Strong Like the Sea, стр. 58

The Castle Crew freaks out when I tell them we solved the challenge. Even Malia’s excited—after I shake her awake at her desk. “Finished? That’s awesome.” She stretches and winks. “Done well, you have.”

Kase makes a big deal out of putting his shades on. “And thus, the spymaster apprentice becomes a master. Oh yeah!”

“We knew you could do it.” Jack taps his pen against his math book.

“What say we go Sam’s store for grindz?” Ekolu ribs Jack with his elbow. “Celebrate!”

“No can; gotta work—and missing assignments to make up.”

I’m not sure what to think of this new Jack who suddenly cares about his homework, won’t go to Sam’s store, and doesn’t have snacks in his pockets. I figure, either he’s trying to be healthy all at once, or there’s trouble he’s not telling us. Either way, if Castle Crew can help me figure out a challenge as hard as Mom’s, we should be able to figure out what’s up with Jack no problem.

The next three days fly by as I pack and dive into my history report so hard, it’s mostly done by Friday. With all my notes about Mavis Batey and Bletchley Park, I’m sure to be one of the best—except I want to be the best.

If one example of coded messages in action is cool, three examples should knock those judges right off their boards.

I already have a cardboard replica of the top of an Enigma machine. No way can I make all the inside gears, but the top part looks awesome. I painted it and everything.

My second display was gonna be a cryptex, which is a tube thing that destroys the message inside if the user doesn’t open it with the right code. But it turns out, they don’t exist in history! Super rude. I thought Da Vinci invented them ages ago, but nope; an author made them up.

So instead, I made a Caesar cipher with two cardboard circles stacked on top of each other like a little sand dollar sitting on top of a big one, both with the alphabet written all the way around the outside. Rotate one and the letters all shift to change the code. Probably I’ll make up a few messages so they can try to figure them out.

I’m still deciding on the third one, but other than that, my report is basically done—except I have to copy it off my papers and type it up. And that will have to wait till I get back from the Big Island, since Dad says the schedule is too full to work on it there. Either way, when I’m finished with the displays, it’s gonna be epic!

Take that, Lowen!

Dad calls Mom’s work every day for news, but he doesn’t have Mom’s clearance or connections, so when he calls, the answer is always the same. “The sub has gone silent. We have no further information at this time. We will contact you as soon as we have anything to tell you.”

He says she’s safe though, because the news would have said something if a sub had sunk, and there’s been no rumors like that at all, so we just need to wait, and I shouldn’t worry.

Now if only I could make myself believe that. I do trust Dad, and if he says things will be okay, I’ll do my best to believe him. But after the super typhoon and all the footage that night, I don’t think I’ll really believe she’s safe until I see her with my own eyes and hug her for all I’m worth. So that’s where I’m at: I mostly believe Mom will be home soon-ish.

Uncle and Auntie will fly out of Honolulu tomorrow to meet us in Hilo, but Dad has me out the door way early—which is right on time, according to him. On the way to our gate, Dad leads me through the cultural gardens in the middle of the airport before our flight. He put it on the agenda because Mom loves the living island garden there, and she was supposed to be with us. My favorite part is the koi ponds, but Dad gets fidgety if I linger too long in one spot. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m taking too long or because Mom’s missing one of her favorite spots.

My stomach makes a dash for the ground when we take off, and Dad lets me hold his hand till the bumps and drops are over. The best part is when white haze covers the cabin windows all at once and rushes past in misty threads as we rise above the clouds and break into the sun. From so far up, it’s like I can see the whole ocean—or at least I could, if I had a telescope. Long before an hour is up, the tilt of the plane changes and my ears pop as our pilot eases us in for touchdown in Hilo.

When Dad pulls the rental car into our Airbnb in Hawaiian Paradise Park, Song of India trees line the driveway, with thin yellow and green leaves clustered like fireworks over our heads. Deep blue, purple, and pink orchids hover between the boughs as if leaning out to say hello from their hidden balconies.

“Wow.” They must’ve had a real tall ladder to tie the orchid roots to the branches so high up.

Dad pops open the trunk. “What say you explore the yard and report back?”

“Okay.”

Spiky shrubs, each with a baby pineapple growing in the center, dot the yard and lead the way around back. In the nearest corner, I spy a golf ball–sized snail creeping