“You might as well give up,” she said. “You can’t beat me. I’m faster than you.”
He knew her strategy—it was to freak him out and thus weaken him. He’d been on the receiving end of this strategy many times in his life. Earl, the boy at school, used the strategy every time he wanted to get something from Homer. “See this muscle in my arm, Homer?” he’d say. “I’ve been practicing on a punching bag. I’m getting real good. Oops, you dropped your doughnut. Guess it belongs to me now.”
“There’s no way you’ll grab the coin before I grab it,” Lorelei said. “So just give up and save yourself the embarrassment.”
“Just watch,” Homer said, gritting his teeth. He held tight to the leash as they inched across the clearing. “You’ll be the one who’s embarrassed.” Then he stumbled backward as the leash suddenly went limp. “DOG!” he yelled. Dog had pulled so hard that the collar had snapped. Free, he galloped across the open space, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, rolls of skin undulating like a belly dancer’s stomach.
The coin is mine! Homer regained his balance, but just as he took a step forward, Lorelei stuck out her leg and tripped him. Nothing Lorelei did shocked Homer, not anymore. That’s why, before he landed face-first on the ground, he reached out and grabbed her pant leg, pulling her down with him.
“Ow!” Lorelei cried, landing on her shoulder. Homer spat out some pine needles. Then he threw himself across Lorelei’s back, pinning her like a wiggling insect to a science board. “Get off me! You’re killing me!” Lorelei kicked her legs.
“No. You can’t have the coin.”
As Homer sat on Lorelei, Dog skidded to a stop in the center of the clearing. He flipped onto his back and began to roll. This is it, Homer thought. The end of the quest. He blocked one of Lorelei’s flailing legs. He and Dog hadn’t survived the coliseum, a jump from an airplane, a mosquito attack, and a hungry grizzly bear for nothing. This was the final measure of his strength and character. Could he outmaneuver his opponent? Could he outwit her? Maybe not, but he certainly outweighed her, and he wasn’t going to let her get one inch closer to Dog.
Dog would find the coin and faithfully bring it to him. Homer’s fingers twitched as he imagined holding the coin once again. The first time he’d held it had been the day Dog arrived at Pudding Goat Farm. Homer had found the coin hanging from Dog’s collar. Today, he’d hold it up to the sky, the sunlight dancing along its face, and proclaim, “I am Homer Winslow Pudding, and this is my membership coin.”
“Let me go!” Lorelei cried, trying to twist around and punch him.
“No. That’s my coin, Lorelei, and you know it.”
Dog rubbed his back against the soft ground, groaning happily as he covered himself with the scent of treasure. Being the only scent he knew, it appeared to have a hypnotic power over him—in much the same way that a single color in a world of black and white would be difficult, if not impossible, to ignore.
Dog rolled onto his feet and began to dig. “Good boy,” Homer called, blocking Lorelei’s jabbing elbow. “Stop it, Lorelei. I’m not letting you go until I have the coin.”
Lying in his room at night, staring at the maps on his ceiling, Homer had long imagined the moment when he would uncover a great treasure. He’d wanted it to be exactly like the moment when Gustav Gustavson had found Aphrodite’s toothbrush. The moment had been captured in a grainy black-and-white photo. Gustav had stood in his adventurer clothes next to the ruins of an ancient temple. His feet wide-set, his chin jutting proudly, he’d held the artifact above his head as if offering it to the universe. The words he’d spoken were known by treasure hunters worldwide—as significant as those words spoken when man first stepped on the moon. “I have unearthed a treasure, and even though I don’t yet know what it is, I’m fairly confident that it’s important.”
Homer wanted to say something just as memorable—something that would be quoted for generations. And he’d always imagined himself in the same bold stance, in his adventure gear, holding his treasure above his head.
Not sitting on a girl.
“I… can’t… breathe,” Lorelei gasped.
“If you’re talking, then you’re breathing,” Homer said. Quick movement caught his eye as Daisy hopped off the backpack and scampered across the clearing. A thief by nature, she circled around Dog as he dug, her nose wiggling excitedly. “Get away, Daisy!” Homer yelled. How was he supposed to keep both Lorelei and Daisy away from the coin?
Dirt flew as Dog broke through the top layer of soil. How far down did the Humongous Fungus grow? His tail wagging, Dog worked his stubby front legs like a speed skater.
“I… can’t… breathe,” Lorelei whispered. “Get…” And then she stopped squirming and went limp.
Homer folded his arms. “I’m not falling for your tricks.” But Lorelei lay perfectly still. Her chest didn’t rise or fall. Homer narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t squish a person to death, could he? “Lorelei,” he said, sliding off her back. “Are you okay?”
In a blur of jeans and stripes, Lorelei shot up and raced toward Dog before Homer had blinked. “Sucker!” she cried, halfway to Dog as Homer struggled to his feet.
It was a race of life or death—at least that’s how it felt to Homer. Forcing his legs to move the way they’d never moved before, summoning strength from muscles he didn’t even know existed, he dashed after Lorelei. She reached Dog’s side and fell on her knees. Her hands flying alongside Dog, she dug. Homer grabbed her by the sneaker and pulled her a few feet away from the hole. She kicked him in the chest, then crawled back to the hole. “Where is it?” she cried. “Daisy, help me find it.”
Homer grabbed her by the shoe again and just as she kicked, the shoe slid off and he tumbled backward. Fury burned through his entire body. Lorelei kept digging, her pink hair coated with bits of forest floor, her face streaked with dirt, her eyes wild.
Homer tossed the shoe aside, clenched his jaw, balled up his fist, and…
And froze, his fist hovering just above Lorelei’s back.
38
Cave Woman
Homer Winslow Pudding unclenched his fist and stepped back. Shame, hot and prickly, stung his cheeks. His uncle’s voice spoke clearly in his mind.
Even the most noble treasure hunter can go bad.
“What am I doing?” he whispered. He’d almost hurt another person just to get to a treasure. And that other person was a girl, which made it worse. There was nothing courageous, or noble, or justifiable, about hitting a girl.
He walked away.
He walked away from the digging and sat on the crest of the beach, where the rocky shore turned sandy. His arms wrapped around his knees, he looked out at the quiet cove. A harbor seal popped its head out of the water. A seagull flew past and dropped a clam, which burst open on a rock. The afternoon sun warmed Homer’s face and arms. The Humongous Fungus had chosen a beautiful place to grow.
“He found it!” Lorelei cried from the clearing. “He found the coin.”
Though the temptation was great, Homer didn’t turn around. He wasn’t going to fight her. He’d made his decision.
“Give it here!” she yelled.
As Lorelei chased after Dog, the seagull landed and ate the yellow clam meat. Homer picked up a rock and tossed it into the shallows. It had all come down to this—wanting something wasn’t enough. How he went about getting the thing he wanted, well, that was everything.
A shriek pierced Homer’s ears. “No! Oh no! He ate it!” Lorelei stomped over to Homer and looked down at him, her hands on her hips. “Did you hear me? He ate it.”
“Urrrr.” Dog pushed his way onto Homer’s lap, his tail wagging.
“What?”
Lorelei’s face erupted as every pore turned bright red. “He ate it.” She grimaced, her nostrils flaring to twice their size. “I’m telling you, your dog ate the coin.”
“He ate the coin?”
Dog’s tail whapped against the sand. Then he burped. Homer opened Dog’s mou
th and looked inside. “You ate the coin?” he asked. Dog licked Homer’s hand.
That was a turn of events most unexpected. Laughter burst out of Homer. For the first time ever, he was grateful that Dog liked to eat weird things. “He ate it,” he said, belly laughing as he lay back onto the sand. Dog scooted close to Homer’s face. “You ate it. You ate it!”
“It’s not funny, Homer.” Lorelei stomped her foot. “It’s not one bit funny.”
Dog licked Homer’s face, then rested his chin on Homer’s chest. Homer wrapped his arms over Dog’s back and squeezed. “He ate it,” he said, snorting with laughter.
Then a very odd thing happened, even more unexpected than Dog eating the membership coin. A quiet snicker crept out of Lorelei’s mouth. Then another snicker, and another, until she was laughing, too.
She sank onto the sand next to Homer, then onto her back. And there they lay, side by side, laughing. A boy in a green shirt, khaki shorts, leech-proof socks, and boots. A girl in jeans, a black-and-white-striped shirt, and one sneaker. Just a couple of kids with a droopy dog stretched between them. They let the laughter work its way through their bodies, expelling all the emotion of the day’s adventure. Then quiet fell over them.
“You know what you’re going to have to do to get that coin,” Lorelei said.
“Yeah, I know,” Homer said. But picking through dog poop was nothing compared with what he’d been through. Down the beach, another seagull dropped a clam. “But you know what? I might not fight you for treasure, but I won’t let you take Dog. Not ever again.”
“I know that,” she said. “Just so you know, I didn’t take him. I borrowed him. There’s a difference.”
“Yeah, well, if you borrow him again, our gentleman’s agreement is over.” Homer sat up. “You get that? I will break my promise to you and tell the world about your secret lair.”
Lorelei also sat up. “I thought you believed in promises and oaths and stuff like that.”
“I do. But you’re the one who said you don’t have to stick to anything you don’t want to stick to, remember?”
Lorelei nodded. A shoelace in her teeth, Daisy dragged the tennis shoe to Lorelei’s side. “So what’s next?” Lorelei asked as she pulled the shoe onto her foot.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you got the coin. You won the challenge. Now that you are a member of L.O.S.T., what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go home and go back to school,” Homer said.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it for now. But that’s not it forever.” He scratched Dog behind an ear. “I’m still going to look for Rumpold Smeller’s treasure, just like my uncle did. But I’ll probably have to wait a few years.”
“Why would you have to wait a few years? You’ll have L.O.S.T. to help you.”
Homer shrugged. “Maybe I won’t have to wait. I’m not sure what will happen.”
“Well, I’m going back to the lair and I’m making some big plans. I’m gonna sell those harmonic crystals right away and buy a few things.”
“What kind of things?”
“I’m not telling you that. If I told you, then you’d have too many secrets on me.” She tied her laces. “But I did decide something important.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to make up a last name for myself. Just because I’m an orphan doesn’t mean I’m nobody. I came from somebody and one day I’m going to find out who, and then I’ll have a last name.”
Dog turned his face toward the horizon. The sound of a motor skipped into the cove. The seals darted underwater. Lorelei jumped to her feet and shielded her eyes with her hand. “It’s a yacht. A huge yacht.”
An enormous white boat turned into the cove. But it was not a Terry Tour’s tour boat, and no tourists hung over the railing. Homer pushed Dog from his lap and stood. The name Cave Woman II was painted on the boat’s stern. “Dr. Magnum’s got another yacht,” Homer said.
“Uh-oh,” Lorelei said. She scooped Daisy into her hand, then ran across the clearing and grabbed her backpack. “I’m not giving these crystals back.” She shoved her arms through the straps. The crystals played a muted song from deep inside the backpack. “I’m not leaving this stupid island empty-handed.”
As the boat neared, the figure of a large woman in a floppy hat came into focus. She stood on deck. A smallish man in a black top hat stood next to her. “Lord Mockingbird,” Homer whispered. Standing along the rail was a man in a cowboy hat, a man with a gray beard and mustache, and a young woman with a hawk on her shoulder. “Jeremiah Carson, Professor Thaddius Thick, and Torch,” Homer said. Zelda stood at the bow like a silver masthead. They’d come to see who had won the quest.
Homer hurried across the clearing to Lorelei’s side. Then he pushed her toward the woods. “You’d better go. If Dr. Magnum hears the crystals inside your backpack, I don’t know what will happen.”
Lorelei looked at Homer and smiled. “You’re not going to tell on me?”
His chest still ached from where she’d kicked him. But the fight was over. Lorelei hadn’t won the quest, but she’d have enough money to buy the things she wanted. Maybe that would make her happy. Maybe she would feel the same kind of happiness that Homer felt knowing that his uncle’s coin was his, once and for all. “I won’t tell on you.”
Before he turned away, she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. It may have been the quickest hug in the history of the world, but it was a hug nonetheless. “See ya, Homer,” she said. “See ya, Dog.” Then she ran off, her rat clinging to her shoulder.
Homer watched as her pink hair disappeared into the greens and browns of the forest.
“Urrrr.” Dog pushed against Homer’s shin.
“You’re gonna miss her, aren’t you?” Homer said. Dog wagged his tail. “Well, I’m not.” But Homer turned one last time, hoping to catch sight of the pink hair and freckled face.
Lord Mockingbird’s top hat bobbed as a rowboat approached the shore. Dr. Gertrude Magnum dropped the oars, then stepped out of the boat and into the shallows. “Hello, Homer,” she said with a friendly smile. The hem of her white nautical dress soaked up the salt water as, with a heave, she pulled the boat onto the beach. Diamonds sparkled from around her neck. Emeralds glinted on her fingers. “His Lordship ordered the others to stay on the yacht,” she explained. “He wanted to speak to you in private.”
Dog loped to the side of the rowboat. Gertrude bent to pat his head. Dog pointed his nose at Lord Mockingbird, his tail wagging. Lord Mockingbird paid him no mind. He sat on the boat’s bench seat, picking at a muffin and mumbling incoherently.
“I’ve never been to this island,” Gertrude said, adjusting her floppy hat. Everything she wore sparkled, even her eye shadow. Homer now understood why her hands were stained. How long had it taken her to dig all those booby traps around her cave? “It looks like a nice island.” She blinked quickly. “Was that the girl, just now, running off into the woods? Did she find the coin?”
“I found the coin,” Homer said.
A scowl passed across Gertrude’s face, but she quickly replaced it with a sickly sweet smile. “Congratulations. Did you hear that, Lord Mockingbird? Drake’s nephew is triumphant.” She tapped her soggy shoe on a rock. “My, my, aren’t you a lucky boy?” She reached out to pat Homer’s head, but he stepped away. “A very lucky boy.”
“I’ve been bamboozled,” His Lordship said, shaking the muffin in the air. “Hornswoggled! These muffins are polluted with raisins.”
Gertrude looked in the direction of her cave. “Since I’ve never been to this island, I think I’ll take a little walk.” She grabbed her purse from the rowboat. “You two have much to discuss. I’ll be back before you can even miss me.” And off she went, down the beach, her purse swinging from her wrist.
Lord Mockingbird dropped the muffin onto the rowboat floor, then screwed up his face as if he were about to have a stroke, or maybe it was gas from the raisins. “Are you
okay?” Homer asked.
His Lordship’s bloodshot eyes darted right, then left. He sat so hunched, his shoulders were practically in his lap. “Is that nincompoop gone?”
“Who?” Homer asked.
“The cave woman. Is she gone?”
Dr. Magnum, who had power-walked her way to the end of the cove, darted around its bend. “Yes, she’s gone.”
Lord Mockingbird cleared his throat, then sat up straight. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a set of teeth, which he popped into his mouth. As he set his top hat aside, a little smile pushed up his wrinkled cheeks. He patted the other rowboat bench, and when he next spoke, it was not in a feeble, confused voice but in a voice of strength and clarity. “Get in, young man. We have much to discuss.”
39
Lord Mockingbird’s Secret
With a grunt, Homer heaved Dog into the rowboat, then climbed in after. The boat rocked back and forth on the shore as Homer settled onto the bench facing Lord Mockingbird. Dog immediately ate the muffin, paper cup and all. Then he poked His Lordship’s leg with his nose, his tail wagging as if he’d found another piece of treasure. Lord Mockingbird stretched out his hand. “Good boy,” he said, rubbing Dog’s nose. “I’ve missed you.”
Homer thought that an odd thing to say, seeing as His Lordship had only met Dog the one time at the membership meeting in Zelda’s kitchen.
“How is he doing?” Lord Mockingbird asked, his voice still crisp and understandable. “Are you making certain he doesn’t eat anything strange or poisonous? Are you keeping his secret? You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
Homer blinked, then blinked again as he reworked the questions in his mind. It was odd enough that His Lordship was no longer spitting out those strange little words, but now he was acting as if he knew all about Dog. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Of course you’re sure what I mean.” His Lordship stopped petting Dog and pointed a withered finger at Homer. “Have you told anyone that your dog can smell treasure?”