Maybe just oneteeny, tiny thing.
When I was nine years old, a navy flight demonstration squadron came to town to perform some fancy flying at a public coast guard ceremony at the harbor. Three blue-and-yellow jets soared over our lighthouse to the delight of the crowds that had gathered to listen to a symphony performance in honor of several coast guard members—which included Seb’s father—receiving service medals. During the air show, when one of the jets was demonstrating a roll, its engine cut out. At first, like everyone else, I thought this was part of the staged show. But the nosediving jet spiraled downward, falling faster and faster toward the harbor. Toward all of us watching. I was standing next to my nana, who shielded her eyes with her hand, looking up. When she gasped and covered her mouth in shock, I suddenly realized that the jet was in trouble.
In that dizzying moment, with the silent jet spiraling toward us, I’d never felt so small. Nothing I could do would stop the jetfrom falling. Nothing Nana could do. My world was about to end, and I was powerless.
At the last second, the jet’s engine roared to life, and the pilot pulled up the nose. The crowd cheered. Everything was fine. Everything was good.
But those moments before? That head-rushing, dazed feeling of smallness?
I was experiencing that again, right now, watching Seb lounging in the patio chair next to mine, laughing like a maniac with Jazmine over something that I hadn’t heard because all the blood had rushed to my head and I couldn’t think straight.
There he was, my old friend, with his wavy blond mane and sun-kissed arms. With all that chaotic energy and charmed, buoyant attitude.
He’s low-key obsessed with you.
True or not, I couldn’t purge Jazmine’s words from my thoughts. When Seb’s eyes jumped to mine, even for a second, everything inside me went haywire, and I couldn’t think straight.
Seb was the spiraling jet falling out of the sky, about to destroy my world, and I could do nothing to stop it.
Truth be told, I think Iwantedhim to crash into me.
It made no sense, but there it was. I could admit it to myself now, I supposed. But it didn’t make me feel better because I was still wrestling with guilt over Jazmine’s state of mind—I needed to be sure she was okay. I also knew if a jet named Seb everdidcome crashing down, there was nothing I could do but watch my life explode into flames.
“Earth to Paige.”
I blinked away those thoughts and looked at my friends. “What? Sorry, I missed that.”
Jazmine’s brow lifted, and she cleared her throat. “Isaid, do you have theories about the gold locket and those photos of Wyrd Jack and Mabel inside it?”
I stared at both of them blankly.They’re discussing the treasure hunt?Jesus, how long had I been daydreaming? I had to pull myself together and focus, stat.
“I don’t have any theories yet,” I admitted.
“What about the Black Book?” Seb suggested. “Is it still in the cottage?”
The Black Book was my nana’s ancient photo album. A real one, the cover bound in black silk. It was filled with old photos that went back several generations. There were even a handful of Wyrd Jack—original versions of several prints that now hung in the harbor museum.
“Can’t remember anything quite like the ones in the locket,” I said. “I haven’t looked through it in years, though. Worth a try, I suppose.”
They both nodded at me, and it felt as if something hung in the air between the three of us. Maybe some of it was just the drama of the evening, but a little drama never stopped the Wags from hunting treasure. Besides, Jazmine had said that she needed the gang.
“Hey,” I said. “You guys can come over to the cottage and help me look, if you’re up to it.”
Seb’s brows lifted. “Sure, I’m game. Jaz?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “I’d like that.”
“Should we text Benny?” Seb asked, shooting us both a questioning look.
“Is there any way you can convince him to come alone? No offense, but I can’t deal with Lulu again tonight,” I told them.
“We’ll call Benny if we find anything,” Seb suggested. “Let’s go.”
I stood up from my patio chair. “I only have one request. There’s a cold sausage roll stinking up my car right now, and I’d rather eat my own shoe than touch it at this point. Can we raid your fridge, Jaz?”
“Seconded,” Seb said, opening the balcony door. “I haven’t had dinner, and now I’m sort of regretting turning down your mom’s offer for leftovers when I walked in.”
“Same,” I said, and he gave me a soft smile that turned all my insides to exploding confetti as he headed inside the house.
