The Fog Diver Read Online Free Page B

because they were my family. The only family I had left.So I brushed my hair away and scanned the sky again for the buoy.
    â€œNo luck,” I called. “I don’t see it anywhere.”
    Hazel swung down from the crow’s nest. “It’s gone.”
    I stared at her in disbelief. Buoys didn’t just disappear. “What do you mean, it’s gone?”
    â€œIt should be right there,” she said, pointing to an empty stretch of Fog. “But it’s not. Full stop, Swedish.”
    Swedish clattered on the organ keyboard, and the raft jerked to a standstill.
    I shaded my eyes. “How can it be gone?”
    â€œOnly two ways,” Swedish muttered.
    Either the buoy malfunctioned or someone messed with it. And if someone messed with it, they might start messing with us . A worried silence fell . . . then a hatch slammed open and Bea popped through, her leather cap askew.
    â€œLook at that!” she cried happily. “She still stops on a thumbnail! This raft is purple as a real airship.” For some reason, Bea considered “purple” the highest praise.
    Hazel quirked a grin. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Bea.”
    â€œWe’d sink,” Swedish muttered. “We probably still will.”
    â€œShe likes stopping,” Bea said, her soot-smudged face flushing as she looked past us. “Um, guys, where’s the buoy?”
    â€œGone,” Swedish told her.
    â€œOh.” Bea fiddled with her tool belt. “Where’d he go?”
    â€œNow that,” Hazel told her, “is a good question.”
    â€œI’ve got a feeling about this,” Swedish declared.
    â€œYeah?” I said. “What kind of feeling? Surely not a paranoid, doomed sort of feeling?”
    â€œNo,” he said. “A realistic one. Someone stole our buoy.”
    â€œWho’d steal a buoy?”
    â€œWho knows?” Swedish said as he nervously squeezed the bootball he kept beside the wheel. “We’re too far from home this time. Probably in mutineer airspace.”
    My stomach clenched. Everyone knew that the mutineers sometimes shot trespassers on sight. “Don’t even say that!”
    Hazel tucked a braid behind her ear. “We’re not in mutineer territory. We’re in no-man’s-land.”
    â€œOh, that’s much better,” Swedish muttered.
    â€œMaybe the buoy just deflated?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s possible,” Hazel said. “Bea, check it out.”
    â€œSure thing, Cap’n!” Bea knelt at the bin where we kept the buoys. “Remember that buoy who went out yesterday?” she asked the spare buoys. She “listened” for a moment, then nodded. “That’s right, Bumbleboy.”
    Hazel and I exchanged a glance. Now Bea was naming them?
    â€œHow was he feeling? Hmm? Purple as the day he wasstitched.” Bea frowned, then raised her head to Hazel. “The buoy’s fine. I don’t know where he is now, but he definitely didn’t deflate.”
    â€œSo somebody took it,” Swedish said. “We’re not alone out here.”

6
    T HE DAY SUDDENLY FELT cooler. The raft swayed in the breeze, the rigging creaked under the balloons, and foggium whooshed through the copper pipes.
    â€œYou mean mutineers?” Bea finally asked.
    â€œThey’re not so bad,” Hazel said.
    Swedish snorted. “Yeah, they just shoot down any airship that gets too close to Port Oro.”
    â€œThey’re defending themselves,” Hazel said. “You know why they’re called ‘mutineers’?”
    â€œBecause they rose up against the Rooftop?” Bea asked. “A long time ago?”
    Hazel nodded. “They were ordinary people, like us. Not nobles or merchants. They got fed up with paying the Five Families for the chance to breathe clean air. Theygathered on Port Oro, fought off the Rooftop, and started ruling