Outside Fran’s house, I opened my journal to the page with the map taped to it. In all the time I’d lived at the orphanage, I hadn’t done much exploring around town. But I had a map. How hard could it be to find the Explorers Club?

Somewhere about the time I stepped in the dog poop taking a shortcut through a park, I realized I must have made a mistake. And not by turning left when I should have turned right.

I mean, I must have made a mistake thinking I could be related to an explorer!

I was just about the opposite of an explorer. I couldn’t find my way anywhere!

A couple hours later, my feet were sore all the way from their bumpy ankles to their teeny toenails. But I had found the Explorers Club.

The building looked like a cross between an Egyptian pyramid, the Great Wall of China, and an igloo. I figured every time one of the explorers got back from somewhere, they must’ve added something from that place to the building.

I pushed on the front door, which looked like it could have come from an Aztec temple.

CREEEAAK. The door swung open.

Inside, the hallway was lined with huge paintings. A sign above them read “Past Members.” One of the pictures showed an explorer being swallowed by quicksand. Another was of a man being mauled by a tiger in a jungle. The rest were even more gruesome.

At the end of the hallway, I heard voices coming from behind a door that looked kind of scary.

(It didn’t smell all that great either.)

But there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the whole building.

So I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Inside was a men’s room, crowded with a dozen or so very old men.

“I say,” one of them said to me, “you’re a little peculiar looking for an explorer.”

“Oh, no, I’m not an explorer,” I replied. “The front door was unlocked, so I just . . .”

The old men nodded.

“Hmm . . . must have forgotten to lock that again,” said one of them. “But then, we seem to be forgetting a lot of things these days. We were headed to the dining room just now when we forgot the way and ended up here. Rather embarrassing for a group of explorers, wouldn’t you say?”

I didn’t know anything about exploring or explorers, so I told them I really couldn’t say.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet a young man with an interest in exploring,” said a tall explorer.

“So tell us, where have you been?” said another. “Anyplace exotic? Nothing explorers love more than a good tale of a trip to the exotic!”

The other explorers nodded excitedly as they crowded around me.

“Well, besides Mr. Shelley’s orphanage,” I told them, “the only place I’ve been is here.”

They all looked disappointed.

“To be honest,” I said, “before this morning, I didn’t even know that there were explorers anymore. Well, except Dora —”

All the explorers let out a groan.

“Sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “I know that’s just a cartoon.”

“Oh, no, that show is based on a very real explorer,” said the tall explorer. “Doratea Emma Maria is a member of this club. An excellent explorer. Just not as good of an explorer as I.”

“Or I!” said another.

“Or I!” echoed the rest.

“You know, those television people actually approached me first,” said the tall explorer. “They wanted to make a show about MY explorations. Only I couldn’t remember them!”

“Doratea always did have a good memory,” said another explorer. “That’s her strong suit. That and her counting.”

He turned to me. “Now then,” he said. “What brings you here?”

I told him I was looking for the explorer named Robert Percy.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” said the tall explorer. The other explorers murmured in agreement. My stomach sank.

“No, wait!” said the tall explorer. “Now I remember. Robert is a member of this club. But he’s not here at the moment.”

Holy crud! I found him!

I mean, sure, I had to wait for him to come back. But I had waited my whole life to find my family. I could wait a little longer.

“When will he be back?” I asked.

The tall explorer looked at me. “Well, my best guess would be . . . never.”