“But he snuck into city hall to do it,” I say. “He knew he couldn’t get past security. That’s all premeditated.”
Mr.Wong raises his palms. “That verdict wasn’t decided because of the facts,” he says. “It came on the shoulders of bias and homophobia. Which we all well knew. So that night, we didn’t hang streamers or set up games or prepare food for the potluck. That night we marched to city hall and battered it like it was a ship in a storm and we were the ocean. We crashed into storefronts and parks. We wrote on buildings. We shattered glass. We needed every scream to come with a mark so that the next morning, San Francisco would see the pain we all felt.”
He sits at a bench and stares at one of the hanging rainbow flags.
“That’s why I said to check your picture,” Mr.Wong says quietly. “And you’ll know whether it was taken before or after the White Night riots.”
I look at the others. Suddenly, the treasure hunt seems so shallow within the wider context of Mr.Wong’s story. People fought and bled on these streets. And here we are, looking for a silly treasure like little kids.
But then I think back to that summer with Cam. I remember the feeling we got as we read throughGay Treasures. Gilbert Baker made this book because he wanted people to remember gay history. He buried treasures and made a hunt based on real people because he wanted to make sure the truth itself wouldn’t get buried. Maybe unearthing the treasure would mean unearthing all the stories like this behind it. We can make people pay attention to the past if we can show them how truly valuable it is.
“That’s it,” I whisper.
Julia looks at me. “What’s it?”
“Our yearbook’s mission statement,” I say. I turn to the group. “The clues are based on important parts of gay history that have been largely forgotten—like Harvey’s birthday party. We have to find this thing. We can’t stop looking in a parking lot.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” Gabriel asks. “There’s not a logical next step.”
“No, there’s not,” I say. I pause a moment, thinking about all the number grids Cam and I found in the chapter, all thepuzzles we never got around to solving. Suddenly the answer bursts into my head. It’s akey! The flyer must be a cipher key for another puzzle in the book. I snap my fingers and turn to Mr.Wong. “We need to find the full version of the flyer. Would the GLBT Historical Society Archives have it?”
Mr.Wong winces. “Hmm. Not likely.” He rubs his chin. “But there’s a used bookstore not too far from here—Bolerium Books. They carry a lot of vintage political memorabilia. I’ve seen some of Harvey’s old campaign signs there.”
“Bolerium Books…” Gabriel types the words into his phone. He looks up. “It’s eight blocks east. And there’s a bus line on Eighteenth.”
“Well? Let’s go!” Sunny barks.
I look over at the bench. “Let’s walk Mr.Wong back to his car first.”
Mr.Wong shakes his head. “You go ahead,” he says, waving us on. “I’d like to sit with my memories a while longer.”
We each thank Mr.Wong. I glance back at him as we rush away toward the next bus stop. He’s already staring off into nothing, clearly in some other place and time. His mouth twists into a strange shape that somehow looks both wistful and devastated. I know that combination of feelings all too well.
Chapter Seven
Cam’s jolt of popularity at the start of junior year used to be a total mystery to me.
How could someone be a total loner for so long, I wondered, and then suddenly get star treatment? But the more time went on, the more I realized what other people saw in him.
Cam is the type of person who reminds you of a hero. Not a beefy superman hero. But like a Frodo Baggins–type hero. The underdog with the golden heart, who fights for things because he’s determined and passionate. Who doesn’t want to root for a person like that? Who doesn’t hope he gets every last thing he’s after?
But here’s the thing about passion: Passion only makes sense when you actually understand what it is you’re fighting for. That’s why I put onNational Treasureat the start of our treasure hunt. In the movie, Benjamin Franklin Gates is passionate about the hidden American treasure because hebasically has a PhD in American history. Gates’s passion rests on a foundation of knowledge.Knowledgeis the real key.
I had to show Cam the movie first thing, before we took even one step forward as actual treasure hunters. Because it’s important to see what a good treasure hunter looks like. Especially when Ben is compared to the movie’s antagonist—Ian—who’s essentially a British dumbbell only in the hunt for the money.
Of course, Cam didn’t get the contrast at all.
“What a messed-up ending,” he said as the fancy script end credits rolled.
I turned to him, shocked. “You think Ben and Riley should have taken a bigger cut of the treasure?”
“The other guy shouldn’t have gone to jail!” Cam splayed his hands open. “The dude with the accent—”
“Ian,” I supplied.
“Ian, whatever, he was the one who helped the main guy—”
“Ben.”
