The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1)

“Say it, boy!” Billy yelled, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. If he couldn’t get Tick to obey, the tables would turn and he’d be the one suffering a humiliating defeat. “Say it or I’ll wrap your sorry scarf around your head and dunk you ’til you quit breathing.”


Tick felt a sudden surge of confidence and he spoke before he could stop himself. “Go ahead, Billy Boy. At least then I’d never have to look at your Frankenstein goat face again.”

His spirits soared when the crowd around them laughed. A few kids clapped and whistled.

“Frankenstein goat face!” one kid called out. “Billy the Frankenstein Goat Face!”

This created more laughs, followed by murmurs of conversation and shuffling of feet as people moved away, evidently having had enough.

“Leave him alone, Goat Face,” a girl yelled over her shoulder.

Tick closed his eyes and took a gulp of air, knowing Billy would push him down at least one more time, would hold him under longer than ever before. But to his shock, he felt his arm released; the pressure of Billy’s knee against his spine disappeared. As Tick’s entire right side lit up with tingles and pressure from the blood rushing back to where it belonged, he scooted away from the pool of water and turned to sit on his rear end, staring up at Billy.

The Goat looked down on him with an odd expression. It wasn’t anger or hate. He seemed . . . surprised.

“You’re weird, man,” Billy said. “I’m sick of you anyway. Go home and cuddle with your Barf Scarf.” He kicked Tick’s leg, then turned to walk away with his hoodlum friends.

Tick didn’t totally understand the storm of emotions that swelled within him at that moment, but he surprised himself when he laughed out loud right before the tears came.

~

As Tick walked home, he put Billy out of his mind and thought of the long three months he’d just endured. After the thrill and excitement, the life-threatening danger and escapades of Alaska, he’d expected to come home and barely rest, clue after clue and stranger after stranger showing up at his doorstep, delivering one adventure after another.

But nothing had happened. Nothing.

He and Sofia e-mailed back and forth, never failing to ask the other if they’d seen something or met someone. The answer was always a frustrated NO!

Where were the clues? What had happened to Mothball and Rutger? Did something get lost in the mail? Had they somehow proven themselves unworthy? Had the man

in charge moved on to other, more deserving, kids? The questions poured out of their minds and into their e-mails, but no answer ever came back.

Tick was sick with discouragement.

All he could do was watch the snow pile up in his front yard all through January and February. The weathermen loved reminding their viewers that it had been the worst winter on record, revealing snow tallies in fancy charts with as much enthusiasm as if they were announcing the lottery winners. It was March before the snow finally started to melt, revealing patches of deadened grass that desperately longed for spring.

Tick hadn’t missed a single day of school during the three months, trying his best to keep focused while he worried about not hearing from Master George. But even competing in the Jackson County Chess Tournament in the middle of March hadn’t been the same and Tick had placed fifth in his age bracket. His family seemed shocked that he’d lost the top spot, but his mind had been somewhere else, and the three-year winning streak ended with a dull thump instead of a big bang.

His dad constantly tried to cheer him up, encouraging him that something would come soon, but after a couple of months, even his dad seemed disheartened. Like a wounded snail limping to its next meal, Tick lived out each day hoping for a letter from Master George.

Tick did receive one exciting thing in the mail: a package of free spaghetti and sauce from Frupey the Butler. True to Sofia’s word, it had tasted wonderful, and Tick knew he could never eat the cheap stuff again.

But even in the depths of the three-month doldrums, Tick and Sofia had never given up. They made a commitment to study their own journals every day, even if only for a few minutes, to keep their minds fresh, hoping something new might pop out and surprise them. They forced themselves to stay active in the game, even if the other side offered no help. And every day, no matter what, they sent an e-mail to each other.

Tick felt sure he’d hit rock bottom when he got home and checked his e-mail, clicking on a new one from Sofia.

Tick,



Hello from Italy.



Ciao.



Sofia





Tick groaned and wrote his own quick reply:

Sofia,



Howdy from America.



Later.



Tick





Depressed, Tick shut off the computer and slumped his way up the stairs to wait for dinner. A few minutes later, he fell asleep with the Journal of Curious Letters clasped in his arms like a teddy bear.