That Saturday, Riley got his mom to drop him off at Ben's house.

"Don't stay over too late," His mom told him, as he got out of the car. "I'll need you home at eight, to get all your homework done."

Riley gave her a half-smile. "Yeah," He said. "I'll be staying over for dinner. But I'll be back tonight. I have to study for my test tonight."

He slammed the car door shut, and ran up the driveway to knock on the front door. He used the large, brass knocker, which was a heavy lion's head. The woman who answered the door was short, with curly white-blonde hair, and a stern look.

"Yes?" She asked, staring down at Riley. "Are you selling something? I'm very busy."

"Is Ben home?" Riley asked, nervously.

" . . . You're here for my son?" She asked, surprised. "Come in, I'll go get him."

He waited in the foyer, looking curiously at the oil paintings on the wall, and the large bookcase filled with leather-bound books. Everything looked so antique, and fancy. He felt so out of place.

Riley turned around, when he heard Ben and Emily walk down the stairs. He looked pleased to see Riley.

"Riley, this is my mom," He said. "She's a professor at the University. She works in the linguistics department."

Riley gulped, and ducked his head as Ben introduced him.

"Mom, this is Riley Poole. We're both in Hamlet. I invited him over to practise lines," Ben told her, proudly putting an arm around Riley's shoulders.

Emily shook his hand, firmly. "Pleased to meet you, Riley," She said. "If you'll excuse me, boys, I have a lot of work to do this afternoon. Feel free to practise upstairs. Will you be staying for supper, Riley?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

Emily nodded, curtly. "Alright." She gave the boys a tiny smile, as she watched them run upstairs. He seemed like a polite kid, she thought to himself. A bit quiet, but nice enough.

It was good to see Ben hanging out with peers, even if Riley was a few years younger than him. Emily had been so worried about her son, since the divorce last year. Ben had thrown himself further into his quest to find the Templar Treasure, spending hours on his computer. It had gotten to the point, where he stayed up all hours of the night, poring over old documents, and reading up on theories online. Many of his 'friends' were actually, middle-aged scholars he frequently emailed. But he rarely brought people home from school.

She was glad that he was interacting with his peers, like a normal child of sixteen, instead of the treasure-obsessed young man he recently strived to be. Who knows, maybe this relationship with young Riley Poole could be the thing that grounds him to the present day. School friends, sports teams, after-school clubs. He needed someone his own age to confide in.

Riley walked into Ben's bedroom, and was surprised by the amount of paperwork strewn around the spacious room. Ben's bed and desk were littered with paperwork, books, and computer printouts taped to the wall.

"What is all this?" Riley asked, curious. "Schoolwork? Or more leisure research?"

Ben's jaw clenched. "Something like that," he said, stacking the paperwork on his bed, and moving it to his computer desk. Riley glanced at them. Some of the papers were about the founding fathers, others were sea charts of shipwrecks in the Atlantic ocean. Others were maps of Boston, and Washington D.C.

Ben sat down beside him and pulled out his dog-eared Hamlet book. They practised lines for nearly an hour, until Riley grew bored. He flopped backwards on Ben's bed, and stared at the ceiling.

"So, what's all that research about, anyway?" He asked. "And don't brush me off, this time."

"You really want to know?" Ben asked, lying down beside him.

"Yeah."

"Promise you won't laugh." Ben looked at him, a serious expression on his face.

"I won't laugh," Riley said, propping himself up on one elbow. "Just tell me – it's obviously important to you."

"Okay, a few years ago, my Grandpa told me a story," Ben told him. "It was 1832, and Charles Carroll was the last living signer of the Declaration of Independance. He woke up his stable boy, a boy named Thomas Gates, to take him to talk to the President."He proceeded to tell Riley about the Templar treasure, and the clue, 'the secret lies with Charlotte'.

"Wow," Riley said, staring enthralled at Ben. "That is amazing."

"Do you want to see something really cool?" Ben asked him, standing up. He pulled his Grandpa's old book off the bookcase, and carefully opened it. "This was my Grandpa's book, before he died. Him and my dad spent years searching for the treasure, but they never found it."

Riley picked up the photograph, and scrutinized it. "Is that your dad?" he asked.

Ben nodded. "Yeah," He said. "He lives in Philadelphia now. My parents divorced last year, and Mom got custody."

"Do you get to see him a lot?" Riley asked, curious. "My dad's in Iowa, but he never visits or calls or anything. I haven't seen him in a few years."

"I'm supposed to spend march break with him," Ben said.

Emily ordered pad thai, and curry. They ate around the large, circular oak island in the kitchen, the room quiet save for the clicking of their chopsticks.

"So Riley," Emily said. "How did you meet my son?"

"We met at the Hamlet auditions last week," Riley told her. His mouth was burning, so he took a gulp of milk, and continued eating.

"What grade are you in?" She asked. "You look pretty young for a high school student."

"Mom!" Ben warned. "Do you really have to interrogate him?"

"No, it's okay," Riley told him. "I actually skipped a grade. I'm in ninth grade, but I'm actually thirteen."

"Interesting," Emily said, smiling. "And what are your plans for after graduation?"

Riley shrugged. "Not sure yet."

"You are going to University after, right?" She asked him.

"Yeah," Riley said. "I just haven't decided where yet."

"That's fine, you still have to time to work on that."

Riley smiled at her. "Yeah," He said. Ben's mom looked incredibly stern, but so far, she seemed to be kind of nice.

"I'm just so glad to see my son bring home friends," Emily told him. "You're welcome over any time."

"Thanks," Riley said, quietly.

Before the divorce, Ben's house had been a warzone, when Patrick and Emily had been fighting every night. His only solace had been his research.

"You indulge that boy way too much!" Patrick yelled. "He's got it in his head that he's going to find that damned treasure! It's all a myth – I should know, I wasted years searching. I don't want my son to waste his life, trying to unearth a treasure that doesn't even exist!" Patrick yelled, jabbing his finger at Emily.

"You used to believe it was real. Don't force him to give up on this. Benjamin needs this! I don't want you to convince your son otherwise, just because you gave up on finding that treasure."

The divorce had meant that he rarely saw his dad, but it also meant he didn't have to hear them constantly argue. His mom's house was much quieter now. Riley was the first friend he'd brought home in six months, and he was glad that Riley appeared to be warming up to his mom. She had scared off a few friends in the past, her demeanor had been frosty to some of them.

Ben was glad that Riley hadn't been here before to witness the way his house had been, back when Patrick and Emily would fight for hours. The house would be filled with their angry, venomous words spilling into every room.

He'd kept himself locked away in his bedroom for hours, chatting on historical forums, talking with scholars and college students online, and reading up as much as could about his favourite subject, history. Ben swore that one day, he'd be able to find that fabled Templar Treasure, and prove his dad wrong. It was out there, somewhere. And he just had to find it. That was so vital, to prove to his family, and all the skeptics that openly mocked his family for believing in such a preposterous myth.