Ahead of them, on a small rise, there was a tree with huge leaves that attached to branches on both sides and sagged in the middle. They looked like dozens and dozens of hammocks, and Milton, who was in serious need of just the tiniest rest, beelined that way, saying, “Let’s discuss this while we recline! Sans arachnid, please!”
The leaf hammocks were surprisingly soft and comfy, and Milton felt instantly better as he sank into the lowest one. Fig plunked down next to him, and Rafi and Gabe took the hammock across.
“Okay, Rafi, what did you find?” Fig asked, leaning forward.
Rafi opened the field guide with a flourish and held it between the hammocks. “I noticed,” he said in a voice that Milton couldn’t help thinking was a little ship-captainy, “that there are several words written in capital letters.” He pointed to the Astari Night Avis entry. “See, here it says GO. That’s the only thing in all capitals.” He turned to the Menu-You Bush page next. “And here it says TO.”
In the UnderCover Cat entry, he showed them the all-caps THE. And then finally, in the Enmity-Amity Tree entry was the last part of the clue:
Habitat: Even nearer to the CENTER OF THE ISLAND
“See?” Rafi said triumphantly. “Go to the center of the island. It’s a clue. I told you I’d be able to help!”
“I can’t believe I never noticed that,” Fig said, flipping through the pages herself. “But you’re right.”
Milton hadn’t noticed it either, and right then he wished more than anything that he had. Fig got out her compass and determined their course, and then they were off again, toward the center of the island.
Less than an hour later, however, Gabe was starting to fall behind, and his elbow bandages had little spots of red coming through (yet another thing for Milton to avert his eyes from). Milton didn’t have any EarthWorm Pachyderm–related injuries, but he was having a hard time keeping up too (probably due to exhaustion from all that paddling).
“It’s going to be dusk in an hour,” Fig said after Milton and Gabe plopped down onto the ground only ten minutes after their last break, “and it seems like we’re already pretty far inland. Maybe we should think about setting up camp.”
“Agreed,” Rafi said before Milton could reply. “And look—do you think those are the Starlight Starbright Trees over there? Don’t the leaves look star-shaped?”
“Unbelievable,” Milton muttered. “Egad.”
Because they did. The leaves were five-pointed and shimmery gold, spaced out on branches of gleaming silver. When they hiked closer, they saw that the trees grew in a circular copse with a flat, open space in the center. It was, as Dr. Paradis had pointed out, an excellent place to make camp, and Milton really wished that he had been the one to find it.
In a major wilderness-preparedness fail, he hadn’t thought to bring a tent. Rafi had told his parents he was taking Gabe camping for one night, but he hadn’t brought a tent either, because the Drs. Alvarez believed in open-air camping only—the better to see the sky and feel the earth—but also the better to be eaten alive by the Lone Island’s killer mosquitoes. Luckily, Fig had them covered (literally).
“You don’t need assistance, do you?” Milton asked as he watched her pulling tent poles and olive-green nylon out of the little bag she produced from her backpack.
“I’ve got it, Sea Hawk,” she replied.
Milton, whose talents did not lie in assemblage of any sort, was relieved.
Until Rafi came over and started assisting in the assemblage, putting poles together left and right. He didn’t even need to ask Fig for instructions!
Gabe was suddenly there too, gleefully pounding tent pegs into the ground with a rock.
“Here, allow me!” Milton said too loudly. He rushed over and yanked on one of the curving tent poles (they were supposed to be straight up and down, right?) and—
The whole thing collapsed.
Fig sighed. Rafi scowled and pshawed very noisily. Gabe kept banging the pegs.
“Okay. Well. I’m just going to scope out the perimeter,” Milton said, backing away from all of them. “So long!”
He didn’t run, but he did walk double time as he headed toward the edge of the clearing. There was a stream trickling along there, and he threw in some star-leaves and sticks that shimmered like tinsel. He could hear Fig, Rafi, and Gabe setting up the campsite, being all handy and outdoorsy without him. So much for him being in charge of anything.
Here was another problem Sea Hawk had never faced. Sea Hawk never had to prove anything to anyone. He was a lone explorer, his stomach was probably made of steel, and he could definitely set up a tent. He could make a shelter out of coconut husks and conch shells!
Milton tossed more tinsel sticks, feeling a little queasy, a little rotten, and a lot alone.
Then something fluorescent caught his eye.
Hanging low in the bushes were dozens of fruits, mango-like and vividly pink and orange. Milton recognized them from the field guide—they were from the Menu-You Bush—although it wasn’t an entry he had spent much time puzzling over. He did remember that the fruits were delicious, and it occurred to him that this could be his redemption. He hadn’t found the clues or the campsite or set up the tent, but he could forage their dinner, and wasn’t that just as impressive—maybe even more so?
“Have I got a treat for you all!” he hollered as he plucked the fruits and loaded them into his explorer hat (yet another use!). He was so busy looking below that he didn’t look above.
Where an enormous scarlet leaf-trap hung like a waiting open mouth.
“Come on over, everyone,” he called. “I have fruit from the Menu-You Bu—AHHH!”
Milton P. Greene was swallowed whole.