Milton’s parents stayed on the Lone Island for two weeks. During those two weeks, they swam in the bay and canoed in the river and met his friends and even made it behind the vines (although it took quite a lot of hint-giving on Milton’s part). Milton could tell, at the end of each sun-soaked, salt-kissed day, that being there on the island, out in the wild, was as good for them as it had been for him. When they discussed plans for next year, Weekend Park Expeditions was at the top of Milton’s list.
And then—quicker than he expected and sooner than he wanted—his time on the Lone Island came to an end.
On the last day, everyone gathered on the docks to say goodbye. Fig, Rafi, and Gabe were there, of course. So were Dr. Morris and the Drs. Alvarez. Lord Snarlsy wasn’t there, but he had given Milton a super disgusting hairball to remember him by (Milton had tried to act appreciative after he stopped feeling so blerghy).
“Before Milton goes,” Uncle Evan told everyone, “I want to make a few announcements. First, I’m very pleased to share that the Drs. Alvarez have agreed to stay for another year.”
The adults applauded and hugged, but Milton swung toward Rafi, anticipating grumpy-duck-faced fury. “You’re staying?” he said. “Didn’t you tell them how much you wanted to leave?”
Rafi, surprisingly, didn’t look one bit furious. “I did, and they said we would go at the end of the summer. But then I realized that they weren’t going to get to enjoy that twelve-legged spider or the giant butterfly or that beetle that turns itself inside out or any of the other insects behind the vines. So I told them we can stay.” He grinned at Milton and shrugged. “I figure another year here might not be so bad.”
Milton smiled back. He was glad Rafi was happy. He was glad Fig would not be alone … he was also insanely jealous. If only he could have more time on the Lone Island!
“Another announcement,” Uncle Evan said, his voice as loud and strong as it had been during his visit to Milton’s house seven years ago. “Dr. Morris, the Drs. Alvarez, and I have been talking, and we’ve decided to start a summer camp here on the island.”
“Camp?” Milton balked. “I know you four are brilliant scientists, but have you really thought this through? You’re going to let a bunch of kids roam through the centopus-and-UnderCover-Cat-filled jungle? Forgive me for saying so, but egad! I’m truly questioning our choice to let you manage the island, Uncle Evan.”
“It will be called the Naturalist and Explorer Extraordinaire Camp,” Uncle Evan continued. “And during its inaugural summer, there will only be four campers.”
Fig, Rafi, and Gabe cheered. It took Milton a moment (it was quite the pendulum swing of emotions), but when he understood, he cheered too.
He would be coming back to this place that felt so much like home.
And then it was time to go. Milton hugged Dr. Morris (who still called him Sea Hawk sometimes, which he didn’t really mind) and the Drs. Alvarez (who gave him his second very disgusting souvenir—the molted exoskeleton of an Incredible Symphonic Cicada).
Rafi was next in the line of well-wishers. Looking anywhere but at Milton, he held out a package wrapped in newspaper (a completed word-puzzle page).
“Here,” he said. “I got you a going-away present.”
“That was incredibly thoughtful, Rafi,” Milton told him. “Kind and sensitive and sweet. I always knew, even after you shook that fruit onto my head, that you had a soft side.”
“Yeah, yeah, just open it,” Rafi said.
Milton unwrapped the newspaper, slightly terrified that it might contain more bugs.
But it didn’t. Inside was a pair of binoculars.
They weren’t the very expensive, super high-tech Magnifycent2000s he had tried to persuade his parents to purchase for him. They also weren’t neon-green plastic with seagull stickers.
They were somewhere in between.
They were perfect.
“Thank you, Rafi,” Milton said, pulling Rafi into a hug that he allowed for two very nice seconds.
“You’re welcome, Milt,” Rafi said.
“Gotcha a present too, me hearty,” Gabe sang. He thrust a large Yes-No-Maybe-So leaf-page into Milton’s hands. Drawn there was a squashy sort of circle covered in triangles on sticks and squiggly lines and one big X.
“How magnificent,” Milton said. “Very abstract.”
“It’s a treasure map,” Gabe informed him.
“Oh, I see,” Milton said. He rotated the leaf-page this way and that, squinting through his spectacles. “What does it lead to?”
Gabe laughed and spread his arms wide. “Here, of course,” he said. “It’ll lead you right back to the Lone Island. Right back to us.”
“Of course it will,” Milton said, trying not to blink his suddenly very full eyes.
Fig was last in the goodbye line. Milton didn’t want to say goodbye to Fig, not ever.
He knew he had to though, and so he had spent an extraordinarily long time the night before trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. He had composed a speech, in fact, about how she had lifted him from the mire of friendlessness and let him into her circle of Latin-name-knowingness and fearless-tree-climberly brilliance and about how her eyebrows alone were more eloquent than he could ever hope to be and how he would join her on a scientific expedition any day. It had been a truly beautiful speech.
But when he stood in front of her there on the dock, all Milton could manage was, “Great flapping falcons, I’m going to miss you!” before he burst into tears.
Fig studied him with wide, shiny eyes.
“It’s a good thing you came here this summer,” she said. “Otherwise, we would have lost our island. And I wouldn’t have gotten to meet my best friend.”
And then Fig hugged him.
And Milton P. Greene—former Bird Brain, son of now-divorced parents, failed karate student, cringe-and-weep-inducing singer, abysmal canoer, nearsighted, farsighted, short, skinny, friendless-until-just-a-few-months-ago—he had never been so happy to be himself.
“So long!” he yelled as Uncle Evan motored the little boat away from the dock. “Until next summer!”
“So long!” yelled Fig and Rafi and Gabe. “So long, Milton!”
It had been the Most Seriously, Supremely, Unexpectedly, Astonishingly Spectaculous Summer of All Time.