Take It Off by J. Minter Page B

morning’s announcements, she told everyone to go back to their rooms and get ready for a free day in Palma de Mallorca.
    â€œJust don’t forget your passports,” she said. “And remember to be back on the boat by seven thirty. We set sail for Barker Island at eight o’clock.”

Maybe Arno isn’t on top …
    Arno went to Jonathan’s cabin and let himself in.
    â€œ
Dude
, what are you doing?” Arno leaned against the door and crossed his left ankle over his right jauntily. He was pretty sure he’d won Suki the night before—so sure, in fact, that he was feeling a little sorry for Mickey—and he was eager to get her off the boat and have her to himself for a while. “It’s our last free day before survival hell, and we’re going to miss it because you’re doing your hair.”
    â€œI was just hoping the tech people would give me a call and let me know that the Internet is up and running before we went ashore,” Jonathan said weakly, meeting Arno’s eyes in the mirror.
    â€œJ, don’t be a douche. There’re Internet cafés on shore. You can wait a few hours. And besides, remember the New Year’s Eve we spent on Ibiza, what was it, three years ago? You loved it. So let’s mother-fucking-go.”
    Jonathan sighed and grabbed his Jack Spade suedetool bag. “What are
you
bringing?” he asked.
    â€œUm, wallet, passport, sunglasses? I mean, you don’t need an
overnight
bag here, J. Oh, and Stephanie left us a memo this morning reminding us to take out whatever plane tickets, travelers checks, etcetera, we might have in our wallets, ’cuz if we lose that stuff, we’re fucked.”
    â€œRight,” Jonathan said as he removed a hefty manila envelope from his bag and set it on the bed. He was wearing a white V-neck, Helmut Lang white cords, and his Gucci loafers; he wasn’t exactly going to look like your average American backpacker. He threw his argyle sweater in the bag for good measure.
    â€œCan we go now?” Arno prodded.
    They walked up to the deck. Most of the students were already on shore, although there were still a few, dressed for a day of beach and sun, debarking with them. Arno and Jonathan met Mickey and Patch on the dock. Greta and Suki stood with them, wearing big sunglasses and American Apparel cotton short shorts, red for Suki and blue for Greta. Suki’s long dark hair hung over her shoulders in two braids.
    â€œSo what’s the plan?” Jonathan asked glumly.
    â€œStephanie was saying that the old town is really cool, with castles and cathedrals and things,” Patch offered. Pretty much everyone groaned.
    Mickey flipped a tropical-design beach towel over his head. “I am all about the beach.”
    Arno tried to think quickly. If he could come up with another activity that left Mickey at the beach by himself, or better yet, with Greta, then Arno could have Suki all to himself. What came out of his mouth sounded pompous even to him. “That’s so
frivolous
,” he said. “We should really go into town and try and get some gifts and things. You know, for our moms.”
    â€œFor your mom?” Suki giggled and winked. “Arno, you’re too much.”
    â€œCome with me.”
    Suki bit her lip. “I’d love to, but Greta and I are actually going to the beach,” she said, gesturing at their beach bags.
    Mickey did a little jig. “You could come with us, I guess, but that would probably feel a little, um, I dunno, frivolous.”
    â€œFine, whatever,” Jonathan said. “I’ll go with you, Arno. I didn’t bring a bathing suit anyway. And we can buy stuff and check our e-mail at the same time.”
    â€œGuys, I think I’d rather, um, explore the town,” Patch said. “Let’s all do our own thing and whatever and then tonight we can meet up for dinner. Cool?”
    â€œOh,” Greta