Collision Course by Gordon Korman

think we’d let any stuffed-shirt English take one of our own?” she demanded. “Now I’ll have that dance.”
    Paddy gave in gracefully. His toes were beginning to tap, anyway.
    “We’re coming, Alfie!”
    Juliana struggled to keep pace with the young steward, who was towing both girls aft along the boat deck. “You don’t have to wrench our arms out of their sockets!”
    Alfie did not let go of their hands. “I don’t want you to miss this,” he exclaimed, urging them to greater speed.
    “Miss what?” Sophie puffed. “What’s so wonderful that we have to choke down our dessert and make an Olympic dash the length of the ship?”
    “Humor me,” Alfie pleaded. “After an entire day at the beck and call of a tyrant like Mr. Masterson, I need something to make me smile. And some friends to share it with.”
    “I would expect you to have a little more sympathy for a poor cripple,” Sophie told him disapprovingly.
    Alfie’s face darkened. “Save your sympathy for someone who deserves it.”
    They passed beneath the fourth funnel and descended the companion stairs to the second-class promenade.
    A small crowd had gathered at the rail, but Juliana could not make out what they were watching. Spirited music played below, and she could hear the hubbubof many excited voices as well as the rhythm of stomping feet.
    At last, Alfie wormed his way to the overlook, drawing the girls with him. Beneath them, the aft well deck teemed with humanity — hundreds of passengers dancing and singing and celebrating. The crowd was so dense that not an inch of planking was visible. It was a blizzard of color and motion, all set to a sprightly beat.
    To say it was lively was an understatement. It was life. And if the clothes were more drab and less elegant than the fine fabrics and glittering jewels found in first class, the revelers made up for it with energy and enthusiasm.
    “I’m jealous,” Sophie murmured in awe. “First class paid all the money, and steerage is having all the fun.”
    Alfie beamed. “I knew you’d want to see it.”
    Juliana was bewildered. She had only observed members of the lower classes performing a function — storekeeper, chambermaid, hackney driver. She had never considered that Mrs. Musgrave, their housekeeper, had a life of her own apart from her duties to the Glamm family. Yet here were people precisely like that — hundreds of them — not performing any function at all. They were just enjoying themselves.
    Her eyes found one particularly agile dancer. Even though he was clad in heavy, soot-stained coveralls, his arms and legs moved with athletic grace and something close to joy.
    The other dancers noticed him, too, and stopped to watch, forming an ever-widening circle around him. The extra space lent wings to his feet, and he whirled like a top to the fiddler’s tune. His features were just a blur until the spin slowed, and …
    Sophie leaned forward, frowning. “Wait. Isn’t that —?”
    “Paddy!” Alfie rasped, horrified.
    “Why is he in the middle of that party?” Juliana mused. “He doesn’t know those people.”
    “He’s a very talented dancer,” Sophie commented, impressed.
    “I don’t care if he’s the King of Siam!” Alfie exclaimed. “He’s supposed to be in hiding! Why is he waving himself in front of the entire ship? Has he gone daft?”
    “He was always daft,” Sophie pointed out. “This is just the latest part of it.”
    Juliana turned to the young steward. “You have to do something about this, Alfie! I didn’t risk my reputation lying to protect him just to watch him hand himself over to the officers!”
    By the end of her speech, she was talking to empty air. Alfie was already sprinting for the superstructure and the nearest staircase.
    “Bless my soul!” came an all-too-familiar voice behind them. Major Mountjoy’s stomach pushed its way to the rail. “I asked myself: Mountjoy, what is the big attraction on the second-class promenade? But now