“I know, but I swear I didn’t,” I said. “Look, I’m the one who went. I know what happened and you don’t. You’re in no position to argue here.”
“Well”—Abby looked around the fort—“do you at least have some proof, or something? Like a souvenir, or a mark on a pillow?”
Shoot. I’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask that. “No,” I admitted. “I don’t. Carolina came in through the blue-plaid pillow in my fort, but it doesn’t lead anywhere now; I checked as soon as she brought me back.”
“Huh.” Abby crawled past me through the link to Fort McForterson. I followed, watching as she pulled the pillow free, studied both sides carefully, and tapped the chair legs behind it. It all looked so mundane and normal in the morning light.
“You’re absolutely sure it was this one?”
“Positive. You’d remember if it happened to you.”
She sat back, chewing her lip. “Mags, I’m sorry. I mean, without any proof, and it’s so much like one of your— Just—I don’t know.” Her eyes flicked to my face, then away. “I’m, uh, gonna go brush my teeth.” She headed back to her fort.
I slumped against the side of the sofa. New Abby was out in full force.
I was deciding the best way to tell her exactly how moose headed she was being when there was a shout from Fort Comfy.
“Look!” Abby yelled, bursting back through the link. “Look-look-look-look!” She held out a large silver envelope. “It’s got my name on it! I swear, this was not there when we crawled through a second ago.”
“What’s inside?” I asked.
Abby pulled out a square of heavy paper and scanned it, her eyes going so wide she looked like a cartoon character.
“Well?” I demanded. “What’s it say?!”
“It says, ‘Dear Abby Hernandez, Maggie Hetzger is telling the truth. Signed, The Council of NAFAFA.’”
There was a very satisfying silence.
“But how,” Abby said, shaking the envelope, “how did they get this in my fort?”
“No idea.” I was having the hardest time not grinning from ear to ear. It was a nice feeling being right. “But Noriko did say they’d help if I had trouble convincing you. This must be their way of doing it.”
“Unbelievable.” Abby stared down at the note, then looked up. “Wait—so does that mean they can hear everything we’re saying?”
“It looks like it. They told me they ‘monitor all linked-fort activity.’ But it’s probably way too late to worry about that now.”
“This is just so bizarre. I mean, this changes everything.”
“You have no idea.”
“Will you tell me the whole thing again, Mags? From the start? I want to make sure I really understand what’s going on. I promise I’ll pay attention this time.”
“Oh, thanks so much,” I said. “Okay . . .”
I repeated the story, making sure to include every tiny detail, and Abby listened closely.
“So there was a piece of the First Sofa in that quilt I used to make your scarf?” she said when I finished. “That is so cool. I basically started this whole thing!”
“Well, the fact that I built a pillow fort might have helped some.”
“But it took my scarf to make the fort link.”
“By our powers combined, then.”
“And so now we have three days to pull off a good deed or it’s all over?”
“Yup.”
“No problem!” Abby slapped the note against her palm. “Getting in will be easy. I mean, it’s us, and then we’ll have so many more people to hang out with. It’ll be just like back at camp!”
My happiness at finally convincing her I was telling the truth vanished with a pop.
Whoa. My whole reason for joining NAFAFA was so we could save our links and get access to all those new ones for better-than-ever games. Games that needed a Maggie and an Abby, and no one else. Sure, I would have to go to Council meetings sometimes, and there was probably some sort of newsletter I’d have to read, but I could manage all that and still have the time of my life with my best friend.
Only it sounded like Abby wanted to join NAFAFA so she could hang out with new kids, just like she did at Camp Cantaloupe. That meant the sooner we did our good deed and joined, the sooner she could dive into that kid-packed maze on the floor of the Hub. It was completely unfair. I’d only just gotten Abby back! I wasn’t ready to start sharing her again. Why couldn’t things just be the way they used to be?
Good thing I still had three whole days to think of a solution.
“So hey, let’s do this!” said Abby. “I’m guessing you were up all night and have, like, seventeen good deeds planned out already, right?”
I blinked. She was right. Old Maggie would have had this mission drawn up, scripted, and set to music by now; but I hadn’t even thought once about the good-deed part of the quest.
“Let’s brainstorm ideas together,” I said, playing for time. “We’ve got days to work with here. There’s no rush.”
“Oh, no,” said Abby, “I think we should get it—” But she cut off as a loud knocking came through from Fort Comfy. “Oh, whale poop!” Abby said, her wide eyes mirroring mine. We dove back through the link.
“There you are,” said Alex as we scrambled out into Abby’s bedroom. “What took you so long? I’ve been knocking for half a minute.”
“Uhh,” I said.
“Umm,” said Abby.
“Well, never mind,” said Alex. “Maggie, your mom called.”
“Who?” I said, still slightly panicked.
Alex smiled. “Your mom. The lady who lives next door. She’d like you to come home after breakfast. She wants to check in about a few things before she leaves for work.”
“Oh, okay.” I was surprised—it wasn’t like my mom to call and check on me. Then I remembered she hadn’t actually seen me in almost two days.
Abby and I got dressed while Alex made scrambled eggs and orange juice, and after helping with the dishes
