Book Scavenger: Chapters 6-10

He panned a faded striped sofa on the sidewalk with a free sign, a Giants pennant fluttering on a rooftop deck.

Matthew zoomed in on an old-fashioned light-up sign jutting out from an ice cream shop across the street.

Before Matthew could retort, James blurted, “Steve likes your hair.”

A bell clanged, and a red-and-tan trolley crested the hill, stopping at the intersection with another clang of the bell.

All she came up with was a crazy patchwork mishmash of all the different places she’d lived: their sunny tiled kitchen in New Mexico, their fireplace in Colorado that you could flip on with a switch, the slanted hallways in their Connecticut house, the carpeted staircase in their South Dakota house that she and Matthew bumped down on their rear ends.

There wasn’t a jeering tone to James’s question, but Emily bristled anyway.

There wasn’t a jeering tone to James’s question, but Emily bristled anyway.

It was a simple but stately building.

Matthew said, ‘Don’t be a surly wombat,’ and went tromping down the path.

I mean, they’re these cute, pudgy animals, and picturing one with an attitude, all surly...”

They had to pry Matthew from the crowd watching the bucket man rat-a-tat around his makeshift drum set, and then they headed back to the cable car stop by a different route than the way they’d come.

Emily and James clambered down the stairs after him.

The station was an expansive, slick-walled cave with flickering overhead lighting.

It would totally make up for Babbage poaching her book if this was, in fact, for Book Scavenger.

The gold beetle embossed on the front glittered at her.

“A devoted Swirly carries Flush paraphernalia at all times. That’s rule number one. Rule number two is Flush adornment makes the world a better place. Besides, sticker slapping never hurt anyone.”

“A devoted Swirly carries Flush paraphernalia at all times. That’s rule number one. Rule number two is Flush adornment makes the world a better place. Besides, sticker slapping never hurt anyone.”

The Cranes’ rentals were always furnished with the basics, and that was it. Stark and bland.

Tables with fabric draped over them, and then frames and trinkets on top of the fabric.

The book was entirely too special-looking: a hardback bound in linen cloth the color of a pomegranate, a gold beetle embossed on the front with flecks that sparkled when you tilted the book.

She thought that was weird at first, an old story in a clearly brand-new book, but her dad reminded her that classics get republished all the time, often with a new cover to “make them more accessible to modern readers,” as he put it.

She’d flipped ahead and read enough snippets to know it was about a secret message and a treasure hunt.

Even though she had teased James about his knack for spotting a puzzle anywhere, it kind of spooked her, as if the book itself were trying to talk to her.

He crinkled his nose and tilted his head in response, looking bemused.

“If sightseeing and exploring new places is our family norm, then maybe adventure isn’t the right word choice.”

Inspired by Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s endeavors with the City Lights Booksellers and Publishers, Griswold began publishing an alternative weekly paper called the Bayside Weekly, which eventually developed into one of the most prominent publishing companies in San Francisco.

She bent the paper over the corner of their laminate countertop to rip it, but accidentally tore off the corner of Griswold’s photo.

James inspected the emblems even closer, mulling the idea over.

James inspected the emblems even closer, mulling the idea over.

“Maybe choosing Poe is his way of making amends.”

“This story is about a treasure hunt. A man finds a gold-bug and a piece of parchment, and then he discovers that when he heats the parchment a cipher appears. He cracks the cipher and it leads him and two friends to buried treasure. So...maybe Mr. Griswold is planning something like that.”

They figured it must not be important if they hadn’t been compelled to open the box for a whole year, and since they were on a perpetual quest to live with as few belongings as necessary, off went the box.

They figured it must not be important if they hadn’t been compelled to open the box for a whole year, and since they were on a perpetual quest to live with as few belongings as necessary, off went the box.

“Let’s venture down to North Beach,” Emily’s dad said.

The sky erupted with another thunderous roar as a pyramid of six jets flew high above the twin white spires of the Saints Peter and Paul Church.

Emily and her parents clutched their ears, but Matthew didn’t seem as fazed.

The bookstore was now a hodgepodge of rooms that spanned nearly a whole block.

By the time his favorite band came back to that venue, the Cranes would probably be long gone, living in Ohio or Mississippi or wherever their parents’ whims took them next.

By the time his favorite band came back to that venue, the Cranes would probably be long gone, living in Ohio or Mississippi or wherever their parents’ whims took them next.

She only wished there wasn’t a giant, invisible timer lording over her family, ticking down to when they would inevitably move again.