The Exact Location of Home (8 page)

Everything that is done in the world is done by hope
.

—Martin Luther King, Jr
.

Except the things that are done out of stupidity.

The computer dings at me. I set the paper beside it and see a message from Gianna.

MapleGrl:    hey—found u!

CircuitBoy:  Hi.

MapleGrl:    where did u go—frankenbush sent cops looking 4 u

CircuitBoy:  I was protesting. I was wrongly accused, and then Kevin Richards got thrown in ISS with me.

MapleGrl:    r u serious?

CircuitBoy:  Would you quit it?

Maplegrl:    ??????

CircuitBoy:  You know I hate it when you don't write out the words and do normal sentences. How can I take you seriously?

MapleGrl:    u need to lighten up

CircuitBoy:  Lighten up, yourself.

MapleGrl:    i'm not the one who took off 2day

CircuitBoy:  Yeah, I know. Mom was beyond mad.

MapleGrl:    r u grounded?

CircuitBoy:  No. But only because I think she forgot. She had to get back to work.

MapleGrl:    Hey, Zig?

CircuitBoy:  Yeah?

MapleGrl:    Where were you really today?

CircuitBoy:  In the woods behind school again. Geocaching.

I wait and listen to the clock on the wall tick. Maplegrl doesn't type anything else.

CircuitBoy:  You still there?

MapleGrl:    Yep.

CircuitBoy:  How come you're not typing?

MapleGrl:    Just thinking.

CircuitBoy:  ??????

MapleGrl:    About your dad.

Leave it to Gee to know I wasn't just protesting the no-horse-chestnut throwing rule.

CircuitBoy:  I know you think it's stupid. But it's him. I know it's him. I need to track down the rest of the geocaches to find out where he is. There must be information somewhere.

MapleGrl:    Okay.

CircuitBoy:  Okay, what?

Maplegrl:    I'll help you. I bet Ruby will, too.

I lean down to unzip my backpack, pull out the GPS unit, and turn it on. I have the coordinates for three more caches that he found. Two are pretty close.

CircuitBoy:  Tomorrow after school?

MapleGrl:    u got it

I look down at the coordinates on the GPS unit again. The next set of coordinates looks like it might be close to the river, too.

CircuitBoy:  One more thing.

Maplegrl:    ???

CircuitBoy:  Wear boots.

Maplegrl:    u r so weird

CircuitBoy:  See you tomorrow!

MapleGrl:    L8RG8R

I shut down the computer and tuck the GPS unit back in my bag with an extra set of batteries. Part of me is glad Gee's coming tomorrow, but part of me is a little annoyed, like this should just be my adventure and Dad's. Even though he's not along for it.

I pick up the quote from the film container, rub my thumb against the soft wrinkled paper, and wonder what Dad left in the next cache.

Ruby's in the front hallway taping up posters when we get to school.

SAVE ROOKERY BAY!

Underneath, someone's done this incredible drawing of a great blue heron standing in reeds with a fish in its mouth. I tap the heron's beak with my finger. “Your work?” I ask Gianna. She's a great artist.

She nods. “Ruby wanted something to catch people's attention. We're going to try and get a crowd at the city council meeting.”

“You think kids will actually show up there?” I look around at my fellow eighth graders and wonder about their sense of civic responsibility. Walker Tate and Spencer McMahon are tossing a Frisbee back and forth all the way down the hall that leads to their lockers. Mary Beth Rotwiller is looking at her reflection in the office window, putting on lipstick. Bianca Rinaldi is showing Kevin Richards one of the moves she learned in her hip-hop dance class over the weekend. She looks like a tropical bird I saw doing a mating dance on the Discovery Channel once.

“Extra credit.” Gianna smiles. “Ruby convinced the teachers to offer social studies points to anybody who shows up.”

“How'd you manage that?”

“Caring about your environment and taking part in the democratic process is a citizenship issue,” Ruby says, taping up a poster. “Here.” She hands me another one while she picks at the edge of the Scotch tape with her fingernail. I turn it over. This one says: HERONS ARE HOMEOWNERS, TOO.

“After school, we need to put some up downtown,” she says.

“After school, I have other plans.” Thankfully, I ended up getting lunch detention instead of after-school punishment for walking out the other day, so our geocaching plans are safe. I turn to Gianna. “And you have plans, too. Right?”

Gianna nods. “But we can do both. We'll help Ruby with the posters, and then we'll all check out another cache.”

The bell rings.

“Shoot!” Gianna starts digging in her backpack. Chapstick, an empty water bottle, four colored pencils, and half a granola bar fall out. “I think my Science homework is still in my locker. I'll see you later!”

 

“Later” turns into a whole lot later when Gianna has to stay after school to redo the science homework she never found. It's almost four by the time we pass the Lakeland Public Library and turn the corner for downtown.

I see Mom's truck outside the diner. “Want to put a poster up here?”

“Sure.” Ruby pulls open the door and the pancake smell makes me wish we were here for snacks and homework instead of a publicity mission.

“Better check with Alan.” I nod to the cash register where he's pulling on his moustache frowning at the machine. Ruby and Gianna walk over, and I pull out the GPS to fiddle with while they talk.

Alan smiles when he sees the three of us. “Hey, kiddos! Here for your hot chocolate? I'm not sure there's a free booth, but—”

“We're actually hoping we could put up a poster about the Smugglers Island condo project,” Gianna says.

“Shopping for condos, are you?”

“No!” Ruby almost shouts, then tones it down. “I mean, we don't support that project. It would have a terrible impact on the great blue herons that nest there.”

Alan nods. He looks at the poster more closely. “Well, I think I might just have to stop by that meeting myself. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

“We have to get going,” I say, nudging Ruby and Gianna toward the door. Mom gives a quick wave from the counter where she's pouring coffee.

“I bet Mr. Mulcahy will let us put one at the CornerMart,” Gianna says, turning left out of the diner. I start to follow her, but the arrow on the GPS unit is pointing the other way. While we were in the diner, I called up Dad's cache called The Superhero's Lair.

“Hey, guys…” I stop and look down at the small screen in my hand. “I know we have more posters, but we're really close to The Superhero's Lair cache right now. If we go up to the store, we'll be walking the opposite way. Can we check this out first?”

“Sure. Hold still a second.” Ruby rolls up the three posters we have left and puts them in my backpack. They're sticking out the top, but it's better than carrying them. “Okay, show me how this works.”

“It's sort of like a little god,” Gianna says. “Oh great and almighty small yellow plastic device!” She takes it from me and holds it up to the sun. “Hear our wishes and point your little arrow thingy where the geocache is!” She brings it down and shows Ruby. “See? We have to go that way.”

 

Forty minutes later, we've walked up and down Bridge Street five times, and the GPS unit keeps telling us the same thing.

Out there.

Out there, as in, out on the lake.

“Maybe there's something wrong with it,” Ruby says, squinting at the screen for the fiftieth time.

“Maybe there's something wrong with him,” I say.

“Who?”

“His dad,” Gianna says. “Zig thinks his dad has been to this geocache.” She explains how I went online, how Senior Searcher convinced me that the profile belonged to Dad. The way she says it makes me a little mad. Always “Zig thinks” and “Zig believes” like she doesn't think there's any way it's true.

We start up the street back toward the diner where we came from.

The GPS unit points left. Out into the open lake water, .37 miles out, to be exact.

“I guess we're not going to get this one,” I say finally.

Gianna leans in to look at the GPS screen again. She's so close her hair tickles my neck. It smells like apples.

“Three point seven miles,” she says.

“Point three seven,” I correct her.

“Whatever. So…that's like a third of a mile that way.” She raises her pointed finger from the GPS out onto the lake, right at Smugglers Island. “Zig! The island! I bet it's on the island!”

“My aunt lives near here,” Ruby says. “She's been out there; it's only about a quarter mile offshore.”

“Only a quarter of a mile? Let's swim it.” I'm being sarcastic and rotten, but I can't help it. Every time I think I'm going to learn something about Dad, I end up with a big fat nothing.

“The water's pretty cold. We'll need wetsuits and scuba gear,” Gianna jokes.

“No.” Ruby taps her index finger against her bottom lip. “What we need is a boat.”

“Are you sure it's not too rough? These waves look big. Did you even check the weather forecast? I think we should do this another day.” Five minutes in a kayak, and I think I'm going to be seasick. Or lakesick. Whatever.

Gianna sits behind me in the back of the red double kayak while Ruby paddles next to us in the green single. We're headed out to Smuggers Island.

“It's fine.” Ruby laughs and splashes us with her paddle. “My aunt never would have let us take the boats if it was going to get rougher.”

“Besides,” Gianna says. “These are really stable.” She tips back and forth to prove it. My spaghetti from lunch flops around in my stomach.

“What's the GPS say?” Ruby calls over.

“Point-one-eight miles that way.” I point toward the island. “It must be around on the other side.”

Ruby nods. “We'll paddle around then.”

“Can't we land here and walk across?” I'm desperate to have earth under my feet.

Ruby shakes her head. “Poison ivy. The interior of the island is loaded with it.”

“I bet the smugglers planted it years and years ago,” Gianna says. “So no one would disturb their treasure chests while they were off at sea.”

“At sea? Not likely.” Ruby tries to splash Gee again but gets me instead. Freezing lake water splashes in my ear. “Besides,” Ruby says. “The smugglers this island is named after weren't smuggling gold and jewels. My aunt told me they were
running booze during the Prohibition era. She's found some old empty bottles diving off shore at her camp.”

Gianna pouts, but not like she means it. “Don't spoil the story.”

When we paddle around to the other side of the island, the wind is blocked by a peninsula. The surface barely has a ripple. It's hard to believe it's the same lake.

“Now what's it say?” Ruby waits for me to check the GPS unit. “Just forty-two yards. This way.” I point at the island, to a spot where a ten or twelve foot cliff drops right off into the water.

“We can't land there.” Ruby pulls her kayak up alongside ours. Gianna reaches out and grabs Ruby's boat so she doesn't drift away. Two seagulls sit on the very tip of the rocky peninsula, cawing at us.

“Can I see that?” Ruby takes the GPS from me and frowns at it. “It's definitely pointing at the cliff. Maybe we can land someplace else and then hike to that spot.”

“What about the poison ivy?” Gianna wrinkles her nose and the freckles on it smush together.

“Yeah, that's going to be a problem.” Ruby sighs. She shakes the GPS unit a little, like it might change its mind. The wind has picked up, even on this side of the island, and we've drifted closer to shore.

“What's it say now?” I ask.

“Here.” Ruby hands the GPS back so I can check the distance. It's still pointing at that same rocky drop-off, but this time the number is way down.

“Seventy-nine feet.” I stare at the cliffs. They look like they're about seventy-nine feet from us now. “The geocache has to be right near shore. Actually…look!” I
point to shore, my finger following the line of the GPS unit's arrow. “See how some rocks are worn away near the water line?”

“Probably from waves,” Ruby says. “Sometimes the lake is a lot higher.”

“Yeah, but look.” I paddle closer. “It's made all these little caves. I bet this is where he hid the geocache!” I grab a rock edge that leads into the biggest cave and hold us there. “A person would fit in here; it only gets narrow at the very top. And look!” I hold up the GPS unit, triumphant. “It says we're three feet from our target, and the arrow points right into this cave. How deep's the water?”

Ruby bumps into us with her kayak. She pulls a small lake chart out of the dry hatch, unrolls it, and frowns. “Over your head. And the kayaks are too wide to fit.”

Ruby rummages in the dry hatch again, pulls out a flashlight, and shines it into the darkness. But all we can see is rock. “We'll have to come back this summer when the water's lower. By the middle of July, there's even beach here, so by then it should be easier to—”

“I'm going in.” I've already tightened the straps on my life jacket. I lean down to untie my sneakers but then think better of it and leave them on.

“You're nuts,” Gianna says. “It's almost October, Zig. That water's cold.”

“It's fine. And I'll float.” I know the water's cold, but the GPS keeps pointing into that cave. It might as well be saying it out loud.
Dad … .Dad … Dad …