Book Scavenger by Jennifer Chambliss Bertman

grandmother shout something over the oil and fan.
    James’s mom held her palms up and shrugged, like she was saying, “What can you do?” and ducked back into the kitchen.
    It was a little overwhelming how different James’s apartment felt from Emily’s, which was nearly identical in layout but nothing else. The Cranes’ rentals were always furnished with the basics, and that was it. Stark and bland. James’s apartment was layered with objects and smells and noises. There were rugs and couches and decorative pillows. Tables with fabric draped over them, and then frames and trinkets on top of the fabric. Real plants that you had to take care of. The walls were painted colors, not rental white, and covered with art, photographs, and a collection of paper fans. Some things looked brand-new, like the flat-screen TV, and some things looked like they belonged in a museum. James had said his family had been living in this building for generations, and you could feel it.
    James’s room was no different from the rest of the house. Filled to the brim. Blue walls covered with superhero and comic book posters, a solar system slowly revolved from the ceiling, a stuffed boa constrictor stretched across the foot of his bed. Multiple bookshelves with not just books but collections. Neat and orderly LEGO models, toy monsters, a tower of board games, sand dollars. Emily and Matthew were limited to one suitcase of “nonessentials” and one suitcase of books. Emily couldn’t even calculate how many suitcases it would take for all of James’s things.
    James pushed back a curtain concealing a closet filled with a desk and computers.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding me,” Emily said.
    â€œI never kid about computers.” James patted each one on top like obedient puppies. “One computer for schoolwork and regular stuff, one for video games, and the third—I built this one.”
    â€œYou built a computer?”
    â€œIt’s not really a big deal,” James said with a shrug. “So how do we see if that Gold-Bug book is part of the Book Scavenger game?”
    They went to the Book Scavenger website, and Emily clicked on “Embarcadero BART station.” There were no books listed under Hidden. She did a search for The Gold-Bug , but nothing turned up in the results.
    â€œMaybe somebody really did throw it away and missed the trash can,” James said.
    â€œWho would throw this away?” Emily asked. The book was entirely too special-looking: a hardback bound in linen cloth the color of a pomegranate, a gold beetle embossed on the front with flecks that sparkled when you tilted the book. It opened stiffly, as if she was the first to do so. Nobody would dump a book like this.
    Emily flipped to the copyright page. The only thing on it was a small drawing of a black bird in front of a bridge and ocean waves, and a short string of numbers. The drawing gave her an itchy-brain feeling, like she’d dreamed about finding this book or had seen that symbol before.
    Maybe someone hid it so recently he or she hadn’t had time to register it online, or maybe he or she even forgot. She clicked on the forum and posted a message.
    She typed: “I found a copy of THE GOLD-BUG by Edgar Allan Poe in a San Francisco BART station. Did anyone hide it and forget to register it? Please, pretty please, say yes because I need the points.” She didn’t really need the points, but she was only fifteen points away from advancing from Miss Marple level to Auguste Dupin, and she’d been counting on getting those two points by finding the Tom Sawyer book today.
    After posting her message to the forum, Emily gave James a tour of the Book Scavenger site, updating her profile information so it listed San Francisco as her city and Booker Middle School for “school/work.”
    â€œWhat about that card you found?” James said. “At the Ferry Building? What did