“So you and Alice were in Girl Scouts together?”
I nodded. “She was obsessed with dogs even back then. And her friend was obsessed with horses. They called themselves Pooch and Neigh.”
“Oh my gosh. That’s so cute. And what about Gordie? What’s his story?”
“He’s like Mr. Everything—musical, academic, he’s really good at sailing. He always hung out with this kid Reid until Reid started dating a girl in our class. She’s one of the catty assholes.”
“Gadflies, right?” she said.
“Yup. Gadflies.”
“He’s cute,” Val said.
“Gordie?”
“Yeah.”
He was definitely cute. I had to give him that.
Alice parked her Subaru Outback next to Val’s tiny blue car, jumped out, and hoisted her satchel over her shoulder. She was wearing the same long, flowery skirt as the day before, now paired with a turquoise tank top.
“You showed up,” she said, sitting down on the grass next to me.
“Of course we showed up,” Val said.
“What about the boys?”
“Who knows?” I said. “Gordie Harris is notoriously late.”
“Soooo, did anyone see fireworks last night?” Alice rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone.
“No,” Val said. I told them about my block party and the unimpressive but loud bootlegged fireworks display.
“I had hoped to go see good ones with my best friend, but she ditched me, so I ended up playing Pictionary with my parents and my eight-year-old neighbor,” Alice said.
“Why’d she ditch you?” It was strange looking at Alice. She still looked like Pooch from Girl Scouts, except that she had an angular, more grown-up face.
Alice played with her silver rings. “Well, Izzy has sort of gone heroin chic on me.”
“As in fashion?” Val said.
“As in heroin. She’s been doing heroin pretty much every day, and it’s getting worse. There’s not a lot of quality friend time going on.”
“Oh my God. That sucks, Alice,” I said. I had a vivid memory of baby-faced Izzy playing tug-of-war in her riding boots and braids at one of our jamborees. I couldn’t believe she was doing heroin.
“Yes, yes it does.”
A black Range Rover pulled into the parking lot and Gordie Harris jumped out, late as usual.
“Is that your car?” Alice said. “Sweet.”
“Yeah. Don’t judge,” Gordie said, wiping something off his khaki shorts. His tan looked even tanner in a white polo shirt.
“I’m stuck driving my parents’ old Subaru,” Alice said.
“I have to beg my mother for her Prius,” I said.
“I have to beg my mother for her ninety-three Civic,” Val said, laughing.
“Somebody text Jean,” Alice said. “We need all the homegrown heroes here.”
Val texted Jean while Gordie threw a crumpled half-assed origami crane on my lap. “Here. I got the origami crane memo.” He smirked at me.
“What’s the origami crane memo?” Val said.
“Sadie’s friends organized an origami crane project after the farm stand Hamptons Hero thing.”
“Wow. It’s nerdsville over in your town, huh?” Alice said.
“Jean says he’s already here. Near the bridge,” Val said, craning her neck toward the forested area.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Gordie, help me up.”
Gordie reached over and grabbed my hand.
“Ow. Don’t yank me.” My back still ached from the incident. I let go of Gordie’s hand and stuffed his origami crane into my pocket. We followed Alice to the path on the edge of the grassy hill and found Jean in the forest, which was thick with insect sounds. The sun was just beginning to set, and pops of fireflies dotted the humid air.
“Hey, heroes,” Jean said, sketching furiously in a red leatherbound sketch pad. “The sunlight here is perfection.”
The four of us leaned over the wooden bridge and watched the swollen stream flow over smooth stones.
“Are you going to show us when you’re finished?” Alice said.
“I’m finished.” He held up the pencil sketch of a tree bending over the stream.
“That is amazing,” I said. “Like professional level.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He stood up and wiped his hands on his faded jeans. “So what’s the plan? What do do-gooders do for fun?”
We sat on the edge of the bridge, five people who barely knew one another, kicking our legs and trying to think of something to do.
I couldn’t stop obsessing about Mr. Upton’s suitcase.
“So, can I ask you guys a favor?” I didn’t tell them about the promise to redeem the lizard’s bad deeds. I just told them Mr. Upton wanted me to have his suitcase, and I needed help prying it out of a creepy shed.
They followed me in a caravan of mismatched vehicles, all the way up the bumpy driveway of the Upton manor. The whole ride there I thought about Izzy and our Girl Scout days. My heart ached for her and Alice.
It was dark by the time we reached the shed.
“This place is huge,” Val said.
“You should see the view. It’s all ocean.” I pulled the door open and we shined our phone lights into the cluttered space. It stank of mothballs and decay.
“What the hell was that?” Jean jumped back.
“What?” we all said.
“It sounds like a creature’s nesting in there, like an owl or something.”
“So?” Alice said.
“Okay, I hate birds. They scare the shit out of me. That’s why I was in the woods earlier, safely away from those predatory ducks.”
“Is he serious right now?” I said to Val.
“We go to school together; I don’t know him intimately,” she said. “Jean, get it together.”
It took a lot of effort to assure Jean there were no owls hiding in the shed. But then, literally everything in the shed creeped us out. Gordie held up a faceless porcelain cat. Jean pointed out a box of freakish Civil War soldier dolls.
“Old men are obsessed with Civil War stuff,” Alice said. She picked up a bearded doll in a blue uniform and dangled it in Gordie’s face. “Hello, little boy. Would you like some sassafras?”
“That’s Ulysses S. Grant,” Gordie said, laughing. “In case you were wondering.”
It was a struggle to dislodge the suitcase. But we did it. And we dragged it out to the driveway. When we finally accepted it wouldn’t fit into the back of the Prius with Dad’s golf clubs and Mom’s fabric samples, we opened the back of Gordie’s Range Rover.
“What the hell, Gordie? Are you a hoarder?” I said. His car was full of crap.
“No. I’m well prepared.” He grabbed the suitcase’s handle. “Clearly we don’t have space back here. Here, help me get it into the backseat.”
“I want to open it,” Jean said. “Why are we waiting?”
I reached into both shorts pockets and felt only the crumpled origami crane. “And… I don’t even have the key. It’s still in my jewelry box.”
We squeezed the suitcase on top of a blanket in the backseat of Gordie’s car and decided we’d just leave it there until the next night to avoid explaining the entire situation to my parents and Mr. Ng.
“I want ice cream,” Val said.
“Good call,” I said, wiping a cobweb off my face. “Let’s go to Carvel.”