“Maybe? Technically? Who knows?” said Noriko. “Please don’t go quoting regulations at me, Maggie Hetzger. I’m head of the Council, and I can tell you half our rules are ridiculous anyway. Take the silver sunglasses.” She tapped her frames. “They’re just ordinary sunglasses. We started wearing them when the Hub chandelier got brighter bulbs back in the seventies. It started as a joke, but some Ben-type kid decided they should be a sign of authority and somehow made it against regulations to even talk about them, like you found out when you asked. Half our rules are completely pointless and entirely weird, and I think that means we can bend them sometimes if we have to. It’s not like we’re keeping Ben from getting anything he should actually have, anyway. We’re just maintaining the balance.”
Abby caught my eye, her fingers playing with the end of her braid. She arched an eyebrow. I wasn’t certain what that meant, so I raised mine back.
Noriko was watching us. “Look,” she said, an edge of exasperation in her voice, “I don’t think this is that hard. This is the part where you decide what you want. Do you want to take the next step and join the big leagues of pillow forts? Or do you want to go back to playing those make-believe games you keep talking about? It seems like an easy choice to me, but maybe I’ve been wrong about you.
“I can guarantee your acceptance into NAFAFA if you just jump through the hoops and avoid breaking the rules for anything less than a genuine, life-or-death emergency for the next couple of days. And remember, if you don’t pass the test, we’re shutting you down anyway. You’ll never do a good enough deed on your own in that time, so this really is your only chance. I’m trying to make it easy on you here.”
The jangling pipes and coins seemed to grow louder as Noriko finished her speech.
I didn’t know what to say. My insides were feeling as tangled as the room around us. Everything had changed. First Abby wanted to turn the whole west coast into one giant summer camp reunion, then Noriko admitted she’d been openly using us, moving us around like pawns in her power games. She had kind of threatened us too. Didn’t her whole argument boil down to Do what I say or else?
And hey, who was she to say we were flailing and couldn’t come up with a top-notch good deed in time? We’d just done three in one day! We didn’t need her shortcuts. We could do it ourselves.
And if for some weird reason it didn’t work out, well, then fine, we’d lose the links. But I’d still have Abby, and we’d still have our games. And no matter what Noriko said, that sounded just fine to me. It would sting losing Alaska, but this was about principles now. We’d make it into NAFAFA on our own or not have a network at all.
I looked over at Abby, who smiled and gave me a single, determined nod. This time I understood perfectly. We didn’t even have to speak. We are Camp Pillow Fort, that smile and nod were saying, and we can meet this challenge together, just the two of us. I grinned and nodded back.
“We’ll have to think about it,” I said to Noriko. There was no point giving her a direct answer just yet. We had plans to make first. Glorious plans.
“Of course,” said Noriko. “I expected that. I’ve arranged for Carolina to be your audio surveillance officer this afternoon. You’ll have a two-hour window once you’re back where you can talk freely.”
“Great,” I said. “Thanks.”
Noriko narrowed her eyes at me, then sighed. “Okay, look, to show you how serious I am, I’ll throw in a bonus: follow my instructions, do this right, and I’ll do everything in my power to fix your relationships with your parents. I’ll personally make sure they know you weren’t responsible, and everything will be like it was before.”
“You can do that?” asked Abby, her eyes wide.
“I’m Head of the Council of NAFAFA and Chancellor of the Forts of the Eastern Seaboard,” said Noriko. “Of course I can.”
“Wow!” said Abby. “Also, hey, can I ask a totally off-topic question?”
Noriko shrugged.
“What’s in that big tank in the corner?”
We all looked down. The big tank in the corner was full of something, but it wasn’t coins. It looked more like . . .
“Cheerios,” said Noriko. “You wouldn’t believe how many Cheerios end up falling down the back of sofas. We had to put them somewhere.”
Abby whistled, impressed. She gazed around at the forest of pipes. “So, how does all this work?”
“Do your good deed, get into NAFAFA, and you’ll find out,” Noriko said. “But I’m tired of shouting here. You know where I stand. I’ll take you back to your own network, and then you two have a big decision to make.”
Sixteen
“Leave it to us to wander into a pillow fort civil war,” I said as the link closed behind us.
“I know,” Abby said, “it’s bizarre. But that Hub! It’s incredible! You really didn’t describe it well enough. And all those other kids we can hang out with! I can’t wait to get into NAFAFA now.”
She seized the silver envelope waiting in the middle of the floor and ripped it open. “Let’s see what this maybe technically cheating good deed is.” She cleared her throat and read the letter aloud.
Maggie Hetzger & Abby Hernandez,
Your good deed has been prepared. Please follow these instructions carefully. The blue-striped pillow two to the left of the entrance of your hub has been linked to what we call a ‘partial fort.’ That means a situation where the pieces needed for a linked fort (pillows, a basic covering, a token) are gathered by accident. This mostly happens on sofas, like the one you encountered when you
