I make a face. “We’re looking for one of the most popular fiction novels in existence. We already know it was written by Robert Louis Stevenson. I think we’ll be good on our own.”
Gabriel raises his hand. “I’m with Sunny. What if there’s another clue we’re missing?”
Julia stands between us, notebook held out in front of her. She chews her lip.
“Go with them,” I say, waving her off. “I’ll grab the book and find you guys after.”
I turn and snake my way through the fiction shelves, heading over to the section marked R–T.
Stevenson. Stevenson. S…St…
I become vaguely aware that someone’s shadowing me down the aisle. Except they’re not behind me. They’re in the next aisle over, the top of their head peeking above the book spines. I stop walking suddenly. The figure also stops, then leans over to peer through the shelves.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, glaring.
Cam’s eyebrows go up. “Oh, whoops. Is this another place where überdudes aren’t allowed?”
I march around the endcap and into his aisle. Cam steps back, surprised.
“Are you following me?”
“Actually”—Cam folds his arms over his chest—“I watched you and your group come in here. Which means, technically,youwould be the ones followingme.”
I grit my teeth and look at the book spines behind Cam. To my horror, I realize the exact book I want,Treasure Island, is tucked on the shelf just beyond his left elbow.
“How’s the hunt going?” I ask.
“Fine.” His eyes slip for a second as he glances to the left.Oh God, does he know about theTreasure Islandclue?“How’s it going for you?”
“Also fine,” I say. “Very fine. Probably even more than fine.” And then, just for good measure, I look directly atTreasure Islandand back at him.
I’m trying to put on a convincing bravado that says,Okay,so maybe we both know about the book. But I am still doing so well that I am entirely unbothered by this possibility. I’m going to find the treasure first anyway and make you regret the day you decided to walk off that damn field two years ago.
But that is a lot to communicate with a single smolder, which, admittedly, is probably less of a smolder and more of a stink eye. I have been informed by my mother that most of my pointed looks come across as a stink eye.
Julia bounds down the aisle. “Ivy! Ivy! We found—” She stops short as she sees Cam standing next to me.
“Mm?” Cam asks. He perks up.
I turn to Julia, suddenly remembering the note I left in Cam’s locker.
“Watergate?” I murmur.
Julia looks at me, bewildered.
Remember? The fake clue?I’m trying to say telepathically. Although, again, this is probably all coming across as a stink eye.
“Watergate?” Cam asks.
“We have to go. Bye!” I press Julia out of the aisle, resisting the urge to look over my shoulder and take in Cam’s full reaction.
“That was great!” I say once we’re safely a few rows away. “He totally bought the Watergate thing. Now we’ll just wait until he leaves, and I’ll go back and grab the copy ofTreasure Island.”
“Unnecessary!” Sunny calls from the next row over.
Julia and I look up as Sunny and Gabriel march over to us. I notice that Gabriel is holding a different book at his side.
“Did you find another edition?” I ask.
