“Sorry,” she said. “Jet lag.”
“Of course,” Andre said. “Help yourself to the spread.”
She got coffee with milk and filled her plate. There wasn’t much conversation. Everyone looked as exhausted as she felt. She’d had trouble getting back to sleep after her run-in with Markham and her fight with Hugo. Luckily the coffee had cooled just enough that she could gulp it down.
“That’s coffee, Lucy,” Dustin said. “Not beer. You’re not supposed to chug it.”
“Long night,” she said over the top of her mug.
“Was it?” Melanie asked. “You got out early. We were up past midnight.”
“Who came in second?” she asked.
An awkward silence followed. Andre cleared his throat. “We all gave up finally.”
“Oh,” Lucy said because she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make them want to throw butter knives at her.
Dustin got up to refill his coffee off the sideboard. “Anybody else see any strange characters on the island? Men in suits?”
“I may have,” Andre said. “You?”
Melanie moved a half-eaten sausage around her plate. “Maybe.”
“Markham,” Lucy said. “I met him too. He tried to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Same, same,” Andre said, nodding. “What did you do?”
“Refused him,” she said. “I mean, the book has to be published, right?”
“Definitely,” Melanie said. Andre agreed. Dustin just shrugged.
Suddenly the doors opened again, and Jack walked in wearing a wide smile. “Good morning, kids.”
They all greeted Jack with as much enthusiasm as they could muster, which wasn’t much.
“I know, I know. Harder nights for us all. Lucy, you’ll be pleased to know we’ve secured the docks. No more late-night shark attacks.”
“Shark attacks?” Melanie asked.
“The lawyer guy came to my room in the middle of the night,” Lucy explained. “Thanks, Jack.”
“My pleasure. The only sharks I like are the ones in the ocean. That is why I tend to throw my lawyers off the pier. Anyway, let’s talk about our next game.”
Everyone sat up a little straighter, eyes bright and ready.
“Look for the king of Clock Island. Under his crown, you will find the instructions for our next game.”
“Say that again, please?” Andre asked. He had out a notebook and pencil and wrote down every word Jack said.
Look for the king of Clock Island. Under his crown, you will find the instructions for our next game.
“There are no points,” Jack said, “so feel free to work together or separately. But until you find the instructions, the next game can’t begin. Good luck.”
Jack smiled benevolently at them all, then left the dining room.
Andre exhaled heavily. “Maybe my mom was right. Maybe running away to Clock Island was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
The four decided to work together since no points were at stake. They all left the house to explore the island, looking for this mysterious king.
They started at the Welcome ashore at four sign and worked counterclockwise past Puffin Rock at Three O’Clock, the One O’Clock Picnic Spot…
They tossed out idea after idea.
The king of Clock Island?
Was Jack the king of Clock Island? He didn’t wear a crown. What were they going to do? Cut the crown of his head off?
“I could do that,” Dustin said, grinning. “Done it before.”
“Let’s maybe not cut Jack’s head off quite yet,” Andre said. “Keep your eyes out for a statue or sculpture or something.”
Suddenly Melanie stopped in the center of the path and snapped her fingers. “The King of Clock Island? It’s one of the book titles.”
“No,” Lucy said. “The full title is The Lost King of Clock Island. But…”
She remembered reading that book to Christopher the last night he stayed with her. He’d picked it out because he liked the cover. A boy king rode a black horse through a cursed forest of evil grinning trees. He wore a golden crown on his head of black hair. Black hair just like his, which was probably why he’d chosen it.
“Hugo’s paintings are all over the house,” Lucy said. “Maybe one of the cover paintings? Does anybody remember seeing a painting of a boy on a horse riding in a forest?”
Andre snapped his fingers. “End of the hall by my room. Let’s go.”
They made their way back to the house, walking faster than when they’d left. The morning was warming. Lucy was grateful. She’d felt guilty after calling Hugo a “spoiled brat” last night, so guilty she couldn’t bring herself to put on the coat he’d lent her.
But it seemed she couldn’t escape him. They got back to the house and climbed the stairs. Down one hall, then up another short set of stairs. They reached the painting hanging over an antique butler table with an ancient black Royal typewriter atop it. A piece of paper was rolled into the typewriter. The words Found me! were typed at the top.
Melanie carefully unspooled the paper from the typewriter.
On the back, it said, The next game will begin at one at two.
Andre shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “I miss the real world.”
“One O’Clock is the picnic spot,” Lucy said. “I guess we’ll meet there at two this afternoon?”
Jack stuck his head out of a door at the opposite end of the hallway.He whispered, “Yeeesssss,” in a spooky voice before disappearing again.
Well, they had their orders. Melanie, Andre, and Dustin left the hallway and went back downstairs.
“When I was a kid,” Melanie said as she walked away, “I never understood why Dorothy wanted to leave Oz and go home to Kansas. Now I get it.”
They all laughed. All of them but Lucy. She stayed behind, studying the painting, the boy on the horse fleeing the dark forest. A beautiful painting, one of Hugo’s best. No, she would have happily stayed in Oz forever. And on Clock Island too. If only she could.
* * *
—
On Clock Island, a girl with soft brown hair and a long wooden spoon fed freshly caught stars to the Man in the Moon.
These were the things that got Hugo out of bed in the morning. He liked where this painting was going—the strangeness of it, the wistfulness. Was this the cover for Jack’s new book? No way to tell, but Hugo was enjoying watching the image in his mind come to life on his canvas. It had the feel of a Remedios Varo painting. In Hugo’s opinion, it was never too soon for children to learn their ABCs and their female Spanish-Mexican surrealists.
Hugo had been up and painting for hours. At five o’clock that morning, he’d woken from a night of a thousand dreams about Davey, all demanding Hugo paint them.