“Well, I definitely can’t,” said Abby. “And my dad loves cooking, and he’s particular about his kitchen. Everything has to be in a certain place or he gets really frustrated. You know how he never lets us put the dishes away when we help wash them? He’d probably be in there with us the whole time, fussing.”
“So not really such a good deed, then?”
“Probably not,” said Abby. She crossed off the first idea. “Next problem: Can you think of anything we could do, today, that would actually help Joe with his research?”
I thought. We could carry his equipment, maybe, or steer the boat, or organize his recordings, but he could do any of that himself once his foot was better. And if bringing him greens and doing our best to fix his ankle didn’t turn out to be enough, I was pretty certain none of that other stuff would be either.
“Um, no.”
One by one we crossed off everything on the list, until Uncle Joe woke up with a snort and we had to stop with the fort talk. Pretty soon it was time to say good-bye, and I made Uncle Joe promise to stay off his foot and not go out researching for a while. He agreed, but as Abby and I slipped into the fort, I couldn’t shake a nagging prickle of worry about leaving him up there, injured and housebound and alone.
Luckily there were other things to think about as we got back to Seattle.
“Did it work, did it work?” asked Abby. “Did we pass the test?”
“Look for a silver envelope,” I said, peering around.
But there was no sign of a silver envelope in Fort McForterson or in Fort Comfy.
“Cucumber casserole!” said Abby. “I was sure that would be enough.”
“Sorry,” I said. “It was a nice try, though, and at least we made Uncle Joe happy.” And me, actually. That was the best afternoon I’d had in a long time.
We ate dinner at Abby’s again that night—black bean burgers and coleslaw—and after a push-up contest between Tamal and the twins, and a pileup in the living room for the next superhero movie in the series, Abby and I headed for bed.
I was curled in my usual spot, drowsily dreaming up an arctic-themed sky-versus-ocean game for us to play, when Abby sat bolt upright in the darkness.
“Oh, no!” she said. “We forgot to clean your house!”
I groaned and threw my arms over my face. “Ugh! But we folded the laundry, right? That was the main thing. My mom won’t be mad if we do the rest of the house tomorrow.”
But Abby was already out of bed and switching on the light. “Dude, no,” she said, her hands on her hips. “I want to have tomorrow free for doing good deeds so we can make sure we get into NAFAFA. And that means you need to get up right this second, because tonight we”—she whacked me with her pillow—“are—cleaning!”
It definitely wasn’t the best going-over my house had ever seen, but between us we rallied long enough to sweep the floors, polish the faucets, straighten the books, wipe the windows, and scrub the toothpaste out of the bathroom sink before deciding to call it quits.
“Okay, for real, enough’s enough,” Abby said, as I led the way back into Fort McForterson. “Your mom can’t expect us to do more than that.”
“I hope no-o-ot,” I yawned, closing my eyes as the end of my patchwork scarf brushed over my face. I stopped, wondering sleepily if I could spot the bit of First Sofa in it.
Abby bumped into me headfirst from behind.
“Oop,” I said as she fell over, snort-laughing. “Oh, come on, it wasn’t that funny.” Abby rolled onto her back, sleepy-giggling, and her arm thumped against a pillow one to the right of the entrance.
The pillow fell slowly forward, and another pillow, a brand-new pillow, appeared behind it.
Thirteen
“Hey!” Abby said. “New link!” And she was right. The off-white, industrial-looking pillow staring back at us was definitely a stranger to Fort McForterson.
“Ugh,” I said. “Now? It’s seriously too late for this.”
“This is awesome!” said Abby, somehow completely awake again. “New link means new fort! But where did it come from?” She pushed the pillow aside. There was darkness behind it. “Only one way to find out!” She started forward.
“Hang on!” I said, throwing out an arm and blocking her path. Questions and dangers were swarming through my tired brain. What if this was a test set by the Council? Or even a trap? Would using this new link disqualify us? Were we supposed to put the pillow back and just forget the link existed? Or were we supposed to explore it and use its powers for good? I couldn’t decide.
I couldn’t hold Abby back forever either.
“Just, be careful,” I said, lowering my arm.
Abby wrinkled her forehead. “Careful? Of what? And why are you always scared of new links?”
“I thought it might be a Council trap. You know, to test us.”
“Huh?” said Abby. “How do you figure that? We didn’t add this link, so we can’t get in trouble for it. It might have nothing to do with them, anyway.”
“Then that’s even worse,” I said. “That means it’s a stranger’s fort, and that could mean a whole other kind of trouble. I mean”—I waved a hand at the unidentified darkness—“there could be anything in there.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mags,” she said. “This is a pillow fort, not a long-lost portal in one of your games. We’re not gonna be facing giant spider crabs or hungry ghost badgers. No mechanical librarians are going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom until you hand over a book from your mom’s shelves that turns out to be a secret animal-sound translator when you read it in a mirror on the night of a full moon. That’s a normal-looking
