The Shipwreck: An Official Minecraft Novel

by C. B. Lee

  Jake gasps.

  “That’s it! The secret weapon!” Jake can’t help jumping up and down with excitement. Hope rises up in his chest, and he feels recharged. They can still do this.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  TANK

  Tank has been dreading Friday all week, but when it arrives he’s almost relieved. Shark is already there when Tank shows up in the alleyway by the recycling bins. The boy is pacing back and forth, kicking a stray soda can. It clatters against the wall of the North Tower, bouncing with an aluminum clang and coming to rest at Tank’s feet.

  “Hey,” Tank says, announcing himself.

  Shark grins at him, the metal on his teeth glinting unnaturally in the yellow lights drifting in from the courtyard. “I got a treat for you.”

  “Yeah?” Tank folds his arms together, not expecting much. Shark’s last present was hair gel because he wanted all the guys to have the same slicked-back look.

  “You know those sneakers you’ve wanted for forever? And that I said I could get them for you for cheap?”

  “I don’t have all the money yet,” Tank says. He’s been saving his money slowly, but he hasn’t been putting in any shifts since Mr. Mishra hired Ba for real to fix up things around his shop. The shoes seem like a distant memory. Sure, they’d be cool, but he doesn’t need to have them now. Plus it’s been nice, with Ba having something to focus on other than their apartment. They even had a weird conversation this morning. Tank’s still trying to process it.

  For as long as he can remember, Ba has always tried to be fun and cool and do his own thing. It had annoyed Tank to no end, especially since he was the one having to fix Ba’s messes. But that morning, Ba had made him breakfast and sat down across from him and handed him an envelope with some cash. “You don’t have to work so hard, Thanh,” Ba had said. “I’m sorry if you thought you had to be a grown-up. That’s my job.”

  “Oh,” Tank said.

  “I got Vivian some of those programming books she was interested in. You don’t—you don’t need to have an after-school job, okay? Your Ma and me, we can take care of you. You’re a good kid, Thanh. I’m happy you’re so responsible. But you deserve to be a kid.”

  Tank is still thinking about it now, thinking about getting to be a kid and what he wants. Maybe he does want those sneakers. But he doesn’t need them now. He can wait.

  Shark laughs and shakes his head. “Good news. Turns out, my brother needs a little help on his”—Shark smiles, slow and wide—“shopping run. If you come help, I’m sure he can throw in those shoes for you. Size eleven, right?”

  Tank blinks slowly at him. “What do you mean, ‘shopping run’? I thought your brother worked at Shoes N’ More and you said he just needs to use his employee discount.”

  “Nah. He got fired, so he’s gonna just take what he can tonight.” Shark jerks his head at the car lingering in the street. A guy with Shark’s wide forehead is leaning out the window. He gives Shark and Tank a little wave. “He needs real muscle to come help.”

  “What about AJ and Gus?”

  “Those guys would be useless. I need you, man.” Shark grabs Tank’s arm and pretends to flex his bicep for him. “You’re big and scary and anyone would think twice if they saw you with us.”

  Tank flinches, jerking away from Shark’s grimy hands. He hates that his size is what everybody sees. It’s the only reason Shark wanted to be his friend in the first place.

  And when has Shark ever taken into account what Tank’s wanted? He doesn’t care about slicking back his hair, he doesn’t care about intimidating other kids at Fortress Park so they can have game tickets, and he doesn’t like it when people are afraid of him.

  Tank thinks about how Mr. Mishra is always working so hard, how long it takes Tank to make enough money to help with the groceries and the rent, about his parents and how much time they spend working to make sure the family keeps going. He thinks about how long it takes to build an intricate hedge maze and the satisfaction of putting in the work to complete a design.

  Tank’s always been a follower.

  But he doesn’t have to be.

  “No,” he says, planting his feet. The concrete feels firm against his shoes. This feels steady, good, solid.

  “It’s just moving some boxes from the store to Chris’s car. Come on.”

  Tank crosses his arms. “No way. I’m not helping him steal stuff.”

  Shark’s eyes flash in anger. “Are you serious? After all I’ve done for you?”

  “You haven’t done anything for me.”

  “You know what everyone at school used to call you? Frankenstein. Yeah. Like the monster. Because of that stupid sweater you wore in seventh grade.” Shark folds his arms, looking up at Tank with a cold glare. “Because that’s what you look like. Me? I saw opportunity. I turned your name into something cool.”

  The word opportunity bites through the air. This is the only reason why Shark bothers to hang out with him—because he’s big and tough-looking, and he makes Shark look cool. Shark doesn’t actually care about Tank at all.

  “I don’t want to go,” Tank says.

  “Think you’re too good for us, then? You’re nobody, Tank. You’re nothing but a loser. You’re gonna regret this. I’m gonna make you feel so sorry you ever said no to me.” Shark gestures at Chris in the car, and steps forward with a menacing grin. “And you know what? I was the one who started the Frankenstein name in the first place. And I can definitely bring it back.”

  Tank takes a step back instinctively. For all people assume about him, he’s never actually been in a fight before. He gulps, watching Shark’s brother get out of the car and start walking toward him. His back is to the recycling bins, and Shark is blocking the only exit to the courtyard or to the street.

  He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t want to get hurt, either.

  Shark makes a fist, punching his open palm with a grin. “That’s right.”

  Tank backs up into the bins, throwing his hands up. This is it. He’s done for. Shark and his brother are going to beat him up, and then everyone at school is going to laugh at him forever—

  The loud blare of police sirens cuts suddenly through the air, shrill whoops that pierce the alleyway.

  “What the—” Shark stumbles backward.

  A voice crackles, as if over a loudspeaker. “Be on the lookout for suspicious activity, we are looking for a former employee of Shoes N’ More, brunette—”

  Chris grabs Shark roughly by the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here!”

  Tank watches them rush to the car and speed off into the night. He blinks, looking for a police car, but doesn’t see anything.

  “Up here!”

  Jake and Emily peer over the open stairwell ledge and wave at him.

  “You know, it’s amazing what you can do with a voice filter,” Emily says proudly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Tank says in amazement.

  From the floor above, a stairwell door clangs shut, and a few moments later, Jake and Emily bound out of the side door into the alleyway.

  “Hey,” Jake says. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said this morning. I think you’re a great player, and it’s really cool that you like to decorate, and the flowers look great. Your farms are super efficient and amazing.” He takes a deep breath. “I really like hanging out with you, Tank.”

  “Me too,” Emily adds. “I’m sorry. What I said in the center—I didn’t mean that we weren’t friends, and that spending time with you this summer was a waste or anything. It’s actually been really awesome. Like, the best. I got caught up in my friends from school, but you two are my friends, too. If you still want to be.”

  “Yeah? Friends?” Tank asks with a small smile. He looks off into the distance, a slow pleased happiness growing in his belly. His friends ca
me back for him. Because they cared.

  “Of course,” Jake says.

  Emily nods quickly as well.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be hanging out with Shark and those guys anymore,” Tank says decisively. “I don’t even think he liked me at all. He just wanted me around because I was tough-looking and made him look cooler.”

  Emily laughs. “Come on, Tank. We know that you’re the coolest.”

  Tank chuckles. He does feel pretty cool with Emily and Jake by his side, the three of them having adventures together, making jokes in the community center, going on long walks, and hanging out. He’s glad they feel the same way.

  “Oh, you know when I said we didn’t have to finish the game, I didn’t mean I wanted to stop playing with you guys,” Tank says. “I meant like, we don’t have to defeat the Leviathan. We can start a new world, or just keep exploring, or just build fun things together. We can do anything.”

  Emily pushes a notebook at him. “What if we can defeat the Leviathan?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  JAKE

  “The king and queen gave her a magic spell so she could journey to the world above and find the one weapon that could destroy the monster and save the kingdom,” Jake reads aloud. Some of the words are written in a neat, rounded hand, and some are in the clumsy child’s scrawl. The story fills out about half the notebook, a few words on each page, the majority of the space dedicated to the clumsy crayon illustrations—the merfolk in their peaceful kingdom, the Leviathan, the mermaid princess transforming into a human and adventuring through the Minecraft world and then returning with the trident.

  “Let me see it again,” Tank says. He frowns, a wrinkle starting between his eyebrows. “I forgot we found this. It’s great, but it doesn’t exactly show us how to defeat the Leviathan.” He looks out the window. “And with construction starting tomorrow, I don’t think we have the time.”

  Jake flips through the pages again. “You’re right. This book just proves that the Wizard had based it on this story, but there’s a lot more that we don’t know. Like all the riddles we solved, they’re not all in here.”

  Emily sighs. “But there is a solution. We just have to find this magical trident. All we have to do is solve the entire game for real, without the Wizard’s shortcuts—”

  “We need more time,” Tank says.

  Jake takes a deep breath. “You know, it won’t hurt to ask. Isabella Reyes, the new owner of the building? She’s the one doing all the renovations. Remember we found all those photos about how cool the community center used to be? What if we show her how important it was, and how cool it would be again?” He tries to remember how Dad always talked about pitching projects. “And we can talk about our own personal experience, and why it’s important to us. Why having a space like this is important to make friends.”

  Emily and Tank glance at each other. “I think it’s a long shot.”

  “If we don’t try, then we’ll never know,” Jake says.

  Tank nods. “Let’s go for it. How do we find her?”

  * * *

  —

  “Shh!” Jake whispers as he gestures for Tank and Emily to head inside his apartment. He sneaks in, padding softly across the carpet. A soft thump sounds next to him, and Jake whirls around to see Tank stumbling over a footstool.

  Sorry, he mouths, setting it back upright.

  The door to Dad’s office is open, and Jake can hear him clicking away. The tap-tap-tap of the keyboard stops for a moment. “Jake? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, Dad!” Jake calls out.

  “What were you doing out so late?”

  “Oh, um, I went over to Tank’s!”

  “That’s great, son. Did it go well? Did you talk to Emily, too?”

  Jake flushes with embarrassment. He does not want to talk about wanting to apologize to Emily and Tank when they’re right here.

  He hurriedly ushers Tank and Emily through the nearest open door—the bathroom. “I’m gonna distract him, you look in his office for a business card or something for Isabella’s office information. It should be on his desk or all over his plans! He also has an address book planner thing—it’s purple!” He shuts the door, hoping they understand.

  Dad squints at him. “Are you just hanging out in the hallway?”

  “Oh yeah, I was waiting for you!” Jake says brightly. “Hey, you know how you were showing me to break in the new glove you got me? I’m not sure if I’m doing it right.”

  Something clunks from the bathroom and Dad looks for the noise.

  “Oh, do not go in there,” Jake says, making a face.

  Dad laughs. “You know we have a fan, you can turn it on if you have to drop a bomb.”

  “So the glove! Yeah!” Jake gestures toward his room and finds where he plopped the glove under his mattress like Dad suggested.

  The door creaks slightly as it opens, but Jake coughs to cover the sound. He spots Emily and Tank tiptoeing past his room carefully toward the office.

  “Oh, buddy, you can’t just stick it under your bed. Rubber bands and shaving cream, that’s the trick.” Dad clucks his tongue as he takes the glove.

  Tank pauses to watch.

  Jake gestures frantically for his friends to go, exhaling a sigh of relief as they disappear into the office and the door shuts behind them right as Dad heads for the bathroom.

  He comes back with the shaving cream and waggles it at Jake. “All right, let me show you how to do this.”

  “Great, Dad,” Jake says, watching the office door creak open again.

  Emily grins and points at a card in her other hand. Tank gives him a big thumbs up as they disappear down the hallway.

  Jake keeps Dad’s attention on him as he asks way too many questions about why shaving cream is necessary and if any other creams can be used. Dad’s laughing about whipped cream when the front door shuts, and Jake exhales in relief.

  His phone chimes with a text.

  Emily 7:32 P.M.

  Got it! Her office opens at 8 a.m.

  It doesn’t look like it’s on any bus routes.

  I can ask my sister to drive us!

  Jake taps out a quick response. “I’m gonna hang out with Emily and Tank tomorrow morning, is that cool?”

  Dad smiles at him. “Yeah, of course. I’m so glad you three made up.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Jake says. “Your advice was the best.”

  Dad chuckles. “Yeah, well, you can’t just give up on something that’s worth fighting for,” he says.

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  —

  “This is really weird,” Carmen says, glancing at Jake and Tank in the rearview mirror as they pull away from the parking lot.

  “You’re really weird,” Emily says.

  “What even is this address? It’s, like, almost downtown.”

  “Part of our community service project,” Emily says. “It’s a surprise. For Mrs. Jenkins.”

  Carmen sighs. “Fine. But only because you promised me your share of your allowance for clothes this month, and I need more eyeliner.”

  The freeway is crowded this morning, and Jake watches the landscape speed by as the strip malls and residential neighborhoods give way to industrial buildings and warehouses. Downtown sparkles in the distance, and they pull into the wide lot of a cheerfully painted modern building with a sign that reads REYES ARCHITECTURE AND DESIGN.

  “Wait right here! We’ll be back!” Emily says.

  “But for how long?” Carmen drawls.

  “It won’t be long,” Jake says, patting the car door as he shuts it. He follows Tank and Emily as they enter the building. They’ve got a little time; according to his dad’s calendar, the official teardown won’t start until noon. Isabella isn’t even scheduled to be there, so he hopes that
she’s in her office.

  It’s all bright sunshine streaming in through glass walls, posters of completed designs scattered everywhere, a light blue motif running along the walls. There’s a front desk with a smartly dressed woman typing away behind it, and several offices labeled with names.

  Jake gestures and they drop down to crouch below the eye level of the receptionist and sneak toward the office labeled ISABELLA REYES.

  Emily reaches up and cracks open the door.

  Isabella is sitting at her desk, poring over a set of blueprints; she looks up, raising her eyebrow at the three of them.

  “Oh, hello,” she says, looking at them with some confusion. “Jess, did I have a school tour booked here today?” she calls out in a louder tone.

  The woman from the front desk leaps up and looks at the three of them sheepishly. “No, there’s nothing on the schedule except for the Pacific Crest construction today,” Jess says. “I’ll see these three out.”

  “No, wait, please!” Tank says, stepping closer to Jake and Emily.

  “We’re actually here about Pacific Crest,” Jake says, stepping forward. “Please don’t tear down the community center.”

  Isabella tilts her head. “You’re Jake, Nigel’s son, right?” she asks. “Did your father say something?”

  Jake shakes his head. “I’m here because I think it was a good place for kids. And it could be a good place again.”

  Isabella looks at him and then waves her hand at Jess. “Give me a few minutes with these kids.”

  Jess gives Jake a suspicious look before ducking out of the office and closing the door.

  Jake takes a deep breath.

  Isabella leans forward and steeples her fingers together. “Now, what’s this about the community center? Last I heard that nonprofit hasn’t been active for about eighteen years.”