Milton went directly to the river. Fig brought him a tiny bar of soap that she had packed (who would ever think to bring soap?), and since he had only brought an extra pair of socks (which earned him a “Sea Hawk. Seriously?” from Fig), Rafi lent him a spare outfit.
“These are my only extra clothes,” Rafi said, putting them on a rock. “So please try not to get eaten again.”
“I shall do my absolute best,” Milton promised.
Even though the last half hour had been truly harrowing, Milton was in good spirits after washing in the river. On the one hand, he had foolishly wandered into the maw of a carnivorous plant. But on the other hand, he had escaped using his brains, brawn, and bravery—and the help of his expedition mates.
Back by the (now assembled) tent, Fig had Milton’s explorer hat. It was still clean (small blessings) and full of the fruits Milton had gathered before being ingested. They all leaned against the Starlight Starbright Trees and peeled back the fluorescent skins of what Dr. Paradis promised would be a true delicacy.
“Mine smells like mango,” Rafi said, sniffing his fruit skeptically.
“Mine does too,” Fig agreed. “Maybe Dr. Paradis was wrong about this one.”
Milton’s fruit smelled like mango too, and he didn’t want mango. He also didn’t want spaghetti and meatballs. What he wanted was pizza. Fresh, hot, cheesy goodness. Boy, wouldn’t that hit the spot after what had most definitely been the most mortal-peril-filled day of his existence. His mouth was watering just thinking about it.
He supposed mango would have to do though.
He took a bite of the Menu-You Bush fruit.
And it tasted like pizza! Well, like juicy, mushy, kind of stringy fruit pizza, but pizza nonetheless. Milton thought it was the best meal he’d had on the Lone Island yet.
“This was almost worth getting eaten for,” Milton said, grinning around the clearing as his fellow adventurers began to dig in.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Fig said. “But it’s pretty good to have tacos after a day like today. Even if they aren’t exactly the right texture.”
“You should try the spaghetti and meatballs!” suggested a juice-faced Gabe.
“Never!” Milton cried.
“That’s what I have too,” Rafi said. “It’s our favorite.”
“I may have to confiscate the remainder of these hard-won fruits if you’re going to make such abysmal culinary choices,” Milton told the confused brothers while Fig laughed.
It wasn’t long after that the Incredible Symphonic Cicadas began tuning up for their song. The little tuxedoed musicians were all over the clearing, and the song they played was a complicated number with lots of sharp notes and trills and dramatic pauses.
Milton, Fig, Rafi, and Gabe sat together in the star-clearing and listened. Milton wasn’t sure what everyone was feeling, but as he tapped his toes, he felt like he was part of that music too. He felt like he was part of the Lone Island.