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"POPE, WE'RE NOT STEALING THE DRONE." John B sighed from his spot in the driver's seat of the Twinkie. "We're borrowing it."
It was bullshit and they all knew it. It wasn't like they were planning on giving it back; that wasn't even a card in the deck for Pogues. No, they were fully committing theft, and there was no way to sweet talk around it - despite John B's futile attempts.
After sneaking out of the Island Club, the five teenagers all boarded the Twinkie, making their way towards the junkyard that resided on the Cut. Pope had continued to be adamant in his disagreement with their plan, while the others simply brushed him off. Blue had to admit that their scheme was not perfect, and there was a small margin for error, but she also knew there was nothing better they could do. This was their one shot at finding the Royal Merchant, so she decided to just see it through.
"Humans are the only animal that can't tell fantasy from reality." Pope said, looking out the window as he spoke.
Blue scrunched her brows at the words, wondering if they came straight from Pope's mind or one of his textbooks. "Wait, did you come up with that?" She asked.
He shook his head. "No, Albert Bernstein came up with that, but it applies to this whole treasure-hunting thing."
A frown appeared on the girl's face as she registered his response. She had thought that they were all on board - that they all believed it could be real. Wasn't that why they were planning what to do with their shares and sneaking into country clubs to map out coordinates? Didn't they think there was a chance?
Sure, Blue knew it was a long shot. Even if her father had found the wreck of the Merchant, the gold was not a guarantee. People had been looking for those riches for centuries, and there was a chance it had already been found, or maybe it never even existed in the first place. And she was sure that if her father had not been involved, she would have laughed off the possibility of a treasure hunt.
