Strong Like the Sea, стр. 3

“Sure.” He nods. “Your map—does it lead to the beach?”

I scan the scroll page again. “Maybe. There’s no roads or lines or anything. Just a list of numbers and directions, see? It seems like I’m getting closer to the beach, but I won’t know for sure until I get there.”

“I heard the last challenge led to the zip line in Kahuku. I bet that was sick.” Kase eases his bike closer.

“Yeah, that was the prize—after Mom got back, we all went together.”

“So lucky,” Kase says. “It’s like she’s training you to figure out intelligence stuff like she does.”

I shrug like it’s no big deal that Mom could train me—or not—no biggie. But inside, I cling to that hope tighter than barnacles on a ship. Maybe someday Mom and I could work together on tricky cases—like some special intelligence contractor team.

“What if you can’t find it?” Jack asks.

“I’ll find it.” I’ve never let Mom down before, and I’m sure not gonna start now.

“This time—” Kase glances at the houses around us before leaning in to whisper, “I bet it’s something even better at the end, like a ride on a catamaran or sailboat.”

“On the ocean?” I wrinkle my nose. No way.

“Nah, brah. Not out there.” Ekolu bumps Kase’s shoulder. “Alex, she like something cool on island, like tickets to the RC track.”

“Or a whole year’s worth of chicken ramen.” Jack sighs, dreamy-like. “You want us to help?”

“Only you’d think that was a prize.” I roll my eyes and glance at my compass. “You can help if you want to, but weren’t you going to Sam’s store?”

Jack’s stomach growls like a caged animal, and he grips the handlebars. “What say you come to Sam’s store first—take five minutes—and then we help you finish?”

“Five? More like twenty-five, eh brah?” Ekolu snickers and mimics Jack’s voice. “I can’t decide—should I get a bag of crack seed, li hing strawberry belts, or one of every candy in the whole store?”

Sounds like Jack, all right. I wave them off. “You better go ahead. Feed Jack before he gets hangry.”

“I’m not hangry—I’m starving. There’s a difference.” Jack takes off, Ekolu on his tail.

With a shy smile, Kase lumbers up a few steps, straddling his bike with rubber slippers almost too small for his enormous feet. “You sure?”

“Yeah. No worries. I got this.” I glance up from my map and nod to my new biggest friend.

Kase is riding a tiny bike that might have fit him in second grade, making his handlebars seem no bigger than noodles inside his thick hands. Other boys grow slender and tall like banana trees that bend with the wind, but Kase seems to spread more sideways, like a banyan tree—wide and strong with solid limbs rooted to the ground.

He hesitates. “Did Malia tell you about Lowen’s history project?”

“No, why?” I listen with half an ear while my brain counts the steps I’ve already taken and subtracts them from the total number on the scroll.

“At lunch today, he told everybody that he’s been working on his history project since last summer—that it’s the best thing Laie Elementary ever saw. He’s got it hidden behind a tarp at his house or something.”

“He’s worked on it since last summer?” I tick the months off on my fingers. “July, August, September, October, November—he’s been working on it for five months already? Why?”

“It sounded like he’s sore you got the science fair grand prize last year and is trying to make sure you lose.” Kase shrugs. “Some people get way too worked up. It’s just a project, right?”

“Right.” I laugh with him like it’s no big deal—except it is a big deal to me. My mom won the history project when she was my age, and I want to show her I can do it too. How can we be a team if I can’t even win the same awards she did?

“Come on, Kase!” Jack calls from far down the street.

Kase pushes off and pedals after the others. “See you later.”

“See you.” I sigh. If Lowen’s got such a big head start, I’ll have to work extra hard to even have a chance at winning. The whole thing feels a lot like cheating and stinks worse than a whole swarm of B-52 roaches, but I’ll worry about it later.

Today, I’m on a mission and—bonus!—I get to see Mom over video chat tonight. No way am I letting Lowen and his stupid project ruin my day. He can go jump in the eel hole for all I care—him and his top-secret report.

I brush my long brown hair over my shoulder out of the way and wait for my compass to stop swaying before checking the direction against the instructions.

One hundred steps mauka.

Got it. My bare feet pace off steps as I walk up one street and down another until Mom’s instructions lead me down Naniloa Loop to Kamehameha Highway, where crosswalks and 25-mph speed limit signs give safe passage for residents to get to the beaches on the other side.

A red convertible full of tourists roars by with the radio blasting—probably headed for the North Shore—and I glance both ways before running across the two narrow lanes to Hukilau Beach.

With only a couple directions left on my scroll—both of them headed toward the ocean—it’s a safe bet that Mom’s treasure must be hidden nearby, somewhere between me and the sea.