Summer of Lost and Found (14 page)

I looked closer at it. Even though it was worn away by age and salt water, there was a pattern, and I could see a shape that looked like a shield. “I think so.”

“That's a crest that my family has used for ages. Since the time of the colonies, and earlier! That ring
has
to belong to a Viccars.” Ambrose pulled his hands away from the glass and held them out to me. On his left hand was a signet ring that looked almost identical, except his was shiny and unscuffed. “You see? I'm telling the truth. And I need that one back.”

“That's incredible!” I took a step closer to inspect the ring on his pale hand. “I'm sure if you explain this to the people who work here, they'll look into it. Mr. Midgett could help—”

“No!” Ambrose practically shouted, and I startled. He began sniffling, even though he tried to hide it. I hated seeing him like that. Quieter, he said, “It's better if we simply take back what's rightfully mine.”

My mouth dropped open. “Um, Ambrose, that's
stealing
.” I shook my head. “That's not the way to deal with this.”

“Nell, trust me,” he begged. “That ring belongs to me, and I
must
have it. Pray, please help me.” I couldn't turn away from his pleading eyes. “Look, I promise—we'll show it to my mother. If she tells me I'm wrong, we'll return it immediately.” Then, quieter still, “But I know I could never be wrong about this. I swear on my father's life.”

I shuddered. “You shouldn't say things like that.”

“I'm desperate,” he said. “Please.”

Ambrose missed his dad, just like I did. If I came across some kind of family heirloom—in my dad's case, it would probably be vintage 1980s toys, based on the contents of his “heirloom” boxes in our storage bin—I would probably go nuts trying to recover it too. I swallowed hard and, against my better judgment, scanned the room, looking for security cameras. I saw one, pointing the other way from where we were standing. Lila's dad still hadn't come back from his office. There was nobody else around. “Maybe we should come back to get it,” I suggested. “Wearing disguises or something. People have already seen us here today. If it goes missing, they'll know who to blame.”

Ambrose ignored that, studying the glass case. “Hmm. How might we open this?”

I stared at the tiny silver lock pressed in the slightest gap between two thick pieces of glass.
I can't believe I'm even considering this.
But if the ring honestly did belong to Ambrose's family, wasn't it right to let him take it back? Mom has talked about the long process her museum goes through when groups contest keeping something on display. It can take
years
before stuff gets returned, if ever. Ambrose did say that if he was wrong, he'd return it immediately.

I took another look at the lock, and then I remembered Mr. Cohen's wrinkled face. “I have an idea.” I rifled around my messenger bag for something slim, like a bobby pin. I never use bobby pins in my hair, but Jade's always needing them to deal with her bangs, which are in a constant state of growing in or growing out. She spends so much time fretting about them that I don't understand why she cuts them in the first place. My fingertips grazed a familiar metal stick at the bottom of my bag. “Perfect,” I said, pulling it out. Luckily for Ambrose and me, I'm Jade's bobby-pin packhorse.

“I'm afraid I don't follow,” Ambrose said. “A . . . hairpin?”

I rolled it between my thumb and index finger. “You can use them to pick a lock.” I bent closer to the glass case. “I've never actually gotten a bobby pin to work for that before, but I've had a lot of practice trying.” I pictured Mr. Cohen's shaky hands twisting a pin just so into the lock on a wooden box, and popping it open. I'd tried it after him and failed.
Listen for the clicks, Nell
, he'd said.
You can feel them depress on the way to unlocking it.

As Ambrose watched, I put my head right up next to the lock, so close my ear almost suctioned to the glass. My hand trembled, either from too much concentration or from nerves. “I think . . .” I paused, straining to see if I could hear any clicks from inside the lock. I did hear something, faintly.
Click.
“I think I've
almost
got it.”

“Got what?” The voice had a slight accent. But it wasn't a boy's. Meaning: It was not Ambrose.

We're caught.

I dropped the bobby pin on the surface as I jolted upright. The pin somehow managed to slide directly into the crack between the panes of glass, then through them, and finally bounce off the ring to land inside the case.

Slowly I turned to look at my witness. Although I was pretty sure I knew who it was. Because even though the person asked me a question, the tone was that of someone who knew it all.

Lila, red-faced and hands on her hips, stood in the doorway. Sir Walter Raleigh was next to her, leaning against her left leg. Panting with a huge, eager dog smile.

Oh, scat. Times one thousand.

My face flushed, and I felt the beginnings of sweat trickles running down my back and forming along the edge of my forehead. I turned to Ambrose, thinking he could talk us out of this. It had been his idea and his insistence, anyway, that got us into this catastrophic mess.

Or got
me
into this mess, because Ambrose was gone. Somehow, in between me putting my head down on the exhibition case and Lila coming in to catch me, he'd fled the room entirely. Maybe he'd heard or seen her coming.
But why didn't he warn me?
I let out a deep, shaky breath.

“Aren't you even going to try to explain yourself?” Lila asked, smirking now that she knew I was caught. Sir Walter continued to pant and smile, and even tried to lumber over to me for some attention. But Lila held firm to his collar, keeping him back.

“I—I know this looks bad,” I stammered. “But I wasn't doing this for me. There's an item in there that belongs to my friend. Ambrose. He really needs it back.” I glanced around the room, wondering how he'd managed to get away. There was only one entrance, and Lila was standing in front of it.
How could he desert me like this? What kind of friend is he?
I wanted to find Ambrose and throttle him.

“Sure,” Lila said, sarcasm dripping off her words. “Your
friend
made you do this. ‘Ambrose,' ” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers.

“He'll explain it to you.” I moved to walk past her, betting that once outside I'd find Ambrose cowering somewhere behind the visitor center, or crouched in the reconstructed fort.

“Whoa, whoa—hold up. You can't just walk out of here after trying to pick a lock.” Lila crossed her arms and blocked me like a bouncer. Sir Walter lazily followed her. Then he plunked down on his favorite spot, the tops of my feet, like he was about to take a nap. Lila ignored him. “What artifact were you going to snatch? Because even if you aren't lying about your friend, I can assure you that everything in these cases is an archaeological object. Nobody ‘misplaced' anything in here.” She pointed to the case. “What's the real reason you wanted it? Does it have to do with your clue? Or are you just a
thief
?”

But Lila already knew what I'd found, right? She'd taken the flask out of my room. Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. “Speaking of thieves—you have my clue, and I want it back.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Don't try to change the subject.”

“You took it!” I spat back at her. “You took it after you went to the bathroom at my house! I know you did.”

Lila gasped. “I did no such thing, and I will not be accused of theft, especially by an attempted thief!”

“Girls? Is everything okay in here?” Lila's dad appeared in the doorway.

Lila put on a fake grin. “Everything's fine, Dad.” She actually threw her arm around my shoulders roughly, in an awkward half hug.

He walked over to us. “I thought I heard yelling,” he said, scratching his head.

“
Play along,
” Lila hissed in my ear.

“Not yelling,” I answered, gritting my teeth thanks to Lila's death grip on me. “Debating, maybe.”

“Yeah! Nell was telling me how the Natural History Museum writes the curator's notes and it's pretty different from the placards you guys make.”

“Really,” he said. I don't think he believed her. “I was beginning to think it was foolish of me to mention on the phone that Nell was here, if you two are just going to argue.”

Lila flinched.
Aha.
She'd been tipped off to my being here. I'd wondered how she'd wound up in the visitor center at the same time as us. “Whatever, Dad. We're going outside.”

“Take Sir Walter with you, Lila. He's really not supposed to be in here, remember?” He turned to me. “No dogs allowed.”

Lila yanked me toward the door with one hand, urging Sir Walter up off the floor with the other.

“Nell, come back anytime,” her dad said as we hustled out the door. “Same to your friend.”

“Thanks, Mr. Midgett!” I smiled halfheartedly, flush with guilt that I'd been trying to lift something from his museum. If he knew that, he sure wouldn't be telling me to come back whenever.

Lila led me to a bench across from the grassy reconstructed fort. Sir Walter bounded toward it and then stopped, tensing up. He hunched and growled, which I'd never seen him do. After a few seconds, he actually started barking.

“Sir Walter! Stop it!” Lila pulled him back to us. “Stop.
It.
” He quit barking, but wouldn't let his guard down. He probably saw a squirrel or something.

“Why didn't you rat me out if what I was doing was so heinous?” I asked.

“Because now you owe me something. To pay me back for not telling on you, you can tell me what you know.
And
help me with a ghost hunt, as my assistant.”

I shook my head. “That's blackmail. Plus, I don't have anything to share with you, because you already took it.”

Lila stomped her foot like a kid having a tantrum. “No. I. Didn't,” she said, her voice rising with exasperation. “I have no idea what you're talking about, and I haven't stolen a thing.”

What a committed liar.
I wasn't going to give up anything else. I shrugged and shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts. I traced a shape into the dirt with my toe, a circle kind of like the signet ring.

Lila sighed. “You're forcing me to go this route. If you don't want me to turn you in—and that bobby pin in the case is proof, you know—then stop looking for the lost colony. Don't snoop around my island anymore. If I find you back here or anywhere else but the ice-cream store, and you're looking for clues, then I'm going to tell my dad what you were doing. I'll tell your mom, too.”

My mom would kill me if she knew that I'd done something wrong in a museum, of all places. Seriously: That would be a grounded-for-life event, with a Mrs.-Kim-will-homeschool-you-and-you'll-never-leave-the-apartment-not-even-for-the-dentist's-office sentence.

“Fine.” Which I didn't mean at all—Lila was not going to stop me from doing anything. Nor would she stop Ambrose. A flash of anger hit as I remembered how he bailed on me. Where was Ambrose, anyway? There was no sign of him by the fort or outside the visitor center. Did he run home? Escape to the Waterside Theatre, where he apparently performed? Or was he what Sir Walter had been barking at in the woods? Either way, my blood boiled. If he was still hiding out around here, he should come out and help me. If he'd fled, he was a selfish coward. I didn't know if he'd be in shape to search for any Roanoke clues after I was done with him, whenever I found him.

“I'm going home now,” I announced. “By the way, this is my family's home too. Because I
am
related to the first Dares
ever here
. So much for this being your island!” I turned and stalked away from Lila, sputtering on the bench with a still-snarling Sir Walter next to her. “For all you know, those artifacts could be my inheritance!”

“I don't care!” she finally called after me. “Roanoke is my territory. I'll be watching you!”

Any lingering questions about why Lila didn't have a ton of friends had been answered. She was a competitive tattletale. A know-it-all nark. I swore I could still hear her
harrumph
ing from the parking lot.

I didn't bother to look for Ambrose on my way out. I didn't care where he was; I didn't want to see his wide, crooked smile. It stung that he'd left me to get caught. I'd considered him a friend, and I'd thought he felt the same about me. Maybe I was wrong. A friend had never treated me like this before. Even when, in third grade, Jade and I borrowed some of her mom's jewelry and got caught wearing it home from school, we stuck together. Same thing when we broke my parents' rule about walking to the east side without telling them, and my dad happened to be walking the opposite direction from a reading at the library on East Seventy-Ninth. It's not like when Jade saw him before I did, she ran off into the park and left me alone to get scolded. Because, obviously, true friends don't do that.
Can we talk tonight?
I texted her.
You won't believe what happened today.

I hopped on my bike, happy to be leaving the fort. The canopy of trees offered welcome shade, but I shivered in the gloom. This was not how I expected today to go: Ambrose abandoning me, Lila catching me and then blackmailing me. Is it blackmail if you
were
doing something wrong? In any case, it was enough to make me want to close my eyes, click my heels, and find myself back on a New York City subway, heading home to my apartment and my real friend Jade. And hopefully my dad, too.