Chapter Seven
Cam’s jolt of popularity at the start of junior year used to be a total mystery to me.
How could someone be a total loner for so long, I wondered, and then suddenly get star treatment? But the more time went on, the more I realized what other people saw in him.
Cam is the type of person who reminds you of a hero.
Not a beefy superman hero. But like a Frodo Baggins–type hero.
The underdog with the golden heart, who fights for things because he’s determined and passionate.
Who doesn’t want to root for a person like that?
Who doesn’t hope he gets every last thing he’s after?
But here’s the thing about passion: Passion only makes sense when you actually understand what it is you’re fighting for.
That’s why I put on National Treasure at the start of our treasure hunt.
In the movie, Benjamin Franklin Gates is passionate about the hidden American treasure because he basically has a PhD in American history.
Gates’s passion rests on a foundation of knowledge. Knowledge is the real key.
I had to show Cam the movie first thing, before we took even one step forward as actual treasure hunters.
Because it’s important to see what a good treasure hunter looks like.
Especially when Ben is compared to the movie’s antagonist—Ian—who’s essentially a British dumbbell only in the hunt for the money.
Of course, Cam didn’t get the contrast at all.
“What a messed-up ending,” he said as the fancy script end credits rolled.
I turned to him, shocked. “You think Ben and Riley should have taken a bigger cut of the treasure?”
“The other guy shouldn’t have gone to jail!” Cam splayed his hands open. “The dude with the accent—”
“Ian,” I supplied.
“Ian, whatever, he was the one who helped the main guy—”
“Ben.”
“Right. He helped Ben get that first clue. Ben never would have gotten to the Declaration of Independence or seen the map if it weren’t for Ian, and he just, what? Sends Ian to prison? And then buys some fancy house with his treasure money and lives happily ever after?”
“You’re missing the entire point,” I said. “Ben and Ian were working together, until Ben realized that Ian didn’t actually care about American history at all. He just wanted the treasure.”
Cam gave me the side-eye. “Um, they both definitely just wanted the treasure.”
We stared each other down for a few moments, until it became clear that neither of us would give. Cam bounced off the bed and sat at my desk.
“Come on, no more movies. Let’s get to the good stuff,” he yelled out.
“You mean the treasure,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
That’s when my suspicions started. Cam may have been the one to find the treasure book.
It might have been sitting in his uncle’s old trunk.
But when push came to shove…Cam didn’t really care about gay history at all.
That had to be why he brought the hunt to me in the first place.
I would play the part of the history nerd, and only once I found all the answers would Cam come swooping in, shovel in hand.
Such an Ian move.
“You need to ask him,” Sunny says.
I shake my head and look at her. “Sorry, what?”
Sunny pokes the manila file in my arms. “You need to talk to Cam.”
I groan and roll my head back. We’re standing outside of Bolerium Books, triumphantly holding a scroll from the Library of Alexandria. Well, it may as well be an ancient scroll, considering the salesperson inside told us this was probably the last intact flyer from Harvey’s 1979 birthday.
That wasn’t the case back in the early 1980s, of course.
Like Mr. Wong said, the Castro neighborhood and surrounding areas used to be plastered with this same flyer.
Its ties with the White Night riots made it a symbol of the gay rights movement.
No wonder Gilbert Baker decided to use it as a clue in his chapter on Harvey.
The downside of our trip to Bolerium is what I’m not holding.
Julia slumps outside the doors. “I can’t believe they don’t have a single record of Gay Treasures. They have everything! The book had to have come through their store at some point!”
“Except, obviously, it didn’t,” Gabriel says, shuffling after her. He nods toward the flyer. “If Ivy’s right and this is a cipher key, that means it’s completely useless without the actual puzzles left in the book.”
“Yes,” Sunny says. “Although…the book is just as useless without the key.”
I sigh. “So what am I supposed to do?”
“Make a scan of the flyer,” Gabriel suggests. “And trade it for Cam’s book.”
Sunny frowns at him. “Why the hell would Cam want to give up the book in place of the flyer that goes with the book?”
“Uhhhhh…” Gabriel blows a raspberry.
“Maybe I do the opposite,” I say, thinking. “Maybe I try to downplay the treasure hunt as much as possible. Try to grab the book for another reason.”
“For the yearbook!” Julia says.
“Yes,” Sunny adds. “That’s good. Say you want to take some scans of it. Hell, we can take a full scan of just the San Francisco chapter and then give the book right back.”
Gabriel grins and nods. I can see the plan taking full form in front of me.
And it’s definitely not a bad plan. I daresay it’s even more solid than Ben Gates stealing the Declaration of Independence.
But I know Cam. He’s much smarter than he lets on.
Much smarter, and much more conniving. Exactly the way Ian was in National Treasure when he left Ben Gates marooned on a ship in the Arctic.
I shiver.
“I’ll do it,” I promise the others. “But just by myself, okay? Cam will know something’s up if the four of us are asking.”
We walk together all the way up to Market Street and grab the Judah line back for home. Julia jumps off early to hit up a bakery before going home. Then Gabriel. When Sunny gets off at Twelfth Avenue, she glares at me from the door.
“You won’t mess up,” she says. I can tell this is Sunny’s way of being supportive, but it comes out a lot more like an order.
“Right,” I say. “I won’t.”
I try to hold my head high as I march toward Cam’s house, even though I’m pummeled with wave after wave of déjà vu along his block.
That’s the curb I crashed into on my bike five years ago, where Cam pulled off his jacket and held it against the bleeding.
That’s the tree branch where we saved a cat, who then promptly scratched both our faces off in apparent gratitude.
I know every detail of this street so well that even the memories are painful.
By the time I get to Cam’s front door, I can barely breathe. I knock twice, but no one answers.
“V?”
I turn around, away from the door. Cam stops halfway up the porch steps. A duffel bag is slung over one shoulder. Of course he would be at some sports practice.
I clear my throat. “Oh, hi, yeah. Heya.”
Great start.
Cam leans against the railing. “What’s up?”
My knuckles go slightly white around the file. I try to think of a good answer. My teeth skim over my bottom lip. “The yearbook needs some filler pages for our archive scans, and I remembered that old book you had—”
“Gay Treasures?” he says, eyebrows furrowed.
I nod as if I had completely forgotten the title. “Right! That one. And anyway, the others thought it could work, maybe. So I was wondering if, um, you might still have it hanging around so we could scan a few pages. For the yearbook.”
Cam squints hard at me. “For the yearbook.”
I pretend to be super interested in a spider scrambling up the wood siding. “That’s what I said.”
Cam sets his duffel down next to him. I can feel his demanding glare, but I’m determined not to look back. If I can just avoid eye contact for a couple more minutes—
“I thought we were done with the treasure hunt,” Cam says. And suddenly it’s extremely hard not to look at him, because for the first time in ages, his fake, carefree vibe is gone. For the first time in—maybe ever?—he looks truly and utterly pissed.
Fine, I think to myself angrily. The masks are off.
“We are done with the treasure hunt,” I say in agreement.
“What’s that?” Cam asks. He points to the file.
“Noth— Hey!”
The whole thing is suddenly yanked out of my hands. I watch as Cam pries it open and sees the flyer. His breath catches on the line that matches our clue. His eyes flit back to mine.
“When were you going to tell me about this?”
“Um, never? We’re not friends anymore.”
“This was our thing,” Cam shouts. I cannot believe he is actually shouting. “You can’t just go behind my back and keep working on it without me!”
“I can do whatever I want!” I yell back.
I’m so tired of Cam pinning me under his thumb. It’s like he can’t be happy unless he knows I’m nearby and miserable. But not this time. This time I’m winning our stupid game. I’m finding that treasure and getting the hell out of here.
I hold my hand out expectantly. “Give that back,” I growl.
“So that’s why you want the book?” Cam asks. “You’re going to finish the hunt?”
I pause, then give a curt nod.
Cam looks down at his hands. “I see,” he murmurs. He sets his jaw and raises the file halfway out to me. But just as I reach for the other end, Cam’s eyes widen. It’s like I can actually see the evil idea entering his brain.
“Don’t you dare—” I start.
But before I can finish, Cam whirls around and sprints down the block, clutching my one and only copy of Harvey’s birthday flyer.
That fucking Ian.