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Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The Note
Bea scrambled up the rope ladder first, like she always did. Her sneakers found the familiar wooden rungs, worn smooth from a whole summer of climbing. The morning sun filtered through the oak leaves, painting golden spots across the treehouse floor.
"It's perfect," she whispered to herself, running her hand along the railing they'd finished just last week.
And it was perfect. Three months of sawing, hammering, and painting had transformed a pile of scrap lumber into the most amazing treehouse in the entire neighborhood. Maybe in the entire town. They had a real roof that didn't leak, windows with actual shutters, and a rope bridge connecting to a smaller lookout platform in the next tree over.
"Bea! What's taking so long?" called Mia from below.
Bea was about to shout back when she noticed something strange. A piece of paper was nailed to the trapdoor—a note that definitely hadn't been there yesterday.
She pulled it free and read it aloud as her friends climbed up behind her.
"'This treehouse belongs to Grover Street now. Unless you can prove you deserve it. Three tasks. Before sundown. Fail even one, and the treehouse is ours forever. Task One: Retrieve the flag from Broken Oak's highest branch. Task Two: Cross Frog Creek without using the bridge. Task Three: Solve the riddle carved in the Old Stone. The clock starts now. —The Grover Street Crew'"
Silence filled the treehouse. Then everyone started talking at once.
"They can't do that!" shouted Mia, her dark braids swinging as she shook her head.
"Broken Oak is like a million feet tall," said Tommy, his freckled face going pale.
"This is ridiculous," muttered Grace, adjusting her glasses. "We built this treehouse. We have receipts from the hardware store."
Bea stared at the note, her stomach churning. The Grover Street kids lived two blocks over, and they'd been jealous of the treehouse all summer. Their leader, a tall boy named Derek, had walked by a dozen times, always making comments about how their crew could build something better.
But they hadn't built anything. They'd just waited. And now they wanted to take what Bea and her friends had made.
"It's the last day of summer," Bea said quietly. "Tomorrow we all go back to school. If we don't do this today..."
She didn't need to finish. They all understood.
