“Damn,” Hugo said.
She didn’t look at him, just kept talking. “Christopher stayed with me for a week until they found a foster home for him. I would have sold a kidney to keep him. But I can’t even afford to foster him, much less adopt him. I have three roommates and no car, credit-card debt, and a job that pays minimum wage. Oh, and I have a hole in my favorite shoes.”
She held out her foot to display a small hole where the canvas of her trainer had come away from the rubber sole.
“So maybe I will sell the book to the highest bidder.” Her tone was sharp as a knife. Every word cut him. “You live on a private island. Easy for you to say money doesn’t buy happiness when you have money. It would buy a lot of happiness for Christopher and me. And forget happiness.” She waved her hand as if she were erasing him and every stupid thing he’d just said. “For once in my life, I would love to spend fifteen dollars on a toy for Christopher without getting sick to my stomach. Sorry you disapprove of me daydreaming about the money a little bit, but that’s all Christopher and I have right now—wishes and dreams. But it’s better than having nothing.”
“Lucy, I’m—”
“You know what teachers call kids like you when we’re all gossiping in the teachers’ lounge?” She slapped her hand against his chest. “Spoiled brats.”
He looked at her, his jaw clenching. “Now that’s unfair.”
“Wake me up when the world is fair. Good night, Hugo. I can find my way back alone.”
She walked off. Hugo just stood there. What could he do but watch her go?
A flutter of white caught his eye. Paper. He picked it up off the ground. She hadn’t slapped his chest in anger. She’d given him Markham’s business card.
Chapter Seventeen
At nine the following day, Lucy dragged herself into the dining room and found the other players already there. They all looked up from their plates as she shuffled through the oak double doors.
“Sorry,” she said. “Jet lag.”
“Of course,” Andre said. “Help yourself to the spread.”
She got coffee with milk and filled her plate. There wasn’t much conversation. Everyone looked as exhausted as she felt. She’d had trouble getting back to sleep after her run-in with Markham and her fight with Hugo. Luckily the coffee had cooled just enough that she could gulp it down.
“That’s coffee, Lucy,” Dustin said. “Not beer. You’re not supposed to chug it.”
“Long night,” she said over the top of her mug.
“Was it?” Melanie asked. “You got out early. We were up past midnight.”
“Who came in second?” she asked.
An awkward silence followed. Andre cleared his throat. “We all gave up finally.”
“Oh,” Lucy said because she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make them want to throw butter knives at her.
Dustin got up to refill his coffee off the sideboard. “Anybody else see any strange characters on the island? Men in suits?”
“I may have,” Andre said. “You?”
Melanie moved a half-eaten sausage around her plate. “Maybe.”
“Markham,” Lucy said. “I met him too. He tried to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Same, same,” Andre said, nodding. “What did you do?”
“Refused him,” she said. “I mean, the book has to be published, right?”
“Definitely,” Melanie said. Andre agreed. Dustin just shrugged.
Suddenly the doors opened again, and Jack walked in wearing a wide smile. “Good morning, kids.”
They all greeted Jack with as much enthusiasm as they could muster, which wasn’t much.
“I know, I know. Harder nights for us all. Lucy, you’ll be pleased to know we’ve secured the docks. No more late-night shark attacks.”
“Shark attacks?” Melanie asked.
“The lawyer guy came to my room in the middle of the night,” Lucy explained. “Thanks, Jack.”
“My pleasure. The only sharks I like are the ones in the ocean. That is why I tend to throw my lawyers off the pier. Anyway, let’s talk about our next game.”
Everyone sat up a little straighter, eyes bright and ready.
“Look for the king of Clock Island. Under his crown, you will find the instructions for our next game.”
“Say that again, please?” Andre asked. He had out a notebook and pencil and wrote down every word Jack said.
Look for the king of Clock Island. Under his crown, you will find the instructions for our next game.
“There are no points,” Jack said, “so feel free to work together or separately. But until you find the instructions, the next game can’t begin. Good luck.”
Jack smiled benevolently at them all, then left the dining room.
Andre exhaled heavily. “Maybe my mom was right. Maybe running away to Clock Island was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
The four decided to work together since no points were at stake. They all left the house to explore the island, looking for this mysterious king.
They started at the Welcome ashore at four sign and worked counterclockwise past Puffin Rock at Three O’Clock, the One O’Clock Picnic Spot…
They tossed out idea after idea.
The king of Clock Island?
Was Jack the king of Clock Island? He didn’t wear a crown. What were they going to do? Cut the crown of his head off?
“I could do that,” Dustin said, grinning. “Done it before.”
“Let’s maybe not cut Jack’s head off quite yet,” Andre said. “Keep your eyes out for a statue or sculpture or something.”
Suddenly Melanie stopped in the center of the path and snapped her fingers. “The King of Clock Island? It’s one of the book titles.”
“No,” Lucy said. “The full title is The Lost King of Clock Island. But…”
She remembered reading that book to Christopher the last night he stayed with her. He’d picked it out because he liked the cover. A boy king rode a black horse through a cursed forest of evil grinning trees. He wore a golden crown on his head of black hair. Black hair just like his, which was probably why he’d chosen it.
“Hugo’s paintings are all over the house,” Lucy said. “Maybe one of the cover paintings? Does anybody remember seeing a painting of a boy on a horse riding in a forest?”
Andre snapped his fingers. “End of the hall by my room. Let’s go.”
They made their way back to the house, walking faster than when they’d left. The morning was warming. Lucy was grateful. She’d felt guilty after calling Hugo a “spoiled brat” last night, so guilty she couldn’t bring herself to put on the coat he’d lent her.
But it seemed she couldn’t escape him. They got back to the house and climbed the stairs. Down one hall, then up another short set of stairs. They reached the painting hanging over an antique butler table with an ancient black Royal typewriter atop it. A piece of paper was rolled into the typewriter. The words Found me! were typed at the top.
Melanie carefully unspooled the paper from the typewriter.
On the back, it said, The next game will begin at one at two.