“Norbert’s come to save you!” he screamed over the howling, rushing wind. “I’ll pull you through the window!”
Tick’s dad immediately scooted back into the car to gain solid footing, then grabbed Tick by both arms, yanking him over to his side and toward Norbert’s open window. “You first!” he yelled.
With no time to lose, Tick carefully inched across the hood, gripping the metal with the tips of his icy cold fingers, his dad helping him along with a firm hold. The other car was literally a foot away from theirs, running side by side like insane drag racers. Before Tick knew it, Norbert had reached out and grabbed him, pulling him through the window and into his car. He groaned and grunted as he rolled past Norbert and fell onto the floor of the backseat, suddenly safe and warm, feeling the sharp corners of his journal poking him in his side.
He scrambled up and onto the seat, looking toward his dad with a sudden burst of terror. His dad had half-crawled onto the hood, gripping the edge of the door bar with one arm and reaching out for Norbert with the other. The look on his dad’s face made Tick hurt inside. He had never seen anything close to the fear and panic and sheer horror that now masked his favorite person’s normally cheerful and bright demeanor. The man looked as terrified as any kid would be, and it scared Tick.
“Get my dad!” he cried. “Please save my dad!”
But Norbert didn’t need any further instruction. He was on his knees, leaning out the window, grabbing at the large man with both hands. Tick knew his dad had to weigh three times what he did, and it wouldn’t be easy to pull him off the other car and into this one. Not able to breathe, he looked ahead.
The road curved sharply to the right, just a hundred feet from where they were.
“Hurry!” he yelled.
Norbert suddenly jerked back into the car, his arms gripped tightly, pulling on Tick’s dad as best he could. Tick watched as his dad’s hands, then arms, then head, then shoulders squeezed through the open window, Norbert screaming with the effort.
“I’m stuck!” Dad yelled. “My big fat tubby body is stuck!”
“No!” Tick yelled. He reached forward and grabbed his dad’s shirt, yanking and pulling as hard as he could. “You can do it, Dad. Suck in your breath!”
“Son, I… can’t, I’m stuck!”
Norbert and Tick kept working, gripping and regripping, heaving and reheaving. Though he couldn’t bear to look, Tick knew they only had precious seconds left until it was all over.
“Pull away from the other car and slow down!” Norbert yelled to the driver. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Higginbottom. We won’t let go of you. Keep your feet up!”
The driver veered to the left as he slowly applied the brakes, though it seemed like the worst roller coaster ride in history to Tick. His dad would be roadkill if he slipped out of the window.
“Don’t let go of Big Bear,” Dad whispered to Tick, actually breaking a smile. “Please, don’t let go of me.”
Tick couldn’t talk, he just squeezed his grip even tighter.
Just as the car slowed to a snail’s pace, they heard a horrendous screeching and metallic crunch as the other car slammed into something they couldn’t see. A bright flash lit the night around them as a terrible explosion rocked the air.
Even when they finally came to a complete standstill, and cheers erupted from everyone, including his dad, Tick couldn’t let go. He scrambled around Norbert and hugged his dad’s arms and shoulders and head like he hadn’t seen him in ten years, bursting into tears. After a very long moment, his dad finally spoke up.
“Professor, do you think you could give me a push now? I’m, uh, kind of stuck.”
Chapter 25
The Girl with Black Hair
Frazier stood in the snow-swept graveyard, shivering and rubbing his hands together as he waited for Mistress Jane to wink him back to the Thirteenth Reality. He’d sent the nanolocator signal several minutes ago, but she often took her time about these things. She always wanted to make sure people knew the Mistress was in charge; she helped others at her convenience, not theirs.
A crunch in the snow behind him made Frazier spin around to see who had intruded on his waiting ground. He almost lost his lunch when he saw what stood there.
Where did she come from? She must be-
He didn’t have time to finish his thought before the gigantic woman covered his nose and mouth with a foul-smelling piece of cloth, gripping it in place with her huge hand.
As he faded into blackness, he couldn’t help but wonder if Mistress Jane would even miss him.
~
Tick, his journal now clasped in his right hand, stared in disbelief at what could’ve been his death.
Next to him, his dad shook his head, arms folded as he stared down into the gully. “Boy, I’m sure glad I paid ten bucks for insurance. The rental company can pay for that mess.”
They stood with Norbert on the side of the road, watching the licking flames as the once out-of-control car burned. When it ran off the road, the car had shot off a steep embankment and crashed into a rocky ditch, crumpling into a mass of metal and broken glass, consumed by gasoline fire.
Despite the cold, Tick was still sweating from the intensity of their last-second escape. As soon as their rescue car had come to a stop and they’d managed to dislodge his dad, they’d run to this spot, unable to believe that if Norbert had shown up only a few seconds later, Tick and his dad might be buried somewhere in the wreckage below.
“Norbert, I don’t know how we can ever-” Dad said.
The postal worker waved his hand like swatting at flies. “Not another word, Mr. Higginbottom, not another word. I just a-did what any good upstanding citizen would’ve done in the circumstances. You folks made me feel like myself again. That’s thanks enough.”
Tick finally broke his stare from the burning car and looked at Norbert. “How did you know we needed help? And who are those people in the car back there?” The driver and his daughter had not gotten out yet, probably still in shock over what they’d just seen. “Why would they want to save us?”
Norbert smiled, a barely noticeable crack in his still-panicked face. “Those are some good questions you’re a-spouting out, boy, good questions indeed. I reckon they’re in the same boat as you and your daddy, here. Back at the house, I’d just noticed a suspicious car pull onto the road to follow you folks when this fancy man and his little girl showed up, a-looking for the same stuff as you. Let’s go talk to them.” He gestured to the destroyed car. “Gazing down there won’t fix a thing. What’s done is done. Come on.”
They walked back to the car and to the people who had saved their lives. The driver’s side door popped open when they were still a few feet away; a tall, nicely dressed man stepped out, smoothing his greased blond hair back as he did so.
He bowed slightly as they approached, closing his eyes for a long second. “Good evening, sirs.” His accent was thick, maybe German. “I apologize that we have not formally made acquaintance-if you’ll excuse me.”
Tick’s dad had moved forward to shake the man’s hand, but stepped back in surprise as the stranger hurriedly walked around the car and opened the passenger-side door, bowing in deference to the person inside. Baffled, Tick stared as a girl about his age got out of the car and waved at them. Even though they’d been a couple of feet apart during the few crazy seconds it took to save his dad, Tick had not gotten a good look at the girl until now, thanks to the car’s headlights that were still shining brightly in the darkness.
She had an olive complexion and long dark hair framing her brown eyes and thin face. She was maybe an inch or two shorter than Tick and wore clothes that seemed like nothing special-he’d almost expected a princess the way her blond companion acted toward her.
“Hi there,” she said, her gaze focused on Tick.
She also had an accent, but very subtle. “Hi,” he answered. “Uh, thanks for saving us-to you and your… dad.”
The girl laughed. “Oh, he’s not my
dad. He’s my butler.”
The man jerked his head stiffly in another bow. “It is a pleasure. My name is Fruppenschneiger, but you may call me Frupey.”
It took every ounce of willpower for Tick not to laugh. Frupey?
His dad lumbered forward, his legs obviously sore from the car ordeal, and vigorously shook the hands of Frupey and the girl. “Thank you, thank you so much. I still can’t believe how all this happened. Thank you for saving us.”
Frupey answered in his formal voice. “It was our pleasure, so that Miss Pacini may receive the sixth clue.”
Tick felt his stomach lift off from its normal position and lodge itself in his throat. “What?” he croaked. “Did you just say…” He looked at the dark-haired girl, who was smiling like she’d just been crowned Miss Universe.
“Hello, Americanese Boy,” she said, holding her hand out. “It’s about time we finally met face to face, huh?”
Tick couldn’t believe it.
Sofia.
Chapter 26
Time Constraints
It took only a few seconds for Tick and Sofia to break past the thin wall of awkwardness; they did, after all, know each other very well from their e-mail exchanges. They sat in the back of the car and talked nonstop during the drive back to Norbert’s home. Tick’s dad squeezed in the backseat next to them, butting in every now and then to ask a question or two.
Sofia had never given Tick a hint in her e-mails that she was from a wealthy family, and nothing about her screamed it out, either. She said she’d planned all along to surprise Tick in Alaska, figuring she might as well go along, too. The cost of the trip was no problem for her family, and as long as Frupey the Butler went with her, Sofia’s parents pretty much let her do whatever she wanted.
“So how in the world did you get so rich?” Tick asked when they reached the town.
“My ancestors invented spaghetti.”
Tick laughed, but cut it short when Sofia looked at him with a stone-dead face. “Wait… you’re serious?”
Sofia finally let out a chuckle and slapped Tick on the shoulder. Hard. “No, but I got you good, didn’t I? Actually, my grandfather would say his father did invent it, or at least made it perfect. Ever heard of Pacini Spaghetti?”
“Uh… no. Sorry.”
Sofia huffed. “Americans. All you eat are hamburgers and French fries.” She pinched all five fingers of her right hand together in a single point, shaking it with each word; it was just like something Tick had seen once in a mafia movie about an Italian mob boss. Sofia even made a small “uh” sound after her words sometimes, like “and-uh” and “French-uh.”
“Hey, I eat spaghetti all the time,” Tick argued. “With authentic Ragu Sauce.”
“Authentic…” Sofia pursed her lips. “Then I guess you’ve also never heard of Pacini Sauce. What is this…
Rag-oo? It sounds like some kind of disease.”
“It tastes pretty good, but, I tell you what,” Tick said, “you send me some of your stuff and I’ll try it.”
“Frupey!” she barked at her butler, driving the car.
“Yes, Miss Pacini?” he said, looking into the rearview mirror.
“Please send three cases of our noodles and sauce to these poor Americans.”
“I’ll do it the second we return, Miss.”
“Thank you.” She looked back at Tick. “He’s such a good butler. You really should get one.”
“Yeah, right,” Tick said, sharing a laugh with his dad. “The only thing my family’s invented is Edgar Stew, and trust me,”-he lowered his voice into a pretend whisper-“it wouldn’t sell.”
“At least your mom’s a good cook,” his dad chimed in, ignoring Tick’s insult. “I bet we could get rich off her if we knew how.”
“What,” Sofia teased, “does she make a good hamburger and French fry?”
“Do you really think that’s all we eat?” Tick asked.
“Oh, sorry, I forgot. She makes a good hot dog, too?”
Even as they laughed, Tick couldn’t get over the craziness of it all. Here he was, joking around with a girl from Italy in the back of a butler-driven car, in the state of Alaska, having just escaped from a runaway Oldsmobile.
His life had certainly changed forever.
Once they got back to Norbert’s, Tick’s dad called Aunt Mabel and told her they wouldn’t be back until the next day, then he called the police and began the long process of dealing with the car accident. Frupey and Norbert scrounged around in the kitchen, trying to find food for everyone. Car chases evidently make people hungry, Tick thought as his own stomach rumbled.
Tick and Sofia sat together on the pitiful couch in the front room, discussing the latest clue they’d received. They had to use Sofia’s copy because Tick’s bit the bullet along with the rental car-he’d failed to slip it back into his journal during the frantic rush of excitement. The only light in the room came from a junky old lamp without a shade, its bare light bulb blinding if you looked at it directly.
“Well, it’s obviously just like the first clue,” Tick said as Sofia scanned the words again. “Except this one tells us the time instead of the day.”
“You Americans are so smart,” she replied. “How did you ever figure that out?”
“Man, you sure are smart-alecky for a rich Italian girl.”
“Girl?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Do I look like a little baby doll to you?”
Tick laughed. “I never would’ve guessed you’d actually be scarier in real life than in the e-mail.”
Sofia elbowed him hard in the stomach. “Just remember what I told you-I beat up seventeen boys last summer. No one messes with a Pacini.”
“It’s okay, I don’t usually go around picking fights with gi-, I mean… young women… who own spaghetti companies.”
“That’s better, Americanese Boy. Now let’s figure this out, huh?”
“Sounds good, Italian… ese… Woman.” Tick didn’t understand why she could call him boy, but he couldn’t call her girl. He wanted to laugh again-for some odd reason, he felt really comfortable around her-but he didn’t particularly want another jab to the stomach. He took the sixth clue from her instead and read through it again while she stared into space for a minute, thinking.
Recite the magic words at exactly seventeen minutes past the quarter hour following the six-hour mark before midnight plus one hundred and sixty-six minutes minus seven quarter-hours plus a minute times seven, rounded to the nearest half-hour plus three. Neither a second before nor three seconds after.
(Yes, I’m fully aware it will take you a second or two to say the magic words, but I’m talking about the precise time you begin to say it. Quit being so snooty.)
Once again, M.G.’s sense of humor leaked through the message, and Tick found himself eager to meet the man Norbert had already met. At least now they knew his real name.
Master George. Sounds like something from Star Wars.
“How long did it take you to figure out the first clue?” Tick asked.
“How long it take you?” Sofia responded. Every once in a while, she messed up her English, but for the most part, she knew it perfectly.
“Once I sat down to do it, maybe an hour.”
“Then it took me half an hour.”
“Yeah, right.”
Sofia gave him an evil grin and raised her eyebrows. “Should we race on this one? Like a… Master George Olympics.”
Tick had assumed they’d work together to solve it, but her idea suddenly sounded very fun. If I was a nerd before, I’ve hit rock-bottom geek stature by now, he thought.
“You’re on,” he said, ready for the challenge.
“I’m on what?” she asked. “Speak English, please.”
Tick rolled his eyes. “Here, we’ll put the clue on this little coffee table, where we can both see it, okay? Neither one of us are allowed to touch it. I’ll run and get some paper and a pencil from Norbert so you can have something to write on.” He stood up.
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“What about you?” she asked.
Tick held his journal out. “I’ll write in this-why didn’t you bring yours?”
Sofia shrugged. “I got tired of carrying it around. Who needs it?” She tapped her head with a finger. “It’s all stored up here anyway. So, what about a prize? What does the winner get?”
“Hmm, good question.” Tick scratched his neck, faltering when he realized he wasn’t wearing his scarf-he must’ve lost it in the wind after they busted the windshield.
“What’s wrong?” Sofia asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing.” He paused. His scarf was gone, and Sofia hadn’t said a thing about his birthmark-maybe he could actually survive without… no. He had an extra one at home, and deep down, Tick knew it would be around his neck when he returned to school.
“Tick,” Sofia said, staring up at him, “did your brain freeze?”
“No, no… it’s just… never mind.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it-the winner gets to visit the house of the loser next summer. But, uh, you have to pay for it either way because you’re rich.”
“Wow, what a deal.”
“I’ll be back in a sec with the stuff.”
A couple of minutes later, pencils in hand, the race began.
Just as he’d done with the first clue, Tick jotted down the phrases from the sixth clue that seemed to go together logically. Once he’d done that, he assigned letters to them to indicate the order they should be calculated. It seemed easy now that he’d gone through the process before.
The biggest problem was determining which midnight the clue referred to-the one that began the day of May sixth or the one at the end of it? Then he realized whatever time he ended up with probably wouldn’t be midnight, so it really didn’t matter.
He nervously glanced over at Sofia, who was doing a lot more thinking than writing, tapping her pencil against her forehead, staring at the clue.
I’m way ahead of her, he thought, then continued his scribbles.
A couple of minutes later, the page in his journal looked like this:
The Journal of Curious Letters 1r-1 Page 14