“Yeah . . .”
“And have you ever searched the cushions and not been able to find it?”
“Yeah!”
“Well, guess where a lot of it ends up.”
The strange metallic clinking coming from behind the garage-door-size wall pillow danced through my mind.
“Here?”
“Here. I’ll show you the collection fort later if there’s time. Come on, we’d better get back.”
“But how does—”
“Later, really. We have to go.”
As we walked up the hall, familiar names on the plaques kept catching my eye: Frida Kahlo, Leonard Nimoy, Emily Dickinson, Alex Trebek.
“Alex Trebek?” I said, stopping at a blue-and-white pillow with Peter Rabbit hopping across it.
Murray looked over. “What about him?”
“Isn’t he the one from that TV show?”
“Yup. He came through here when he was our age, and now he’s one of the most famous Canadians ever.”
“Alex Trebek is Canadian?”
“A lot of people are, Maggie.” Murray started up the hall again. “So now you see,” he said, returning to his tour-guide voice, “why it’s so important we make sure new members deserve to join our group. NAFAFA is one of the most exclusive secret societies in the world, and you’ll need to prove that you and your network are worthy to join.”
“How do we prove it?” I asked as we pushed past the tapestry into the Hub.
Murray attempted a Bobby-wink over his shoulder.
“That’s for Noriko to tell you.”
We returned to the platform, where Noriko, Miesha, and Ben stood around the table, studying a large sheet of paper spread open between them. Noriko jumped and rolled it up hastily as we approached, but not before I thought I recognized the lumpy shape sketched across it.
“Wait, wasn’t that Camp Pillow Fort?” I said. “Is that a map of our network?”
Three pairs of silver sunglasses turned in my direction. Murray nudged me and shook his head. I ignored him.
“It looked funny,” I pressed on. “We’ve got a map too, and the shape the forts make when you draw them together is different. Yours had extra lumps. Can I see it again?”
Ben turned to Miesha, who turned to Noriko.
“Let’s deal with our business first,” she said. “We can talk about other issues later.”
They all sat down, and Murray directed me to a new chair tucked beside his. I scooched in. It felt right, sitting at the table with the other kids in charge. They might have had more experience, but I ran a network too, just like they did. When it came down to it, we were equals.
Noriko folded her hands. “So, Maggie Hetzger,” she said. “If Murray has done his job, you should now have some idea what NAFAFA is all about. This is a historic organization with a grand history, and it is our duty to protect its strength and integrity for the fort builders who will come after us. They, after all, will be our judges, and we cannot let them down.”
She sounded exactly like Murray doing his tour-guide voice. The other Council members were nodding.
“As I said before, your network has come together unusually quickly. Now it’s time to make things official. So as NAFAFA applicants, you and the other members of Camp Pillow Fort are hereby forbidden from: one, forging new links; two, adding new forts; and three, passing linked-fort information to a single other person until your admission into the Alliance has been approved.”
I felt my mouth fall open. So much for being equals. “What?!” I said. “But Camp Pillow Fort is mine—I mean, mine and Abby’s. What makes you think you can tell us what to do with our own personal network?”
“Hey, easy,” said Miesha. “This is how it’s been done for centuries. And it’s for your own good. You wouldn’t be able to cope with more links right now, anyway.”
“We totally could!”
“No, you totally couldn’t.” Miesha shook her head, smiling. “I know you think that, but trust me, I manage sixty-four links in my network. That’s on top of school and friends and everything else—”
“Like Sprinkles the puppy,” piped up Murray.
“—like Sprinkles the puppy,” continued Miesha. “And it’s a ton of work, even with four years of experience. It’s really better to start slow.”
“Miesha’s correct,” Ben said. “You’re hopelessly behind everyone here, so you should just do as you’re told. It’s not like you have a choice, anyway. Our rules must be followed.”
I scowled at him, and at his overalls. This kid sure was good at getting under my skin. Why was he always so rude? And for that matter, what was a little boy like him doing on the Council in the first place?
“Okay, how old are you anyway, Ben?” I asked impulsively. “Aren’t you kind of young to be sitting at the big kids’ table?”
Miesha threw back her head and laughed. Murray bopped me under the table with his foot. Ben smiled. It wasn’t particularly friendly.
“I’m nine,” he said. “I’m the youngest Council member ever. And someday I’ll be the youngest head of Council, too.”
“Maybe, buddy, maybe,” said Noriko. She turned to me. “Ben’s a bit of a special case.”
“If you say so,” I said. “But hey, Murray said my group was a special case too. Does that mean I get some say about the rules?”
There were three seconds of silence, then . . .
“Way to give it away, Murray!”
“We agreed not to say anything!”
“That is completely against regulations!” Ben was on his feet, waving his clipboard. “You could be kicked off the Council for that.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” said Murray, holding up his hands and looking alarmed. “Easy with the regulations, eh? All I said was their group is a special case. I didn’t give away anything important.”
“Telling them they’re a special case is plenty!” said Ben. He rounded on Noriko. “What are you going to do about this?”
Noriko tilted her head, considering, then shrugged. “Nothing. If Murray only mentioned the situation to Maggie Hetzger, I don’t think it’s a disciplinary matter.”
“Thank you,” said Murray. “Ben, sit down.”
“This is completely ridiculous!” Ben yelled, plonking down in his chair. “I move for a special vote to throw Murray and Noriko off the Council!”
“Now who’s being ridiculous?” said
