If I had the money, I think I'd rebuild the Titanic in our backyard. Or maybe in the big park down on Mason Street, on account of how we live in this apartment and there's already that old green pool down there.

The Titanic is way too big to fit into that pool. We already checked.

I don't know how all that government stuff works, but I guess I'd have to fill out some paperwork like we do for the insurance companies all the time. Mr Barris is great at filling out paperwork. I think he actually enjoys it. He keeps all the proper cards and numbers and things in our wallet, all in order so he always knows where to find them. He can fill out those forms in minutes; the last time I tried to do it, we were almost late for our appointment.

And if the government won't let us have it, I could use our money to hire divers to sneak the pieces out. For enough money, most people will do anything. I'd have to pay them extra, I guess, so that they wouldn't tell anybody. But they could go down there at night, one at a time, and bring back the pieces. And then we could rebuild it here, in the backyard.

Or the park. We've talked about it, but we haven't decided.

It's falling apart, you know. The Titanic. Amanda read a story the other day about it, on some online news site. She's always on the internet, talking to her friends and poking around and whatever. The worst is when I'm on the computer, trying to do homework, and she comes along and kicks me off. Amanda never cares when you tell her that you have something important to do. She never cares that it's something that has to be done before Wyland's show comes on at 9, even though she knows he'll spend the rest of the night crying if he misses it. It's like she thinks she's the only one who owns the computer or something. Like she thinks she's more important than the rest of us.

But Amanda read this story, about how the currents of the ocean are making the Titanic fall apart under water. The currents and all the scientists and people who are always going down there to look at it. And the rusticles. Rusticles are tiny pieces of rust shaped like icicles, Amanda says. Jimmy and Joey heard the word, and I swear they thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard. They've been saying it to each other for weeks.

Rusticles. I guess it does sound pretty funny.

I think that's really sad, the idea that this neat historical ship is going to turn to ocean dust. I think somebody should try to save it. If I had the money, that's what I'd do.

Learn more about this author, Nicole Clevenger.
Click here to send author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Novel excerpts: Growing up?
We want to hear your view. Write now!