by Will Taylor
“Oh!” I said, sitting up. “Oh oh oh! Me too! That is awesome! We need to talk more about that.” Maybe she could become my new Abby, if things, well, never got back to normal.
It was always good to be prepared for the worst.
Carolina shrugged. “Follow the rules, get into NAFAFA, and maybe we can. But now I have to go.” She yanked a random pillow down, and there was the Hub again. “Good luck, Maggie Hetzger.”
“Bye,” I said. “And thank you.”
I returned to Alaska. As I crawled out of Fort Orpheus, I realized I was actually feeling better. Hanging out with Caitlin and Carolina had really cheered me up.
I headed back to the kitchen and wolfed down a yogurt, admiring my work on Operation Fridge Fix. The fridge really did look a hundred times better, and I couldn’t wait for Uncle Joe to see it. I went to the window to find him.
The weather had taken a turn for the worse. A steady rain was falling, and the wind was kicking up serious whitecaps out on the bay, but Uncle Joe was still out there, lying on the rocks by the shore. Why hadn’t he come in? He must have been getting soaked. A kernel of worry dropped into my stomach, and I pulled on a sweater and rain jacket and headed out to check on him.
“Hey,” I called, clomping down the steps. “Uncle Joe!” The wet wind threw the words right back at me.
I crunched over the beach. “Are you okay?” I hollered. The cold rain pattered on the hood of my jacket. Uncle Joe didn’t look up. Why wasn’t he answering? And hey, why was all his recording equipment still set up unprotected on the rocks around him?
Wait. It wasn’t set up. It was tumbled, scattered.
I broke into a run, my shoes slipping on the stones, and then I saw his leg, bent out at an ugly angle, and I saw the rain running down his face.
His eyes were closed. My heart stopped.
He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t be . . .
I dropped down beside him, my fingers squeezing around his arm, and saw a faint cloud rise from his mouth before the wind whipped it away. I gasped with relief. He was alive, at least, but he was out cold and seriously hurt, and . . .
Oh. My. Cantaloupe.
He’d been like this the whole time. While I’d been moping around the cabin, fussing with the fridge, and chatting with Carolina and Caitlin, Uncle Joe had been out here in the freezing rain, desperately needing my help.
Forget being left behind from summer camp. Forget fighting with my best friend.
I’d never felt worse in my life.
But what now? There was no way I could carry him back to the cabin by myself, and I couldn’t risk dragging him over the rocks and making his injuries worse. I hugged my arms around my jacket and scanned the icy hills and sky and bay, fighting off a rising panic.
I couldn’t save him on my own. I needed help. But my go-to help was busy cleaning a dirty alleyway back in Seattle and might not be speaking to me.
I sighed. This was going to be rough, and I was definitely going to have to apologize first, but there was no way around it. I covered Uncle Joe with my sweater and rain jacket and ran shivering back to the cabin. It was time to rally the troops.
Nineteen
The afternoon sun was already sliding down the far side of the sky, and all the heat of the day seemed to have crammed itself into the narrow alley behind the dump. It was swelteringly hot. It was also incredibly filthy, packed with overstuffed garbage bags, old paint cans, rotting food, ten million flies, and Abby, looking tired and grumpy as she pushed at a pile of plastic bottles and cardboard with a broom.
“Oh, look who decided to turn up,” she said as I struggled out of the disgusting sofa. “What an honor.”
I bit back a retort, thinking of Uncle Joe lying on the cold ground up in Alaska. I couldn’t rescue him alone.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m not here to help, I—”
“Oh, peachy,” Abby said, dropping her broom and picking up a shovel. Her fancy braid was fraying at the end. “You’re not here to help. Well, thank you very much for the visit, Ms. Vice Director.” She kicked a tin can at the Dumpster against the wall. It struck with a clang, and a huge hairy something came streaking out from under it and disappeared behind the sofa.
“That’s the rat, by the way,” said Abby. “There is one. I named it Mr. Chompers. If you screw your eyes up really tight he almost looks like a moose.”
“Great. Abby—”
“I keep thinking about what I would do if he actually turned into one and rescued me back to Camp Cantaloupe.” She stabbed the shovel into the pile at her feet.
“Abby—”
“It could happen, you know? I never saw it at camp, so I think the moose owes me, and—”
“Oh, will you shut up about that moose and just let me apologize?!”
It wasn’t how I meant to say it, but there it was. Abby whirled to face me, looking furious, but I charged ahead. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said before, and for trying to control everything, and for treating you like a sidekick and all the rest of it. You were right. I get it, and I’m sorry.” I realized I was almost shouting. “I’m here because I need your help. Uncle Joe is hurt. He fell down on the beach and I’m pretty sure he has a broken leg.”
The anger slid from Abby’s face. She peered at me. “Is this another one of your games?”
I shook my head.
“He’s really hurt?”
“Yes! He’s collapsed on the rocks in the rain, unconscious.”
“Unconscious?!” Abby’s shovel clattered to the ground. “We have to rescue him!”
“Why do you think I’m here?” I said, but she was already racing for the sofa.
Okay. That went better than I’d expected.
“So, what’s your plan?” asked Abby as I crowded after her into Fort McForterson.
“Well, first we need to get him inside,” I said. “And then we’ll just have to—”
“Wait, wait-wait-wait-wait,” said Abby. “Are you serious? If Joe’s really hurt, there’s no way we can do this on our own. We need to get my dad or someone. We need an adult.”
“You know we can’t bring grown-ups in,” I said. “It’s against NAFAFA rules. They’ll shut us down and then Uncle Joe will be trapped up there without any help at all.”
“But this is a real emergency,” said Abby. “And— Hey! Didn’t Noriko say—” She cleared her throat and looked up at the blanket ceiling. “Okay, so we, the members of Camp Pillow Fort, are hereby declaring a genuine, actual, medical emergency. Yes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Telling the Council. Noriko said we could only break the rules for life-or-death emergencies, and this should definitely count.”
“Brilliant,” I said, wishing I’d thought of it. “That changes things. So where can we find—”
We both jumped as the pillow to Fort Comfy flopped open.
“Oh, honestly, Samson,” said Abby as the cat ambled in. “You always have to make an entrance, don’t you?”
Samson danced around happily, dodging Abby’s hands and getting caught on everything until he came to the link to the alley fort. He stopped dead, sniffing furiously, and dropped into a crouch.
“Huh,” said Abby. “Maybe he smells Mr. Chompers.”
“He definitely smells something,” I said as Samson began pawing at the pillow.
Abby grabbed him around the middle. “All right, time to go home, Mr. Director. No rat fights allowed in other people’s forts.”
But Samson wasn’t in the mood to be grabbed.
“Stop squirming,” said Abby. “We’ve got an emergency here, buddy. Ow! Hey!”
“Can I help?” I asked.
“No, I got this. He’s just stuck on— Ow!”
“Abby? You okay?” said a new voice.
We froze. Abby’s head snapped up.
It was one of her brothers.
“I’m fine!” she yelled, throwing herself into the open link, Samson twisting in her arms. “Don’t come in—”
> But there was a swoosh of fabric and a whoosh of air, and Mark’s head and shoulders appeared in the entrance to Fort Comfy, the tassels of Abby’s scarf brushing his face.
He looked at Abby, then past her to the open link.
He blinked. He frowned. He turned his head.
“Hey, Matt!” he yelled. “Get in here!”
“No!” said Abby, but it was too late. There was a pounding of footsteps and Matt appeared, squeezing his way in next to Mark. He blinked and frowned just like his brother, then settled on an identical openmouthed stare. They looked adorable.
Abby went on the offensive.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” she demanded, unhooking Samson from her shirt. “How dare you come in my fort without permission?”
“You yelled,” said Mark. “But what’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” said Abby firmly. I didn’t move a muscle. Maybe Abby could talk her way out of this. Maybe they would forget what they’d seen.
Matt, peering over Abby’s shoulder, crinkled his eyebrows at me through the link. “Really?” he said. “’Cause this sure looks like something to me.” He tilted his head at me and waved. I couldn’t help it—I waved back.
“Ugh!” Abby heaved a dramatic sigh. “Come on, then,” she said, and she backed up into Fort McForterson to sit beside me. Matt and Mark squeezed through Fort Comfy and piled together in the link, Mark on his stomach with Matt leaning on his shoulders. They were so close I could have reached out and ruffled Matt’s hair. It was hard not to.
“So why are you two checking on me?” asked Abby, glaring at her brothers. “Where’s Dad?”
“First tell us what’s going on here,” said Mark.
Abby gave an actual tsk-sigh. “You guys, it’s fine. It’s just this thing. Magic pillow forts or whatever. Get over it. So, where’s Dad?”
Matt grinned at her. “Thanks. Dad’s out on a date with Tamal. He won’t be home until late. He left us in charge since you’re grounded.”
“And I heard you yelling,” said Mark. “So I came to make sure you were okay.”
“So here we are,” said Matt.
“Yes,” said Abby. “And it’s nice to see you, but Maggie and I are in a hurry. We’re on a rescue mission, and unless one of you knows how to heal broken bones—”
“Broken bones?” said Mark.
“Who’s got broken bones?” asked Matt.
“No one you know.”
“Oh, okay,” said Mark. “So, what’s our plan?”
“Are you asking if you can help?” said Abby. “Because you’re not exactly in charge here.”
“They can help,” I said.
“They can?” said Abby.
“Yeah.” With the news that Alex wasn’t around, an idea was coming together in my mind. There really was only one obvious solution. It was time to be decisive.
“Okay, everyone!” I said, clapping my hands. “Here’s what we’re doing. Matt and Mark—”
But my explanation got cut off as a pillow popped out of the wall beside me and a young kid I’d never seen in my life appeared, silhouetted in the light and bustle of the NAFAFA Hub.
“Maggie Hetzger?” said the kid, reading from a clipboard.
“Pheasant!” I snapped, raising my hand. Abby snorted.
The kid looked up. “Ben from the Council would like to know if this is actually a true, legitimate emergency.”
I could have screamed in frustration. I might have.
“YES,” I said, snatching up the loose pillow and strangling it. “What is wrong with you people? This is a real, actual, life-and-death emergency, and we are dealing with it whether anyone on that darn Council likes it or not!” The boy looked shocked. He almost dropped his clipboard.
“And you tell Ben from me,” I barreled on, closing the distance between us, “that if he shuts down one single link in this network before Uncle Joe is safe, I will catch the next bus to the Midwest and search under every pillow on every sofa until I find him. And he will not be pleased to see me!” And I slammed the link shut in his face.
“Ugh,” I said, turning back to the others.
Abby was goggling at me. Mark whistled. Even Samson looked impressed.
“Guess we know who’s in charge around here, then,” said Matt, grinning.
I felt my face turn scarlet. “So, like I was saying,” I said. “Matt and Mark, you two go up to Alaska and stand guard over Uncle Joe. We’ll tell you how to get there.”
“Got it,” said Matt.
“When you say Alaska . . . ,” began Mark, but Abby put her hand in the air.
“What about me?” she asked.
I looked at her. Things had been really weird between us, but this next stage was going to be tricky, and I needed her brains and bravery and friendship more than ever.
“We,” I said, “are going through to Kelly’s fort, Abs. We’re going to get my mom.”
Twenty
Kelly had made some changes to her fort since the makeover. The little table had been moved to the center, and it was covered with crayons, pens, and half-finished drawings instead of our random knickknacks, which were dumped in the old basket. Abby pointed to one of the drawings-in-progress and grinned: a group of cats in a pillow fort on the moon, roasting marshmallows over a candle.
We waited, listening for movement on the other side of the blanket, but everything seemed quiet. Abby crept out of the fort.
“Hi!” said a cheery voice. “Are you my magical pen pal?”
I jumped, nearly knocking over the table, and peeked out. Kelly was sitting up in bed. It looked like she’d been waiting for us.
Abby kept her cool.
“Yes to the second part, no to the first,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’m not magical, although the forts might be; no one’s really sure. My name’s Abby.”
“I’m Kelly.” They shook hands. “I finished your picture.” Kelly held up a drawing of a black-and-white cat floating happily through space. It looked almost exactly nothing like Samson.
Abby smiled. “Aww! I love it, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Are the other people here?”
“Yup,” said Abby, waving for me to come out. “This is Maggie. She’s the other people.”
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi!” Kelly didn’t seem even the tiniest bit nervous to be meeting two new kids, older kids even, who had just crawled out of her personal, private pillow fort. I was impressed.
“So, we’re in a hurry, Kelly,” said Abby, sitting on the bed, “but we owe you an explanation for what’s been going on. Here’s the one-minute version. . . .”
Abby told Kelly everything: building the forts, discovering the links, Alaska, the Council, the attack, how our parents reacted—all of it. Kelly listened, her eyes growing wider and wider.
“And Dr. Hetzger,” she said, turning to me when Abby was finished, “she’s your mom? Weird!”
“Not that weird,” I said. “Your fort’s linked in because my mom took some crimping scissors from my fort and gave them to you.”
“Oh, those are yours?” said Kelly. “Do you want them back?”
“No, thanks,” I said. “They were actually my mom’s, but they’re yours now. They’re your token.”
“If we took those scissors out of your fort, we wouldn’t be able to visit you at all anymore,” explained Abby. “It’s having the scissors here that makes it possible. That’s what ‘token’ means.”
“This is all pretty confusing,” said Kelly.
“It is,” agreed Abby, “and if you want, we can go over all of it again once we rescue Maggie’s uncle Joe.”
“And Uncle Joe needs a doctor,” I said, walking over to the door, “which is why we’re here to get my mom.”
I had my hand on the doorknob when Kelly shouted.
“Stop!” she said. “You can’t go out there. You don’t know where she is. You’ll get in trouble with the doctors.”
“Ooh! She’s ri
ght, Mags,” said Abby. “There are probably lots of grown-ups wandering around, and we’re not exactly supposed to be here.”
“But we have to find her,” I insisted. I was getting more and more anxious by the second. How long had it been since I’d left Uncle Joe all on his own? We’d been wasting time.
“And we will,” said Abby. “But we need a plan.”
“What about this?” Kelly pulled a push button on a cord off the wall beside her. “It’s my emergency button. I’m only supposed to use it for big emergencies, but this probably counts. Dr. Hetzger should be who answers it.”
“Perfect!” said Abby. “You’re good at plans, Kelly. But what should we say when she shows up? How are we going to convince her to get in the fort?”
“We’ll just have to wing it,” I said. “We’ve got to do this. Ready?”
Kelly grinned and pressed the emergency button.
Twelve seconds later my mom burst through the door.
“Kelly? What is— MAGGIE?!” She goggled, spinning from me, to Kelly holding the emergency button, to Abby, who waved, and back to me again. “What do you think you’re doing here? You’re supposed to be at home. You’re supposed to be grounded!” I opened my mouth, but she cut me off. “No, never mind, you can explain later.” She crossed to the bed and put a hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about this, Kelly, but I’m proud of you for using the button and calling for help.”
“I wasn’t calling for help,” said Kelly.
“You weren’t?”
“No,” said Kelly. “I pressed the button so you’d come to Alaska with us.”
I looked at Abby in surprise. When did we say Kelly was coming with us? Apparently she had some plans of her own.
“That sounds like a nice game,” said my mom. “But this isn’t a good time for games.”
“It’s not a game, Ms. H.,” said Abby.
My mom’s jaw tightened. “That is enough, Abigail. You two are going to leave, now, and Kelly is going to get some rest, and there’s nothing more to say.”
“What if I do this?” said Kelly, and she jumped out of bed.
