we both know . . . ”
“SEAGULLS DON’T EAT PICKLES!!!”
They laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world. It happens to be true, by the way. See, seagulls will eat anything in the world except for pickles. Once when Uncle Norman was midnight fishing for stripers, he had a sandwich all wrapped up with a pickle. These seagulls landed on his boat and grabbed the whole thing. They gobbled up his turkey club—even the paper it was wrapped in. But they tossed the pickle right back.
Seconds later, I felt the blankets being yanked off. The sunlight was blinding. I had to blink a few times before I could see anything.
“Aha! It’s the pickle thieves,” said Uncle Norman. His lips were curling up like they wanted to smile. My dad had a big frown on his face.
“Hi, Dad,” I said.
“And just what are you doing here?” My dad got right to the point.
“Well, you see, Mr. Finelli and Mr. Finelli . . . ” Roger began.
“We just wanted to go for a . . . a . . . boat ride,” I said before Roger could spill the beans about the treasure.
My father and Uncle Norman looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.
“Mr. Finelli, here’s the rest of your pickle.” Roger yanked it out of my hand and gave it to my dad.
My dad took a bite. “Since we don’t have time to take you boys back, it looks like you’re going to have to come with us.”
I gave Roger the thumbs-up behind my back.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “We didn’t mean to be sneaky.”
“Don’t thank me,” said my dad. “Uncle Norman and I should be thanking you.”
Roger and I looked at each other.
“This is a big emergency, and we couldn’t be happier to have two assistants to do the dirty work.”
My dad winked at Uncle Norman.
“Dirty work?” repeated Roger.
He gave me the stink eye—you know, he bugged out his eyes and kind of closed one like he was going to wink. Then he scrunched up his nose and frowned, all at the same time.
“You’ll see,” said my dad. “Nothing like having some extra hands to help with the mess. Right, Fish?”
Plumbers, Ahoy!
"Wait over there!” My dad pointed.
Roger and I carried mops, buckets, and toolboxes to the side porch.
“Whoa!” Roger looked around.
“Uh-huh!” I said.
The Lioness’s backyard was huge. There were gardens everywhere with all kinds of flowers. There was a pond filled with koi, those fat orange fish that look like supersized goldfish, but they’re really carp. An orchestra was playing. Waiters in uniforms walked around with trays of food and drinks. There were people dressed up in fancy clothes. In the very center was a giant ice sculpture.
“Boy, I sure wish I could take a chunk of ice off that eagle,” said Roger. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes.
OSPREYS
Also called sea hawks, ospreys are raptors that eat mostly fish. They are up to 2 feet tall, with a wingspan of up to 6 feet.
“It’s not an eagle,” I said. “It’s an osprey, also called a sea hawk.They’re endangered, and Lyons Island has the largest population of—”
“You know who’s endangered?” Roger interrupted. “Me! I’m about to faint from hunger and thirst.”
A waiter passed by with a tray of tiny hot dogs. My stomach rumbled.
“Pigs in blankets are the best!” said Roger. “I could eat the whole tray.”
My mouth watered.
“Excuse me!” Roger called out to the waiter.
“Roger!” I elbowed him.
“What? I’m hungry.”
The waiter turned. Just then I saw the last person in the world I wanted to see.
“Yo-ho-ho, find the treasure yet?” asked Bryce. “I swear, that will be the easiest fifty bucks I ever make.” He sauntered up to us with a nasty grin on his face. He was wearing his mirrored sunglasses and he was all dressed up in a white shirt and white pants. He snagged a pig in a blanket off the tray.
I glared at him.
“Gonna look for the treasure down the sewer?” Bryce pointed to the mops and plumbing supplies. “That’s where you belong, with
“SEAGULLS DON’T EAT PICKLES!!!”
They laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world. It happens to be true, by the way. See, seagulls will eat anything in the world except for pickles. Once when Uncle Norman was midnight fishing for stripers, he had a sandwich all wrapped up with a pickle. These seagulls landed on his boat and grabbed the whole thing. They gobbled up his turkey club—even the paper it was wrapped in. But they tossed the pickle right back.
Seconds later, I felt the blankets being yanked off. The sunlight was blinding. I had to blink a few times before I could see anything.
“Aha! It’s the pickle thieves,” said Uncle Norman. His lips were curling up like they wanted to smile. My dad had a big frown on his face.
“Hi, Dad,” I said.
“And just what are you doing here?” My dad got right to the point.
“Well, you see, Mr. Finelli and Mr. Finelli . . . ” Roger began.
“We just wanted to go for a . . . a . . . boat ride,” I said before Roger could spill the beans about the treasure.
My father and Uncle Norman looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.
“Mr. Finelli, here’s the rest of your pickle.” Roger yanked it out of my hand and gave it to my dad.
My dad took a bite. “Since we don’t have time to take you boys back, it looks like you’re going to have to come with us.”
I gave Roger the thumbs-up behind my back.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “We didn’t mean to be sneaky.”
“Don’t thank me,” said my dad. “Uncle Norman and I should be thanking you.”
Roger and I looked at each other.
“This is a big emergency, and we couldn’t be happier to have two assistants to do the dirty work.”
My dad winked at Uncle Norman.
“Dirty work?” repeated Roger.
He gave me the stink eye—you know, he bugged out his eyes and kind of closed one like he was going to wink. Then he scrunched up his nose and frowned, all at the same time.
“You’ll see,” said my dad. “Nothing like having some extra hands to help with the mess. Right, Fish?”
Plumbers, Ahoy!
"Wait over there!” My dad pointed.
Roger and I carried mops, buckets, and toolboxes to the side porch.
“Whoa!” Roger looked around.
“Uh-huh!” I said.
The Lioness’s backyard was huge. There were gardens everywhere with all kinds of flowers. There was a pond filled with koi, those fat orange fish that look like supersized goldfish, but they’re really carp. An orchestra was playing. Waiters in uniforms walked around with trays of food and drinks. There were people dressed up in fancy clothes. In the very center was a giant ice sculpture.
“Boy, I sure wish I could take a chunk of ice off that eagle,” said Roger. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes.
OSPREYS
Also called sea hawks, ospreys are raptors that eat mostly fish. They are up to 2 feet tall, with a wingspan of up to 6 feet.
“It’s not an eagle,” I said. “It’s an osprey, also called a sea hawk.They’re endangered, and Lyons Island has the largest population of—”
“You know who’s endangered?” Roger interrupted. “Me! I’m about to faint from hunger and thirst.”
A waiter passed by with a tray of tiny hot dogs. My stomach rumbled.
“Pigs in blankets are the best!” said Roger. “I could eat the whole tray.”
My mouth watered.
“Excuse me!” Roger called out to the waiter.
“Roger!” I elbowed him.
“What? I’m hungry.”
The waiter turned. Just then I saw the last person in the world I wanted to see.
“Yo-ho-ho, find the treasure yet?” asked Bryce. “I swear, that will be the easiest fifty bucks I ever make.” He sauntered up to us with a nasty grin on his face. He was wearing his mirrored sunglasses and he was all dressed up in a white shirt and white pants. He snagged a pig in a blanket off the tray.
I glared at him.
“Gonna look for the treasure down the sewer?” Bryce pointed to the mops and plumbing supplies. “That’s where you belong, with
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