“Vice Director?” said Ben. He had a sharp, high voice. “The Alliance rules specifically state that only the very highest-ranking member of a group is permitted to solicit the Council under these circumstances.”
My eyebrows bounced to the top of my forehead. What nine-year-old threw that kind of vocabulary around? And pronounced their consonants so precisely?
“That’s true,” said Carolina, stepping forward. “And I did my best, but I wasn’t able to convince the Director of Camp Pillow Fort to come along.”
“Why not?”
“Um, because he’s a cat.”
It was like someone flipped a switch. The atmosphere of regal mystery swirling around the group shattered as Miesha shouted “Ha!” and slapped the table; Murray squealed “Aww!” and put his hands to his cheeks; and Noriko began giggling, then laughing so hard she was practically crying.
Ben was the last to let his statue pose drop, but he wasn’t smiling. “You broke!” he said angrily. “You were all supposed to stay in character! We were doing so well!”
“I’m sorry,” said Murray, his palms still pressed to his face in delight. “But their leader’s a kitty. A kitty!”
“Hey, we tried,” said Miesha, stretching her shoulders and beaming. “Good effort, Drama Committee. But now it’s Snack Committee time!” She ducked under the table and reappeared with a giant plastic tub of popcorn and a jumbo carton of goldfish crackers.
Noriko was still half giggling. “Sorry! Sorry,” she said, waving a hand at Ben. “I was just picturing Carolina sitting down and carefully explaining to this cat exactly why the Alliance rules require him to come to our mee-hee-ting . . . and the cat looking up at her—like—!” And she was back to rocking with laughter.
Carolina shrugged in a Yeah, pretty much gesture.
“Hey, this is serious!” said Ben. He jabbed a finger at his clipboard. “These rules are in place for a reason. I bet I could’ve got this director to come to the meeting.”
“No, you couldn’t,” said Miesha around a mouthful of popcorn, “because having a cat in here would mean I’d be sneezing for the next three days.” She turned to me. “You have to admit it’s a weird choice, Maggie Hetzger. Do you have any other pets in Camp Pillow Fort?”
“Well, no, I don’t— I mean—Samson’s not mine.” I stammered. I was completely thrown off by their abrupt change in tone. So, what? That first part was all an act? An act to impress or scare newcomers? What sort of game were these Council kids playing?
“Just because someone’s got allergies . . . ,” said Ben grumpily.
“He’s just jealous because the rest of us have pets and he doesn’t,” Miesha informed me. “Do you want me to bring Sprinkles in again, Ben? Would that make you feel better?”
“All right, you two,” said Noriko, pulling herself together. “We do have an actual meeting to get through here.”
“Remember how fluffy he is?” Miesha continued.
“So fluffy!” said Murray. “The fluffiest there ever was!”
“That’s right,” said Miesha, throwing him a goldfish cracker. She looked around. “Hey, why am I the only member of the Snack Committee doing my job tonight?”
Ben groaned dramatically. “Because I did all the work on the Drama Committee, remember?”
“You are the Drama Committee,” muttered Noriko. Murray giggled.
Ben glowered at them, but he ducked under the table like Miesha, returning with a tub of red licorice and a bag of marshmallows. “None of you deserve this,” he grumbled, pulling the lid off the licorice.
Carolina nudged me as the others dove at the candy. “Sprinkles is Miesha’s new puppy,” she whispered. “She brought him in to visit last week, and Ben sort of fell in love. It’s been pretty funny.”
“And it’s not even fair,” Ben was saying as I tuned back in. “I can run the entire Great Plains Sofa Circle with an iron fist, but my mom thinks I’m not mature enough to have a simple pet.”
“Well, everything you just said proves she’s right,” said Miesha reasonably, waving a piece of licorice at him. “Pets aren’t simple, and you shouldn’t need an iron fist to run your network.”
Noriko raised her hand. “Hello? Seriously, we still have work to do.”
“I run my network with a Ouija board,” Murray said, to no one in particular.
Ben scowled at Miesha around his mouthful of marshmallows. “Just because you let your network run wild . . . ,” he mumbled.
“Oh, you mean have fun? Thanks! My network is the most fun, and everyone knows it.”
“Oh, give me a—”
“Enough!” said Noriko, standing up and banging on the table, the hoops in her ears swinging. “It’s meeting time, people!” The other Council members fell silent. Ben was still glowering. Murray and Miesha grinned.
Noriko sat back down and turned her sunglasses on me. “So, yes, here we are—and Ben, seriously, we can let the leadership rule slide this one time.” Ben shook his head and scribbled something on his clipboard. “You’ll do fine for talking business, Maggie Hetzger. Welcome to the Hub.”
“Thanks,” I said. Deep breath, Maggie, reclaim your cool. “What’s the Hub?”
“This place. Here. Where you are. The central pillow fort for all of North America. This is where the regional networks meet up, the same way your fort is where all your links meet.”
“It is?”
“Wait,” said Ben, holding up a hand. “You hadn’t figured that out yet? About your very own forts?”
“Um, no?”
“Wow.” The corners of his mouth curled. “That should be obvious, even to a complete amateur like you.”
Oof. What was this kid’s problem? “Well, it’s not,” I said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And that’s totally okay,” said Murray, lobbing a marshmallow at Ben’s head.
Miesha leaned forward. “Maybe I can help, Maggie Hetzger. Try this. Close your eyes—no, really. Okay, take a deep breath. Now, imagine you’re a dolphin. You are swimming through ancient seas. You are bathed in rainbows and starlight. Everything is beautiful. A purple unicorn swims by, leaving a trail of shimmering hearts. To your right is a pink-and-yellow panda. The midnight-blue ocean—”
“Miesha,” I
