“Of course you wouldn’t care—”
“Octopus!” Cam screams. “Octopus octopus octopus!”
Nearly the entire faction of people around us twist over their shoulders to give Cam worried stares.
“Shut up!” I hiss as I step around the column next to him. “You sound like a little kid at an aquarium touch pool.”
Cam blinks at me. “They don’t let people touch the octopi.”
He steps to one side and motions with his entire body, arms fully out, toward our second fountain of the day. A bear head juts from the smooth stone face, water trickling from its open mouth. A snake entwines over the top of the bear’s head like a victory crown. Just below the basin of the fountain, an octopus made of copper curls into a tangled little ball where the column meets the sidewalk.
“Well?” Cam asks.
“Well, I’d say the bear and the snake absolutely kicked the octopus’s ass in that wrestling match.”
Cam huffs. It’s surprisingly delightful to see him so flustered. He turns again to the fountain, studying the little mangled octopus on the ground. Then he looks left, the way we came.
“Where’s Golden Gate Bridge?”
I do a slow spin. “That way,” I say, pointing over my shoulder.
Cam follows my finger. He frowns.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters. He holds up his palm. “Can I see the scroll again?”
I sit on one of the plaza benches and take the box out from my bag, then pass the scroll over. He unrolls it carefully, then shifts it back and forth, like he’s turning a steering wheel.
“Shoot,” Cam says after a while. “I guess it’s not a map, after all.”
I lean into him. “What do you mean?”
“Look where the bridge is. And then here’s the mosaic fountain near Coit Tower. If I shift the drawing to make them line up…”
“It’s impossible,” I say, finishing the thought. I point to the bear, snake, and octopus on the page. “That would be sitting out in the middle of the water.” I look up at Cam. “Hey! You think there might be another column or fountain like this out on Treasure Island?”
Cam shakes his head. “No chance.” He sighs and taps the woman in the long dress again, the one wearing the necklace with the key. “We have to find her,” he says.
I nod. “Yeah, we do.”
We catch the Judah train on Market Street and begin to head home. But right before we reach Sunset Tunnel, Cam tugs the stop line and stands up.
“Let’s hang out at Duboce Park,” he says. “For old times’ sake.”
My stomach wrings itself like a washrag. “I’m not sure.”
“Please?” Cam presses his palms flat together, then extends one arm out toward me. “What if there’s a hidden statue of a lady we don’t know about?”
“In a dog park?”
“Yeah! The patron saint of dogs or something.”
The closing-doors bell rings out. Before I can overthink it, I’ve left my seat alongside Cam and leapt off the train. I watch it drift away into Sunset Tunnel.
Cam lets go of my hand. Our knuckles sweep across each other. The lightness of the touch nearly makes me jump. I take a deep breath and look over at the park. Dogs are running, free and happy, all over the place while their owners stand in clusters, chatting and holding dangling leashes in their arms.
“I don’t see a statue,” I say.
Cam shrugs and offers a meek smile. “Let’s look around anyway.”
