He passes us again, and as he wears a hole in the concrete, I, too, try to work the problem.
“Maybe it’s a famous hotel,” Noah offers.
“Or a landmark building,” Ginny puts in.
“Maybe it’s all of them,” I say.
“All of them?” Noah asks.
“Something that combines them.” Leo snaps his fingers. “I think I know what it might be. The weigh me part is the key.” He glances around, making sure the other teams aren’t nearby, then pulls us in close and whispers.
I gasp, and I want to smack a big one on his lips because he’s so damn clever.
Except I can’t do that.
Or really, I shouldn’t do that.
RaeLynn’s last words underline my every thought.
You can’t be too careful these days.
That needs to be my mantra, and I vow to follow it as we rush out of the park, Noah debating the fastest way to Midtown.
When Noah finally settles on a flying carpet—or a cab, if no flying carpet is available—Leo stops in his tracks.
He stares at the ground by the arch. A pink backpack with a rainbow sits forlornly on the concrete. The top is unzipped slightly, revealing purple and pink spiral-bound notebooks and a Pusheen the cat pencil holder. “Guys. Did some kid lose her backpack?”
“I don’t know.” I bend and take a look at the tag. “Property of Isabelle Grayson.” It lists an address a few blocks away.
I look around for any grade-schoolers, but the park is mostly empty of school-age kids, since it’s nine thirty. Nor do I spot any young kids searching for a pink bag.
“We should return this,” Leo says firmly.
“We should,” I say, seconding him. “Doesn’t matter if it puts us behind.”
Noah groans.
There’s a time limit on the scavenger hunt. We have two hours to complete the challenge and send in the photo proof. The team that’s fastest and most creative wins the points.
“We can’t split up. We can’t take the pictures unless the whole team is there. We need to make a decision,” Leo says. “Backpack mission or hunt mission?”
“Um. Hate to break it to you. But ticktock.” Noah taps his wristwatch.
Ginny stares at Noah. “Hello! Some kid doesn’t have her bag for school. She might even have her lunch in there.”
He scoffs like that’s what he meant to say. “Yeah, exactly. Ticktock, as in, let’s get our butts in gear and drop this backpack off at Isabelle’s place.”
Ginny smiles warmly at him. “I thought that’s what you meant.” Her words come out a little flirty.
Leo checks the address tag. “Her apartment is a few blocks away. Let’s see if there’s a doorman we can leave it with, at least.”
“Wait.” My warning comes out before I expected it to. But the conversation with RaeLynn replays in my head. Would she have planted this backpack? Is this scavenger hunt sabotage? Or worse, did George—sweet, put-upon, beleaguered George . . . Would he have done this to slow down the team in the lead? Both of them are salivating for the prize, albeit for different reasons. I’d hate to think the triplet daddy would do this, but I don’t know either one of them. There could be more to this than meets the eye. Isn’t there always?
“What is it, Lulu?” Leo asks curiously.
“Do you think this is a trick? Like, some sort of sabotage?”
“Dude, that would make this one cutthroat scavenger hunt,” Noah says.
“But it’s possible. It could totally be some crazy scheme concocted by those manifesters. The Frodo’s people,” Ginny suggests, loving the conspiracy idea.
Leo cuts in, his voice confident and commanding. “Guys, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a trick or real. Our choices are the same. Leave it or return it. Which one are we doing? I know my decision. What is yours?”
Just like that, he assumes the leadership role fully, and I tuck away my doubt.
All at once, the three of us declare, “Return it.”
“I’ll do it.” Noah reaches for the backpack. “Told you I was Usain Bolt.”
And bolt he does. His feet are winged. He’s Hermes, flying down the block before anyone can stop him. We jog behind, but he’s propelled by jet fuel, racing along the block, stopping briefly to cross the street, then speed-demoning it down the next one.
I point at him. “Holy smokes. That dude can fly.”
“He sure can,” Ginny says, admiration in her tone.
“Ginny, do I detect a note of you’re-seeing-Noah-in-a-new-light in your tone?” Leo asks.
She snaps her gaze toward him. “What? New light?”
