That night, Milton couldn’t sleep.
His insides were a mishmash, a smorgasbord of feelings, a hodgepodge of thoughts both rotten and spectacular—which made sense because it had been a mishmash-smorgasbord-hodgepodge kind of day.
On the one hand, he had run toward a cry for help with only the slightest bit of hesitation. On the other hand, Fig had basically said she didn’t want to be his friend anymore.
On the one hand, he had proved himself Sea Hawkian, rescuing a small child in peril and insisting upon correct (fake) name usage. On the other hand, Rafi had stolen the field guide.
On the one hand, he’d spotted a never-before-seen creature. On the other hand, the creature had vanished just like the Sweet Pickle Tree, so what did it even matter?
Also, there were basically monsters living under the ground. Maybe under this very cottage.
He was half-awake, contemplating the spectaculous on one hand and the rotten on the other, when a noise startled him into full awakeness. He sat up on the pull-out couch-bed, shoved his glasses on, and glanced around the room. There was nothing there.
Then he heard something tapping on the front door. Something, perhaps, like an enormous, slimy trunk.
“The EarthWorm Pachyderm has come for me,” Milton whispered into the darkness.
“It’s Fig!” came a voice through the crack in the door.
Milton let out a sigh of relief (it had been a tense seven seconds) and went to open the door.
Outside, the air was gusty and sprinkled with random Incredible Symphonic Cicada notes. The full moon lit up a path through the ocean and right to Fig, who was grinning and clutching her notebook.
“What are you doing here?” Milton asked, stepping onto the porch. And then, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I should have helped with the misspelled words!”
Fig shook her head. “You shouldn’t have,” she said. “That was the point. I needed some time alone. It really is okay for us to do things apart.”
“When you say that,” Milton said, “do you secretly mean you never want to do anything with me ever again?”
“Seriously, Sea Hawk? I’m here at your front door,” Fig replied, “seeing you right this second. I’m here in the middle of the night because I couldn’t wait until morning to talk to you. What do you think?”
Milton only had time to consider these (very illuminative) facts for a few seconds before Fig said, “Anyway, I figured it OUT!”
This last part was a joyful and entirely too loud screech.
“Shhhh!” Milton shushed her. “Do you want to wake up the whole island?”
“I was right!” Fig whisper-yelled, shoving her notebook at him. “The misspelled words are clues! The missing letters—they form a message!”
Milton took the notebook from her. She grinned over his shoulder while he read:
BEHIND BANYAN TRUTHS OPEN
“Egad. You really did it,” Milton said. “You cracked the code!”
Fig opened her mouth in a silent scream of happiness. She jumped up and down, and Milton joined her.
After a few moments of calisthenic joy, they settled onto the lawn chairs with the notebook between them.
“Behind Banyan Truths Open,” Milton read out loud again. “What’s that supposed to mean? And there are lots of banyans on this island. I wonder which one Dr. Paradis is talking about?”
“It’s got to be the tree ship one,” Fig replied. “It’s the biggest by far.”
“We haven’t looked at the vines there yet,” Milton said. “You know, for … reasons. But I actually encountered that reason today, and it’s quite the tale, if I do say so myself.”
He told Fig about the EarthWorm Pachyderm and how he and Rafi had rescued Gabe from the hole with the vine’s help and how Rafi had actually said both I’m sorry and Thank you. The only part he left out was the stolen field guide. He didn’t want to put a damper on the night’s amazingness.
“I don’t know which part is more unbelievable,” Fig said when he was finished. “Although I doubt it means Rafi will be happy to see us by the tree ship. But that’s just too bad for him.” She smiled, a flash of bright in the moonlight. “Okay, I’m going to go back home and get some sleep. We have a lot to figure out tomorrow.”
She hopped up and headed for the beach road. And as Milton watched his friend walk toward her sunshine door, with a sky full of stars and the soft soundtrack of an insect symphony, he felt happier than he had in a long, long time.
“So long, Fig!” he cried, completely forgetting to whisper. “Until we meet again.”
“So long, Sea Hawk!” Fig called, turning to wave at him. “See you in the morning!”