Finn's Ship--a skateboarder cruises: Finn's Fast Books, #1

By Serena Schreiber

Finn's treasure has a poisonous past.

Finn has never been on a cruise ship before, much less stowed away on one. 
He's never impersonated a fairy tale character, sought lost treasure or gotten to know his real dad. Annual visits to family in Germany are normally highlighted by skateboarding, playing soccer with cousins, and getting spoiled by his grandparents.
But all that is about to change when a mysterious foreigner hands Finn his father's diary. He and best friend Burrito embark on the pursuit of his previously unknown inheritance -- a fortune in Nazi Gold.
Don't miss the action of Finn's Fast Books #1, the first international, high-velocity Finn adventure! ​Read Finn's Ship today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Serena Schreiber
• Release date: Dec 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781607468707

Book preview

1

Auf Wiedersehen

The skateboard was a low-flying fighter jet heading out of school. Finn piloted through the crowd, focused on his mission—apprehending the perpetrator of a bold grab-and-dash. One foot on the board, Finn pushed off the pavement with the other foot to gain speed. No way was that joker getting away.

Finn ollied down a set of three stairs after his cell-phone-stealing friend Burrito, who raced away laughing. The final bell of eighth grade meant the end of middle school. Finally! Finn chased his best friend into the ten-week blue sky of summer vacation.

So intent was he on catching Burrito, he did not notice the gangly stranger until he flew full speed into the man, knocking him flat on the pavement and crash landing on top of him.

An inch from his face, the man hissed a familiar German swear word. "Scheiße."

Ugh, dog breath. Finn tried not to inhale as he scrambled to his feet. I’m really sorry, mister. You came out of nowhere and, well, I’m sorry.

Never mind, the stranger snapped. His long fingers picked up the package he had dropped. Pale blue eyes flickered rage at Finn, but after a moment, the anger was gone. He drew a deep breath and said, Never mind, it vas my fault. Darting nervous glances to all sides, he stood, freakishly tall with thin gray hair stuck to a shiny scalp.

No surprise the man was sweating, it was easily ninety degrees in the shade and oppressively humid. Yet he wore a heavy wool, navy peacoat fastened by a double row of buttons embossed with anchors like a sailor might wear.

Welcome to Florida, weirdo.

Schmidt is my name. His words were clipped. Finn’s band teacher would have said staccato. I brought you somesing zat belonged to your fahta. Trouble with the sound th and an accent like Uncle Otto. Definitely German.

Schmidt mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "It was from ze time on board ze cruise ship Auf Wiedersehen. Take it. You travel to Churmeny soon, no?" He pushed into Finn’s hands a large manila envelope tied in string.

Confused, Finn took the package and stared at it. His dad worked at an automotive school. Then he realized Mr. Schmidt didn’t mean his stepdad, but his real father, who had died when Finn was a baby. But how did Schmidt know his travel plans to Germany?

By this time, school was nearly empty. Finn heard Burrito’s ear-piercing whistle from the corner where he waited.

Jerking a thumb toward the sound, Finn said, I gotta go.

I vould be happy to take you, so vee can talk about zis. He spoke faster now and the accent intensified. You must have many kvestions.

In this country it was not okay for a stranger to offer a ride to a kid. No, thanks. More than a little creeped out, Finn jumped on his skateboard and took off after Burrito.

Behind him, the man called out in German, "Auf Wiedersehen!" which Finn knew meant not only goodbye, but ‘Until we meet again.’

Finn caught up to Burrito at the corner, landed and said, My cell phone. Give.

Clumsy much? asked his friend, handing it over. Who’s the freak show you plowed into?

I dunno, said Finn, texting. He knows who I am. He offered me a ride. Sketchy.

What’d he say?

Finn shrugged. His phone chirped, indicating a message had been received. My mom will be home in a few minutes. Let’s go. He pushed off on his skateboard, Burrito zipped past him, and the chase was on again.

As they’d done a million times since preschool, the boys raced to Finn’s house. They were planning the coolest summer vacation ever—a week in Germany before Burrito met up with his folks in Spain. It would be Burrito’s first visit to Europe, unlike Finn, who was born there and visited family nearly every summer.

Burrito was faster to the house and jumped off his board. He picked up the basketball lying in Finn’s driveway and took a shot at the hoop. So, tell me about these cousins we’ll be staying with. As the shot dropped, he pumped his fist. Yes.

Oh, Bruno’s pretty cool. He likes to skate, so bring your board. Finn caught Burrito’s rebound and dribbled the ball.

Does he play lacrosse? Burrito had been playing since fourth grade.

Finn watched a car cruise past his house. Nah, Germans play soccer. Oh yeah, bring a jacket. Sometimes it’s cold. He shot and missed.

Burrito ran for the ball. You said he has a sister, right?

Finn nodded. Red’s a year older. We’ll barely see her. She practically lives at the ballet studio.

I’ve seen a picture on your fridge. The tiny redhead. Burrito took a shot at the basket and watched it sink. He nodded and grinned, exposing his retainer. She’s hot.

Finn retrieved the ball. Don’t. Even. Think about it. He ran a layup shot, which rolled the rim and fell in. She’s super smart. She wouldn’t be interested in you.

She could teach me German. He started laughing as only Burrito could, way up in his nose while nodding emphatically. Heh, heh, heh, snort, heh heh heh. Finn had dubbed Burrito’s signature move ‘The Donkey Laugh.’

The boys moved aside for an old Honda pulling into the driveway. Finn’s mother, wearing her worried-mom look, climbed out of the car. Hello, Brian, she said to Burrito before giving Finn half-a-hug with her free arm. Hi, Sweetheart.

The boys retrieved their backpacks and followed her inside the house. She poured lemonade and asked, So what’s going on?

Pulling the manila envelope out of his backpack, Finn told her about the creepy guy named Schmidt showing up outside school.

Good, you didn’t open it, Mom said. Who knows what’s inside? Should probably take this straight to the police! Cautiously, she ripped it open and pulled out a leather bound book bearing a gilded anchor on the front.

Cool, said Burrito. A diary.

Mom opened its cover, worn smooth as if handled many times. She read aloud the name inside. Gunther Ehrlich. Your dad’s travel journal. Do you want to read it?

As she handed Finn the book, his first impulse was no. Mom had shared her memories so many times, her first wedding album and photos from his dad working on the ship which sailed around the world. Finn had little patience with her old stories.

But he opened the book and saw that it was written in tiny, scrawling German. Well, of course, it was his father’s native language. On page one, he deciphered the words meaning ‘first day’ and ‘ship.’ Flipping further, he found a postcard from Cape Town in South Africa, some foreign coins, and a photo of his father and an older woman wearing dive gear.

Looking over his shoulder, Burrito asked, Is that your dad?

Looks just like him, doesn’t he? said Mom.

Who’s the old lady? asked Finn.

No idea. You sure do have your father's smile.

Finn shut the book firmly and took the manila envelope from his mother. I can’t read German. He shoved the book back into it. Even if I can speak it.

What a great opportunity to practice! said his mother.

Finn rolled his eyes. She could be such a mom sometimes.

Smiling, Burrito said, Yeah, Finn, you can brush up on your mad German skills before the trip.

Finn glared while his mother looked triumphant. He did not want to study German, and he really did not want to read the diary. His father was gone and nothing would change that. Spending time thinking about him only made him feel bad. He just wanted a summer vacation. Burrito, standing behind her, was enjoying a silent rendition of ‘The Donkey Laugh.’ Finn narrowed his eyes at him. Cool! And you’ll help me study, won’t you, Brian?

Burrito stopped laughing.

2

The Diary

One rainy afternoon a week later, Mom came into Finn’s room. It smells bad in here. Like pizza and feet.

Finn concentrated on his video game. Thanks, Mom.

How’s the diary coming along? Need any help?

Finn had taken it out and flipped through it, but the words made no sense. Summer was no time for difficult reading. Plus, in the photos of his dad, he recognized a slightly older version of himself. But dead. He’d quickly tossed the book aside and actually wasn’t quite sure where it had landed. I haven’t gotten very far.

You might enjoy it, Finn. Mom picked