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

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April sixth was a Saturday, and the sun seemed to melt away any remnants of clouds, beating down with a warmth that hadn’t been felt in months. Tick made his usual trek to check the mail, basking in the golden light, his spirits lifted despite the circumstances. The sounds of trickling water came from everywhere as the massive amounts of snow increased their melting pace, disappearing by inches a day now. It wouldn’t be long before hundreds of tulips stood like fancy-hat-wearing soldiers all over the yard, the result of painstaking pre-winter planting by his mom over the years.

Even Tick, not exactly a flower expert, enjoyed his mom’s ridiculous amount of tulips every spring.

As he made his way down the steaming sidewalk, Tick took a deep breath, loving the strong smells of the forest that returned with the melting snow. The scents of moist dirt and bark and rotting leaves that had lain beneath the white stuff all winter filled his nostrils, and he felt better than he had in months. Spring tended to do that to people.

His good mood was short-lived, though. When he saw that the mailman hadn’t brought anything from Master George, he slipped right back into poor-little-Tick mode and went back inside the house.

~

Later that afternoon, Tick sat at the desk in his bedroom, working on the math homework he’d been too depressed to finish the day before. He’d opened up his window, grateful that he was able to do so without freezing to death; the winter had seemed to last for ten years. He was just finishing up his last problem when he heard the phone ring, followed by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall toward his room.

“Tick, it’s your girlfriend.”

He turned to see his sister Lisa at the door, holding out the phone.

“What?”

“Phone’s for you. It’s a girl.”

Tick’s first thought was that it must be Sofia—who else would call him? He jumped up from his desk and walked over to grab the phone. At the last second, Lisa put it behind her back, smirking at Tick.

“Wow, you seem awfully excited,” she said, eyebrows raised. “Are we having a little love affair that we haven’t shared with Sis?”

“Give it—it’s probably my, uh, science project partner.”

Lisa chuckled. “You’re gullible, kid—it’s actually a man.” She handed him the phone and left.

Tick closed the door and sat on his bed, putting the receiver to his ear. “Hello?”

At first, all he could hear was static and the sounds of . . . beeping . . . or some kind of machinery in the background. Then came a loud clonk, followed by a soft boink and then a rolling series of metal clicks, like someone cranking up a thick chain into a holding wheel. Finally, surprising him, he heard the distinct meow of a cat.

“Hello?” he repeated. “Anybody there?”

From the other end came a rattling sound as the person picked the phone back up. A voice spoke through the scratchy static, a man with the one accent Tick could identify—British. “Is this . . . let me see . . . ah, yes, is this Mister Atticus Higginbottom?”

“Yes . . . this is Atticus.”

“Uh, dear sir, you were supposed to be walking about today. I mean, er—it’s a nice day to go for a walk, don’t you think? Simply smashing, really, from what I hear.” The man coughed. Tick heard the cat meow again, followed by some muffled words as the stranger covered up his end with his hand. “In a minute, Muffintops. Patience, dear feline!”

“Sir, do I know you?”

“No, no, no, not yet, anyway. But we certainly have some common acquaintances, if you get my meaning. In fact, I’m on instruction from them, old chap.”

“On . . . instruction?”

“Yes, yes, quite right. They need you to go for a walk, good man. Asked me to call you.”

“A walk? Where?”

“The usual, I suppose. What’s a young master like yourself sitting inside all day for anyhow? Got a bit of the flu, do you?”

“No, I was just . . .” But the stranger had a point. Tick should be outside on the first beautiful day of the year so far.

“Well, off you go. Not a moment to waste.”

“But . . . where am I supposed to go? Who—”

“Cheers, old boy. Only a month to go—I mean, er, a month or two, yes, that’s right.”

“Wait,” Tick urged.

The phone clicked and went silent.





Chapter


28




~





A Meeting in the Woods


Tick told his mom he had to go to the library, then headed out the door. Though he didn’t need a jacket, he’d instinctively put on his scarf, which began to scratch and make him too warm before he’d made it past the driveway.

Stupid scarf. He loosened it, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.