I’m not sure who first got the idea that you could start a fire by rubbing two sticks together. It is extremely difficult, if not impossible. As you may know if you are a Scout or a forest ranger, a somewhat easier method for starting a fire is to make a hand drill out of a stick. Alas, even this method is difficult unless you’ve done it many times before. The first time he attempted it, Clay failed to make a spark. Thankfully, so did everyone else in his cabin. He was not alone in his embarrassment.*
The fire pit was situated under a large geodesic dome about halfway between Big Yurt and the lake. They could see the sun setting over the lake as each of them tried over and over to make a flame. Eventually, they were sitting under the dome in the dark, like cavemen waiting for the invention of fire. In the center of the fire pit, logs were piled in the shape of a teepee, teasing them with the promise of warmth. Clay felt chilly for the first time since he’d been at camp.
“You’re all trying too hard,” said Buzz, who was seemingly as impervious to the passage of time as he was to the vagaries of temperature. “You have to let the fire breathe.”
“Look at the bright side, this way you don’t have to teach us how to put a fire out,” said Kwan.
“Can’t you just do it for us? I’m freezing,” complained Jonah.
“I heard somebody needed a light,” said Flint, casually swinging himself under the dome from out of the darkness.
His eyes glinting, Flint stood over the fire pit and snapped his fingers. For a second, sparks flew from his hand as if he were soldering a pipe. Then the logs burst into flame.
Amazed, Clay looked around at the others. They seemed amused more than anything else. It wasn’t the first time they’d seen Flint’s pyrotechnics.
Buzz’s eyes narrowed. “This was supposed to be a teaching moment, Flint, not a fireworks display.”
Flint laughed. “Just trying to lend a helping hand.”
“I was going to invite you to stay for roasted mush-mallows, but maybe you should just go,” said Buzz, visibly irritated.
“Sure, I hate those things anyway.” Flint sauntered away, fire crackling behind him.
“I told you he was a pyro,” Jonah whispered to Clay.
How did he do it, Clay wondered, watching Flint go. Did he have gunpowder on his fingers? A lighter up his sleeve? For the second time, Clay was stumped by one of Flint’s magic tricks. As much as he disliked Flint, Clay couldn’t help being impressed by his skill.
The mush-mallows were not mushy marshmallows, as Clay had hoped, but rather mushrooms roasted on sticks, marshmallow-style. Buzz claimed that the mushrooms, which were a very rare species found only on Price Island, had a marshmallow-like sweetness, but to Clay they tasted like dirt. About this one subject, he agreed with Flint. When Buzz wasn’t looking, Clay spit his mushroom into his hand and discreetly dropped it to the ground.
While the others roasted more mushrooms, Clay sat on a log, gazing into the campfire, unable to get the mysterious reading girl out of his head. He kept seeing her in the tower window, her red hair seeming to engulf her head in flames.
Who was she? Why was she hiding? What was her secret?
Finally, when he couldn’t bear it any longer, Clay pointed in the library’s direction. “Hey, what’s up with that tower over there—you know, the one past the ruins?” he asked, hoping that his breezy tone would keep Buzz from suspecting that he had crossed the Wall of Trust. “I saw it from a distance when I was walking Como, and I wondered what was inside.”
“Ah, the Price Public Library,” said Buzz, his expression not giving much away. “One of the world’s biggest rare book collections, that’s what’s inside.”
“You ever go in?” Clay asked, trying to hide his eagerness.
Buzz shook his head. “It’s outside the Wall of Trust.”
“You’re a counselor!” said Pablo.
“Nobody is supposed to go in,” said Buzz. “Price left strict instructions in his will.”
“And nobody’s ever tried?” asked Clay.
“Oh, a few have tried,” said Buzz, looking hard at Clay. “We moved the Wall of Trust because of what happened.”
“Why? What happened?” Clay’s leg started to jiggle. Did Buzz know he’d been there? It almost seemed like it.
“A ghost!” joked Kwan. “That’s what Jonah thinks.”
“Oh, shut up,” said Jonah.
“Actually, you’re not too far off.” Buzz glanced around the group. “You guys want to hear a ghost story?”
“This is a campfire, isn’t it?” said Kwan.
“Just make sure there’s lots of blood,” said Pablo.
“Only a little blood, but lots of gold,” said Buzz.
“Like gold gold?” asked Kwan. “Or like money?”
“Both,” said Buzz. “Do you all know what alchemy is?”