home!” She slammed the bathroom door and unzipped her bag. As she did her nightly ritual of flossing and brushing, she kept stealing glances at the toilet, waiting for that unspeakable nasty to make another unwanted appearance. When she finished in there, without seeing anything worse than the grungy tile floor, she went back out into the room.
    Her father had gone, and Yvonna sat on the edge of the bed. She yawned. Her eyes were a little bloodshot and she looked tired. “All done in there?”
    On the flight, Sarah had decided giving Yvonna the silent treatment might be one way to ruin the trip, but she couldn’t help responding. “It’s so disgusting.”
    Yvonna took a glance around. “I’m sure you’re used to staying in better hotels than this.” She handed a brochure to Sarah. “Your dad left this for you. Thought it might be reassuring for you to see what our sailing cruise will be like.”
    Sarah didn’t make any move to take it from her, so Yvonna set it on the bed, went into the bathroom, and closed the door.
    Sarah leapt at the bed and snatched up the brochure, which proclaimed:

    The photograph on the front was of a large, pristine wooden sailboat with crisp white sails, afloat a gorgeous crystal-blue sea. She opened the brochure and started reading:
    This sixty-foot vessel provides luxury charters, skippered by an internationally experienced captain with a wealth of local knowledge. In addition, private cruises include a fully qualified chef, whose culinary talents indulge guests with gourmet meals prepared fresh with local ingredients. Even the fussiest of taste buds will succumb to the delightful fare.
    Sounded good so far.
    Enjoy visiting unspoiled bays, picturesque harbors, and uninhabited atolls accessible only by boat. Ends of the Earth will get you to the ends of the earth … in one-of-a-kind, luxurious style.
    â€œNice.” Sarah grinned. “That’s way more of what I’m used to.”
    Then she got into bed, cringing at the sandpapery sheets. She lay on her side, hugging the edge, then stuck one of the two pillows from her side right behind her back. A wall between her and her new stepmother. Sarah closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, awash with relief that the sailboat would be a thousand times better than the hotel room.

 
    6
    The next morning they crowded into a taxi that took them to the harbor.