When Fig started walking again, Milton went along with her. She glanced quickly at him, then sped up, but Milton sped up too. Together, they speed-walked out of the cover of the trees and toward the beach, at the far north end of the bay. The rocks were bigger here, towering above their heads, and there was a carpet of beach sunflowers beneath their feet.
Milton was breathless almost immediately from trying to keep up with Fig’s long strides, but he managed to pant out, “So, Fig, how long have you lived here?”
“Almost two years,” she replied, not one bit breathless. “My mother’s in charge of the Truth-Will-Out Vine study.”
“So she works with my uncle!” Milton cried. “I bet they’re friends.”
Fig shot him a tiny smile and slowed down a tad. “They actually are,” she said.
Milton grinned. “I knew it,” he said. “And you—” He paused to choose his words carefully. “You like the Lone Island?”
“I don’t always love living on an island in the middle of nowhere,” Fig told him. “But I do love this island. It’s—I think it’s a special place. I wish I could have met Dr. Paradis though. She traveled everywhere on her sailboat, exploring and researching. But once she found the Lone Island, she stayed put.” She shrugged. “I guess she thought it was a special place too, even if it is covered in vines. Anyway, she’s one of my mother’s heroes. That’s why she took this spot when Dr. Greene offered it to her. Well … that’s one of the reasons.”
Fig fell silent as they reached the sand, and Milton paused to yank off his hiking boots (nothing worse than sand-filled footwear). Up beyond the dunes were the cottages, and Milton could see Uncle Evan, who was carrying an enormous cardboard box, and two other scientists coming from the direction of the docks.
“Those are Rafi and Gabe’s parents, Dr. Alvarez and Dr. Alvarez,” Fig said, pointing to the couple who was approaching the cottage covered in the heart-firefly-fairy mural. Dr. Alvarez had curly dark hair like his sons, while Dr. Alvarez had a long braid and wore a flowing, flowery skirt. Both of them were smiling ear to ear as they talked animatedly to each other.
“That is … not what I expected Rafi’s house to look like,” Milton said. “Or his parents.”
Fig laughed. “They’re into connecting with the earth and that kind of thing. They’re sort of like hippies. Hippies who are crazy about bugs.”
“I don’t think they passed their earth-loving ways to their son,” Milton said. “Or their cheerful dispositions.”
Fig laughed again, and Milton patted himself on his back. Things may have started off a bit shaky, but Fig’s mother was friends with his uncle, and Fig loved the island, and after two laughs in a row, he figured it was the perfect time to share the details of his new, sure-to-amaze identity.
“You may be interested to know,” he said, “that I too am in the natural sciences. I’m conducting a nature survey for the Flora & Fauna Federation this summer.” He pointed to the badge on his vest with three green Fs arranged in a pyramid (which he had custom-ordered online for one low payment of $25.99 plus shipping). “We call it the Triple F.”
“The Triple F, huh?” Fig said. “They employ nine-year-olds?”
“Nine-year-olds!” Milton was aghast. “I’m not nine. I’ll be thirteen in eight months!”
“Oh, sorry,” Fig said. “You’re just…” She paused, then shrugged. “Anyway, twelve is still a little young to be employed, don’t you think?”
“Oh, it is,” Milton agreed. “I’m probably the youngest naturalist in the world.” He pulled out his field journal, flipping it open to the Nature Sightings Checklist in the back, right to the page with the (extremely impressive) Komodo dragon check mark. “See? I already got started on the survey.”
Fig barely glanced at the journal. “Sure, Sea Hawk,” she said. “Listen, this is my house, so I’m going to head in, and you should too. The mosquitoes will be coming out soon and believe me, you don’t want to be out here when they do.”
Milton pulled his waterproof watch from his utility belt. “Would you look at that!” he cried. “It’s almost six o’clock. Can you believe I’ve been on the trail for hours?”
Fig didn’t answer. She was already halfway up the dune, heading toward the cottage with the yellow door that Milton had chickened out of scouring for electrical outlets that morning.
Electrical outlets. The HandHeld! That was what he’d set out to do—find an outlet—and he’d never even brought it up.
“Fig! Wait!” Milton shouted after her. “Does your home happen to have electricity?”
“No,” Fig called back without even turning around. “There isn’t any over here.”
It was somewhat expected but still devastating news. There wasn’t time to dwell on that right now though. Fig was getting away. “How about we meet up tomorrow?” he cried. “You can go exploring with me.”
“No, thanks. I’ve lived here for two years, remember? I don’t need a tour guide.”
“Oh, I know that! What I meant was that you can show me around. I’ll even let you name one of the new species we find.”
Milton heard Fig make a noise halfway between a sigh and a laugh, but she still didn’t turn around.
He couldn’t let his Restart end this quickly. He racked his explorer hat–covered brain for something that would convince her to hang out with him again. “I’ll give you partial credit when I submit my nature survey to the Triple F. And—and it’ll be an adventure!”
Fig paused.
Then her sunshine door opened, and a tall woman with a headwrap that made her even taller appeared. “Hey, Figgy,” Milton heard her say. “Did you spend any time with your feet on the ground today?” Then she noticed Milton. “Well, who’s this?”
“That’s Sea Hawk,” Fig told her mother.
“Hello, ma’am,” Milton said from the bottom of the dunes. “I was just trying to persuade your daughter to accompany me on a scientific expedition tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that nice,” Fig’s mother replied, beaming down at him.
Then Fig’s mother looked at Fig, her eyebrow arched. Fig looked back at her mother, her eyebrow arched. They seemed to be passing some sort of secret eyebrow-code message. Milton held his breath and waited.
Until finally, Fig’s mother nodded, and Fig sighed and called back, “Fine, Sea Hawk. Meet me at the docks at seven a.m.”
Milton pumped his fist in the air as Dr. Morris waved goodbye and Fig shut the door behind them.
This Sea Hawk thing was actually working!