When a shy girl from Figure Eight suddenly gets whisked into a dangerous treasure hunt involving four pogues known for their knack for trouble, she finds herself navigating not only the troubled waters of adventure but also the complexities of frien...
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The five had made it to John B's house—well, the "Chateau," as he proudly called it. Sydney glanced at the familiar fish shack as they hopped off the boat and onto the worn dock. Not even a day ago, she had escaped through a window there, convinced the Pogues were about to kill her. Now, she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with them, a small smile still lingering on her lips, even as the adrenaline from nearly getting shot began to fade.
Her eyes followed John B as he rushed toward a small area beneath a tin roof on the dock, eagerly setting down the duffel bag they had risked their lives for. Whatever it was contained was still a mystery—treasure or contraband—and the anticipation was eating away at all of them.
Without thinking, Sydney hurried over, desperate to claim a spot where she could get a clear view before the rest of the others crowded in. Her heart raced, still buzzing from the thrill of the chase.
"What do you guys think it is?" Kiara asked, walking up beside Sydney. Her voice was casual, but her eyes were sharp with curiosity. She leaned against the dock's wooden railing, her arms crossed.
"Gotta be money or something, right?" John B muttered, his fingers fumbling with the straps of the bag.
"Or a couple of keys with street value in the low to mid-millions!" JJ practically vibrated with excitement, leaning in closer, his blue eyes gleaming with the thought.
"Can we just open the bag?" Pope interrupted, his sudden outburst slicing through the building tension. Everyone's heads snapped around to him.
"Wow, Pope," John B teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's a rare burst of emotion from you."
Pope threw his hands up in frustration. "Okay, you guys are killing me with the anticipation! Just open the bag!" He had a point. Sydney was dying to find out, too. "We almost died over this."
"Jeez, alright," John B muttered, finally getting the straps loose. The silence was thick with expectation as he reached inside and began to pull something out of another bag, nested within the duffel.
The four of them leaned in as he revealed a metal cylinder, tarnished and weathered. John B unscrewed the lid with deliberate slowness, the clanging of metal breaking the quiet tension. He tipped the cylinder over.
A bronzey-gold compass fell into his hands.
The four leaned in. Disappointment hit immediately—this wasn't some priceless treasure, some stash of cash. It was just a compass. Sydney's smile faded. Nearly getting shot for this? She had been expecting something grand, something worth the risk, but an old compass?
Pope backed away, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right," he said dryly. "Good job, everybody. We found a compass." His sarcasm hung in the air, mirroring the collective disappointment.
JJ, equally let down, pulled off his red cap, running a hand through his hair before turning away. He chuckled bitterly but couldn't resist looking back at John B, who was still staring down at the compass. "Dude, it's not worth anything," JJ said, frowning.
