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“Amazing,” said Mr. Adler, chewing. “We need to hit White Rock Pizza more often. What do you think, kids? Hope you didn’t drink too much hot chocolate.”
“We didn’t,” said Coco, swallowing before she answered. Coco was very polite. “The pizza is yummy.” She was still frowning, her eyes downcast. Probably thinking of the smiling man. Or that black circle.
Black circle . . . Why did that ring a bell? Black circle, black spot . . . which had something to do with . . . bells?
No, gone again.
Brian, eating and thinking, felt his mom’s gaze, like an itch on his forehead. He wondered what she was worried about. It couldn’t be about him, could it? He’d tried so hard not to worry his parents.
But what if they’d noticed something anyway?
Or had they seen something? Driving up? A cold clutch of fear hit his stomach. What if they’d seen whatever was outside? What if it came back that night and scratched on their window?
“Okay,” said Ollie’s dad. “New joke: what did the fisherman say to the magician?”
Mr. Adler loved awful jokes. Brian’s dad frowned with concentration. Everyone else at the table groaned. The dads had a shared interest in bad jokes. They were a terrible influence on each other.
“Don’t know,” said Brian’s dad. “What?”
“Pick a cod, any cod,” said Mr. Adler happily. They both laughed.
Brian’s mom sighed.
“All right,” said Brian’s dad. “I’ve got one. What did one ocean say to the other?”
“Ooh,” said Ollie’s dad. “Lemme think . . .”
Brian sighed. “They just waved,” he said.
“Oh, of course they did!” said Ollie’s dad, with delight.
“So,” said Brian’s mom, breaking in. “Ollie, I hear you are a great softball player.”
Ollie swallowed her bite. “I was,” she said. “Or, am, I guess? I didn’t join the team this spring.”
Ollie had thought about joining, Brian knew. She’d quit softball after her mom died but had been slowly getting back into her old hobbies. She and Coco played chess sometimes after school. But sports had seemed a little silly when they were desperately researching how to save themselves from a monster. Brian had just finished the worst hockey season of his life. It was hard to play hockey when you were scared all the time. And now they had this black circle with the riddle on one side. A warning, if S was to be believed.
What do we do?
A knock boomed against the front door. All three kids jumped. Brian saw his mother’s eyes narrow. He tried not to look nervous. “Hello?” called a voice from the entryway. There was a thump of someone pulling off boots, and then Coco’s mom came in, fair hair sticking to her face with the wet outside. “Wild night, huh? Hi, sweetie,” to Coco. “Hey, everyone.” She kissed the top of Coco’s head and took a seat to a chorus of hellos. Since Ollie, Brian, and Coco had become friends, their parents had too.
“Have some pie, Zel,” said Mr. Adler. Coco’s mom passed a plate.
“Hi, Mom,” said Coco, swallowing.
Coco’s mom started on her pizza. She was a reporter for the Evansburg Independent. Her hair, neatly braided, was blonder than Coco’s, and she wore a woolly sweater instead of a flannel shirt. Her nose was freckled, her expression serious. “This is fantastic. Now, I need an honest opinion here. What do you all think about boats?”
“Huh?” they all said.
“I like boats,” said Brian, after a pause, relieved to talk about something not related to himself and the girls. Maybe it would stop his mom from looking worried. “I’ve been in canoes a lot, and I sailed last time we went to see my cousins in Kingston.” Brian had been born in Jamaica; his family moved to East Evansburg when he was a toddler.
“I’ve canoed a lot too,” chimed in Ollie. “No sailing, though.”
“Why do you ask?” asked Brian’s dad. “I used to sail all the time as a boy.” His expression went far away for a second, and Brian figured he knew what his dad was remembering: all those trips to Kingston, when Vermont was dark and icy cold. He wished he was there now, but they’d already gone for a week in February. Somehow, terrible mysteries didn’t seem like they could get ahold of you under the warm sun, in the middle of sun-bright water.
“Oh, that must have been lovely,” said Coco’s mom to Brian’s dad. “I’m not thinking of anything that remarkable, though—take a look at this.”
She pulled a brochure from her bag and handed it around.
