The only thing that keeps me from going off the deep end is the knowledge that my fake clue absolutely worked, and Cam is safely a few steps behind us at least. On Wednesday, I see him quickly stash a copy ofThe Watergate Girlinto his locker. On Thursday, I see him holding another book on Watergate before he spots me coming and jumps behind a large tree. On Friday, there’s a third book hidden behind his math textbook in class. Waiting for fame and glory is agony, but it’s a bit less agony when your closest competition is unknowingly heading in the wrong direction.
Finally it’s Saturday, and I’m waiting bright and early outside of San Francisco’s main public library. The wind absolutely wrecks my hair as I pace back and forth outside the three sets of front doors. Whenever I get tired of pacing, I stop and re-count the flags whipping in the wind across the street at the Civic Center Plaza.
“Are you crazy?” Gabriel asks as he and Julia walk over from Grove Street.
Gabriel has one of our nice yearbook cameras around his neck. Julia’s carrying a tray of to-go coffee cups all bearing the logoUN Café. I grab the cup marked “IV” and gratefully take a sip.
“Thank you,” I say to Julia. “You’re seriously a lifesaver.”
She nods and gives me that same guarded smile from Monday. I make a mental note to pull her aside later today so we can finish our conversation from the science lab. But it will have to wait until after the history center appointment.Maybe we’ll even already have the treasure in hand, and she can explain why she joined the hunt to the reporter interviewing all of us.
Gabriel gives me a once-over. “You’ve been here for hours, haven’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, for one, your hair looks like you’ve been electrocuted.”
My free hand immediately clamps down on my head. “Excuse you. Maybe I did it this way on purpose.”
Sunny jogs up to us and grabs the last coffee from the tray. “So sorry I’m late,” she says, breathing heavily.
I cock my head at her, surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the words “so sorry” come out of Sunny’s mouth. Ever.
“Actually”—Gabriel checks his phone and looks pointedly at me—“we’re all early.”
“By two minutes,” I snap. I chug the rest of my coffee and push it into a nearby trash can, then take the empty tray from Julia. “We need a plan for the second they unlock those doors. Julia, do you mind taking notes?”
“Oh! Of course!” Julia pulls out her notebook, flustered as she turns to a new page. “I didn’t think anyone actually cared about my notes,” she murmurs as she clicks open her pen.
“Are you kidding?” I say. “If we find this thing—whenwe find this thing—your notes are going to be famous documents! You’re taking down history right now.”
Julia’s cheeks turn pink as she writes the date and location at the top of the page.
“Well, I already asked the center to pull their records onTreasure Island,” Gabriel says. “They said it would be a couple boxes’ worth of stuff.”
“Great,” I say. “We need to pay special attention to anything we find about the buildings. And especially keep a lookout for any mention of Harvey. Or the number combination seven two three.”
“We got it,” Sunny says. Again, her sincerity is throwing me. Maybe she’s like a reverse coffee person, and coffee only restores her to her usual grumpy self.
A lock clicks behind us. One of the librarians pops a door open by a few inches, clearly testing it to make sure it’s unlocked. She jumps a little when she sees us standing outside. I’m guessing the library doesn’t normally have teenagers lined up and waiting like die-hard groupies.
Gabriel starts to head through the door.
“Wait,” I say.
He gives me a look. “Now who’s wasting time?”
“It’s just…” Mom’s words from Monday come back to me. What if I am being too practical right now? What if Baker meant for the treasure to be found by someone more like Cam, someone who thrives on ideas over details? What if we end up overlooking the answer entirely because I don’t know how to see the bigger picture?
“Let’s not only pay attention to the clues we know,” I say, “but try to listen to our feelings too.”
“Our…feelings?” Julia asks, looking up from her notebook.
“Well, our gut instincts. Like if we have afeelingthatsomething’s important. Or if we sense a story,” I add. “If Treasure Island is telling us a story, we should be listening to it.”
Sunny blinks. “No offense, Ivy, but you sound completely unhinged right now.”
“Yeah, I know.” I shrug and wave them inside. “Forget it. Let’s just go.”
