Four high school friends, who hadn’t seen each other since graduation, meet up at their 30th high-school class reunion. It felt like old times, except now they were a little older with families of their own. During the reunions weekend, they begin planning a two-week vacation to Europe to celebrate their 50th birthday.

On their first night in Rome, Italy Cindy convinces her friends, as part of her birthday gift, she wanted them to play their childhood game of pretending to be other people. All during the trip, they were not to use their real names. Mary, a writer, who was writing a book about their trip thought it would be fun and told them about the romance/mystery book she was writing. Telling her friends, the fictional characters in her book, aka them, were going on this cruise because they were the Bacholette Sleuths who were after an international jewelry thief operation.

Little did they know, when boarding the ship, their childhood game is what will save their lives when they accidentally do get involved with an international jewel thief, who targets the ladies to smuggle the jewel because he knows Interpol is after him.

Compared to my friends, I felt average. I am five foot, six inches with brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and green eyes. I was the athletic one in the group. No matter what season it was, I was playing sports; volleyball in the fall, basketball in the winter, and track in the spring. Besides my three best friends, my world in high school revolved around sports. It was one of the reasons why I did not have many dates in high school. I was too competitive. I think it was an ego thing for boys to ask me out on a date and want to do a sporting event, such as play racquetball. Knowing how athletic I was, it was a challenge for them to want to beat me. Rarely did they win and consequently there was not a second date. My Dad used to beg me to allow the boys to win, but I just couldn’t do it. To me, it showed a weakness if I played the damsel in distress. The boys had to like me for who I was, not the person they wanted me to be.

The reunion is going to last all weekend. Friday night is the casual night at McCoy’s bar in Enon, Ohio, Saturday is the big dance at the local VFW, in Enon and Sunday is the cookout at Young’s Jersey Dairy in Yellow Springs, Ohio. I step out of my air-conditioned car and already start to perspire. It is the middle of June, and the temperature is in the high eighties. I am glad I wore a sleeveless shirt, shorts, and sandals.

I walk into the bar, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I see a couple of my classmates at a table, and I wave to them. I am sure they wanted to get out of the heat, and that is why they are inside, instead of on the outdoor patio where the party is. I walk through the door to the outside area and look around. My heart bursts with joy when I see Cindy, Gloria, and Ariel standing by three men on the other side of the patio. They see me, and we run to each other, hugging and kissing and screaming; jumping up and down, so happy to see one another.

“Oh my God, Oh my God,” Cindy says, “We are finally all together again.”
I step back, holding her hands, admiring her. “You are still the beautiful prom queen.” She is wearing the same hairstyle she had in high school. It flows past her shoulders and teased high on top of her head. Her makeup is flawless. She is wearing a bright yellow sundress, with sandals. Other than gaining a few pounds since high school, she had not changed. You could take of picture of her today and put it against her graduation picture, there would be very little difference.

She flips her hair, “Thanks to Miss Clairol, it covers up the gray.”

I look at Ariel. She is still tall and willowy, wearing a short-sleeved shirt, with a long, flowing skirt, and sandals. Besides the highlights she puts in her hair, it is the only vanity thing she does, because she does not wear any make-up. She doesn’t need to; her face is flawless without it. I know from her Facebook page, she is still very religious. “Ariel, you are still the beautiful angel.”

“I am not sure about an angel, but I try to be good.”