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"plain ol' Jane told a story about a man who was too afraid to fly, so he never did land."
THAT NIGHT, THE SIX KIDS GATHERED around a campfire like ants around a sugary or sticky substance. Tightly glued together, mostly in silence.
As Pope was out on the last log in the campfire to keep it burning, he sat down on a log. “Hey guys, so, my dad’s already gonna kill me, so what’s this mandatory meeting about?” Pope was clearly losing his patience with the silence between the teens.
JJ pointed gun fingers to himself, looking over at John B, seated comforrable next to his sister, already half asleep with her head on the boy’s shoulder, “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.” JJ voiced.
John B sat up, “You ready for this?”
“Yeah.”
“So, the gold never went down with the merchant-”
“Here we go again.” Pope sighed, convinced that even giving in a shot was a no-go. From what Red could tell, he was done risking his relationship with his dad and school to look for a treasure they don’t know existed.
“No, hear him out.” JJ shook his head.
“It’s been here the whole time.” John B continued, Red perked up, suddenly more interested.
Red motioned with her hands for him to keep going, “Go on.”
“It’s here. On the Island.” John B stated, flustered by it himself.
“Are you serious?” Asked Kie, a mixture of confused and starstruck.
Pope raised his hand, “I’d like to voice my septicemic.”
John B pushed himself off the tree truck where he and Bennie were sitting, “I’m sure you’d love to, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”
