“No, not at all. I believe it. All of it.”
Tick couldn’t suppress the huge grin that shot across his face. “Really?”
His dad nodded. “There’s something I didn’t tell you last night. I, uh, saw you talking to the little man you called Rutger. I saw for myself he was real. And the whole thing about those gnats. I can’t get that out of my mind. Then there’s the letter from Alaska. I know you don’t know anyone up there.” He shook his head. “It’s a lot of evidence, son. A lot.”
“So you—”
His dad held up a hand, cutting off Tick. “But that’s not why I’m convinced.”
“It’s not?”
“No.” His dad leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Tick, I’ve known you for thirteen years, and I can’t think of a time when you’ve ever lied to me. You’re too smart to lie, too good of a person. I trust you, and as I looked into your eyes as you told me this crazy story, I knew it was true. Now, I wanted some time to think about it and such, but I knew.”
Tick wanted to say something cheesy and profound, but all that came out was, “Cool.”
His dad laughed. “Yeah, cool. I can feel it deep down that this is important and that you were chosen to help because you’re a special kid. There’s always been something almost magical about you, Tick, and I think I knew that someday your life would take a turn for the unique. We’ve never really talked about it, but I’ve always felt like you had a guardian angel or some kind of special gift. These letters and clues and all this weird stuff has to be related somehow.”
Tick didn’t really know what his dad was talking about, and didn’t care—he was too excited about finally having someone nearby who knew what was going on. “So you’ll help me figure it out?”
“Now, maybe I can help a little here and there with the riddles but”—he pointed a finger at Tick—“you better believe I’m going to be the toughest bodyguard anyone’s ever had. All this dangerous stuff scares me too, you know?” He reached out and gave his patented bear hug, then leaned back. “So where do we go from here?”
Tick shrugged. “I guess we just keep getting the clues and hope we can figure everything out by May sixth.”
His dad scratched his chin, deep in thought. “Yeah . . .” He seemed doubtful or troubled.
“What?”
“I was thinking maybe this M.G. guy expects you to be a little more proactive. You know, dig a little deeper to find out what’s going on.”
“Dad, I can tell you’re thinking really hard ’cause it looks like you might bust a vein.”
His dad ignored the joke. “You have two weeks off from school for Christmas, right?”
“Right.”
“And I have plenty of vacation time . . .” He paused. “But what would we do about your mom? I don’t want her involved in this. She’d worry herself to the deathbed quicker than she can make a batch of peanut-butter cookies.”
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
His dad’s eyes focused on Tick. “I think we should do a little investigating.”
“Investigating?”
“Yeah.” He reached out and squeezed Tick’s shoulder. “In Alaska.”
By the next evening, Edgar had it all arranged, in no small part due to his clever and cunning mind, he kept telling himself. After using the Internet to discover that Macadamia, Alaska, was only three hours’ drive from where his Aunt Mabel lived in Anchorage, everything fell into place. Edgar hadn’t seen his aunt in years, and his mother had told him awhile back that Mabel’s health wasn’t doing so well. She’d stayed in Alaska even after her fisherman husband died over a decade ago, insisting that her failing heart, hemorrhoids, and severely bunion-infested feet would make a move impossible.
The plan was set, the tickets purchased, the rental car reserved.
In ten days, just after Christmas, Edgar and Tick would fly to Anchorage, Alaska, for a three-day visit with Aunt Mabel.
Lorena had grilled Edgar on how crazy it sounded to go on vacation on such short notice, but Edgar played it cool, claiming he’d been thinking about his aunt ever since Tick had gotten the letter from Alaska. And the winter break gave them the perfect opportunity.
He also used the excuse that because the tickets were expensive, only two people could afford to go. Plus Tick had been a baby the last time he had seen his great-aunt, so he didn’t know her at all. Kayla was too young to appreciate the trip, and Lorena and Lisa seemed more than pleased to not have to go to a bitterly cold land of ice and snow in the middle of winter when the sun would only peek above the horizon for a couple of hours a day. Finally, Edgar pulled out all the stops, asking Lorena if she really was in the mood to hear Mabel tell her the fifty top things she’d done wrong in her life.
Lorena kissed Edgar and told him to have a good time.
When Edgar told the news to his aunt over the phone, she almost blew up his left eardrum with her shrieks of excitement. Of course, she soon settled down and told him to be sure and bring lots of warm clothes, to remember his toothbrush, to have earmuffs for baby Atticus, and about one hundred other pieces of advice.
All in all, the plan fell into place quite nicely.
Edgar only hoped that once they got to Alaska, Mabel would quit talking long enough to allow them to investigate the town of Macadamia.
Someone had sent that first letter.
And Edgar meant to find out who.
Chapter
19
An Odd Christmas Present
Tick had felt so relieved that his dad believed his story and wanted to help, the whole Alaska expedition didn’t really hit him until the next day when his dad told him he’d bought airline tickets. His dad seemed to think they could find out who mailed the original letter and get more information from him or her. Tick thought a trip to Alaska seemed plenty exciting all by itself, and he could barely stand having to wait ten more days.
Every day of Christmas vacation, Tick and Sofia exchanged e-mails, finally getting into a consistent groove of answering questions and learning more about each other. Tick could tell Sofia was feisty and confident—not someone to mess with unless you wanted a nice kick to the shin, or worse. She was also very smart, and Tick rarely noticed a language barrier. He felt like they were similar in many ways and he found himself liking her very much. They even played chess online, though it took almost a week to finish one game because of the time difference.
Sofia was the first to figure out the last piece of the fourth clue—the first letter of the special place. At first, Tick worried they were violating some rule by helping each other with the clues, but Sofia pointed out that none of the letters said they couldn’t. In her opinion, the guy in charge should be impressed they’d had the initiative to seek out others and collaborate.
Tick felt dumb when Sofia told him the answer.
I only ask that the name of the place begin with a letter coming after A and before Z but nowhere in between.
Tick already suspected the clue pointed them to a cemetery, but it was Sofia who explained that cemetery began with a “C,” a letter that was certainly after A and before Z in the alphabet. Also, the letter was nowhere to be found in the word “between.” That’s what the sentence had meant, which now seemed painfully obvious to Tick.
They wondered about which cemetery to go to, since any decent-sized town had more than one. But the wording of the clue made it clear that the particular place they went to didn’t matter, as long as it was a cemetery. Sofia would choose one in her hometown at the appointed time, and Tick would do likewise.
Of course, both of them recognized how strange it was that they had to go to a graveyard but that it didn’t matter which one. But everything about the whole mess was odd, so they were getting used to it.
Tick was really happy to have found Sofia; for the first time in a long while he felt like he had a friend. Yeah, she lived in Italy and liked to beat up boys, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He couldn’t wait to get the next clue and talk to her about it.
On Christmas Day, he got his wish.
It had been a perfect couple of days. Snow fell in billions of soft, fluffy flakes, blanketing the yard and the house in pure white, covering up the dirt and grime that had begun to show up after a couple of weeks without a fresh snowstorm. The classic songs of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra floated through the house like warm air from the fire. Tick’s mom went all out in the kitchen, cooking up everything from honey-baked ham to stuffed bell peppers, cheesy potatoes to fruit salad, chocolate-covered peanut butter balls to her famous Christmas cookies, which were full of coconut, butterscotch, pecans, walnuts, and several other yummy surprises.
Tick was stuffed and happy, remembering once again why the holiday season had always been his favorite time of year. And it only helped matters that he’d be heading to Alaska in a couple of days. Life was sweet.
After the hustle and buzz and laughter of Christmas morning, tattered wrapping paper lying about in big colorful piles, Tick sat back on the couch, staring at the new goodies he’d received: three video games, some new books, a couple of gift certificates, lots of candy. He usually felt a twinge of sadness once all the presents had been opened, knowing it would be 365 long days until the next Christmas. But today he felt none of that. He felt content and warm, excited and happy.
The mystery of M.G. and his Twelve Clues had brought a new light to Tick’s life and, despite the dangers that came with the letters, he’d never felt more alive.
He looked up at the decorated tree, its dozens of white lights sparkling their reflection in the red metallic balls and silver tinsel. Something square and bulky tucked behind a large nutcracker ornament caught his attention. He’d looked at this seven-foot tree a thousand times in the last month, and he knew the thing buried in the branches hadn’t been there before this morning.
Instantly alert, he looked around to see what his family was doing. His mom had her nose in a book, his dad was in the kitchen, Lisa had earphones on listening to her new CDs, and Kayla played with her kitchen set, making pretend pancakes and eggs. Trying to look nonchalant, Tick got up from the couch and walked over to the tree, staring at the spot that had caught his eyes.
A box, wrapped in an odd paper with pictures of fairies and dwarves and dragons, was snuggled between two branches, held up by a string of lights. The words, “From M.G.” were clearly scrawled across the box in blue ink. Tick looked around one more time before he snatched the unopened present and stealthily placed it with his other things. Then, grabbing a big armful of stuff, including the mystery box, he headed upstairs to his room.
He sat on his bed and stared at the strange wrapping paper. The present itself was very light and he felt certain the next clue must lie inside. But who had put it there, and when? He ripped the paper off a plain white cardboard box. After flipping open the lid, Tick saw exactly what he’d expected.
The fifth clue. He pulled out the cardstock paper and read the message.
Everything will fail unless you say the magic words exactly correct. It behooves me to remind you that I cannot tell you the words, nor will I in the face of any amount of undue pressure you may apply toward me. Which, of course, would be quite difficult for you to do since you don’t know who I am and since I live in a place you cannot go.