Excerpt from WILLIWAW WINDS by Sally Bair
"Hey, Horn! Get up here on deck pronto."
I throw my journal in my duffel bag, hoist myself out of my bunk, and wobble out to the deck where the cold, bright sunlight of late October meets my eyes. My muscles itch to kick Freddy in the shins for interrupting my writing--and calling me Horn again. I hate that name. But there's little energy or strength left in me after lying on my smelly bunk puking my guts out from seasickness. I'm only now beginning to feel halfway alive again.
"The skipper says to hurry, Horn. We're almost to the fishin' grounds," Freddy tells me and then laughs. "Should see yerself stumblin' out of the bunkroom. Shoulda got some good shots with that fancy camera ya brought along." He grins crookedly, wickedly. "Ya really are a greenhorn. Green around the gills, that is."
Greenhorn or not, I hate the name. Why did I get stuck with a crew mate like him?
Please let me know what you think of this beginning. I need your comments!)