Then again, if it came down to either joining NAFAFA or losing the links forever, well, Noriko was right—I really didn’t have a choice. Abby would always be next door, but losing Uncle Joe and Alaska? Losing all that space and freedom when we’d only just found our way there? That was definitely not an option.
“It looks like you’ve got a lot to think about,” said Noriko, eyeing me. “Why don’t we assume for now that you’re agreeing to the test, and you can go home and talk it over with your network? It’s not really such a big deal, doing one good deed.”
“Talk it over with my network,” I said, “right.” What would Abby say to all this? Old Abby would have loved the woolly mammoths and famous pillows and palace doors and missing keys, but what if New Abby didn’t? Or hey, even worse—
“What do I do if Abby doesn’t believe me?” I said.
Murray tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t she? You’re best friends, right?”
“Obviously,” I said. “But she’s not exactly the same as she was before she went away to camp. I don’t know if I can guarantee I’ll be able to convince her.” It felt weird to be talking about it with them, but there was too much at stake here not to bring up potential problems while I had the chance.
“Don’t worry,” said Miesha. “You’ll be fine. I had the same trouble with some friends back when I joined. We’ll help if you need it.”
Noriko got to her feet, and everyone else did the same. It looked like the meeting was over.
“Good-bye, Maggie Hetzger,” Noriko said, reaching across the table and shaking my hand. “Thanks for coming. Carolina will take you home.”
I jumped as Carolina appeared at my elbow, then I shook hands with Miesha, who smiled encouragingly, and Murray, who turned pink again. Ben hugged his clipboard to his chest and gave me a curt nod.
Carolina and I set off down the steps, but I only made it a few feet before I stopped and turned back, the one big question I’d been dying to ask since the beginning tumbling out before I could stop myself.
“Hey, so why exactly are you all wearing silver sunglasses?”
Everyone froze. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carolina put a hand over her mouth. There was a very uncomfortable silence.
“Because, Maggie Hetzger,” said Noriko, drawing herself up to her full height, “we . . . are the Council.”
And she waved me away.
Eleven
I lay awake for hours after my visit to the NAFAFA Hub, going over every unbelievable detail in my mind and trying to figure out what exactly I should do.
The trouble was, those Council kids had made it crystal clear I didn’t actually have a choice. It was pass their test or lose the links forever, and that was that.
Well, if I had to join their club, at the very least I could set up rock-solid boundaries. Camp Pillow Fort was a network of two, and it was going to stay that way. The rest of them could have sixty-four links and all the kids they wanted, but Abby and I only needed each other.
I stared into the darkness of Fort Comfy, trying to imagine everything that could possibly go wrong in advance; and when I finally did fall asleep, my dreams were full of locked doors, dusty halls, broken mirrors, and creepy children singing songs about licorice.
So it was a rough start to the morning when Abby crowded into the fort, tickled me awake, and demanded I do my duty as vice director and lead a proper morning roll call.
“Director Saa-aa-mson,” I said, losing a battle with a yawn. I’d barely gotten any sleep, and I felt all bleary and blotchy next to Abby, who was unfairly bright eyed and shiny haired and raring to get on with the day.
“Probably napping on the back porch,” said Abby. “So, absent!”
“Hernandez, Abby.”
“Hesitant!” Abby punched the air.
“And He-etzger, Magg-ieee.” Another yawn. “Pleasant.”
Abby poked me in the ribs. “Is that the best you can do?”
I propped myself up on one elbow and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “I’ve got something to tell you. . . .”
“Cool, but first,” said Abby, “can we make it a plan to come up with a camp dance today? It was one of the very best parts about Camp Cantaloupe, and I think we’ve been overlooking it.”
“If you want,” I said. “But you really, really need to hear this. . . .”
I told her every detail of my adventure, from the Hub kids to the First Sofa to the Council’s ultimatum. Abby listened, her eyebrows inching higher with every word.
“. . . so we actually have a lot to do today,” I concluded, “because this is Day One, and if we don’t get this done by Day Three, we’ll lose the links for good.”
Abby stared at me. “Wow, Maggles. I am impressed.”
“Huh?”
“You must have been awake all night making that up!”
“What?! No, I didn’t—”
“We should still focus on our summer camp setup, since we’ve put so much time into it, but we could work this new game in around the sides, maybe. Who did you want to pretend to be the Council?”
“Hello,” I said, waving at her. “This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a game. This is real, it’s happening, and we need to get started.”
“Dude, it’s okay,” said Abby. “You don’t have to try so hard. I’ll play along.”
“No, I do have to try so hard because you’re still not getting it.” I sat up and looked her dead in the eyes. “This is not a game. I’m—not—kidding.”
Abby blinked, the smile sliding from her face. “You’re not?”
“Not even a little.”
“But Mags, come on. You have to be. I
