“How do you know?” I demanded.
“Because that’s exactly what I would have done at your age,” said my mom. “A magical pillow fort kingdom with my best friend? I would have gotten into so much trouble.”
“But we haven’t gotten into any trouble,” said Abby. “At least not because of things we’ve actually done.”
“And that’s the way I want to keep it,” said my mom, nodding. “Besides, think about the stuff you have gotten up to, in just a few days. Sneaking around people’s homes at night? Taking food without permission? Fibbing to your parents about where you are? It sounds like harmless kid stuff, and maybe it is, but those are some seriously blurry lines there, and chances are one day you’re going to cross a real one.
“And what about Alaska? What if one of you got badly hurt on one of your trips? Or separated from the others and lost? I don’t think you understand how lucky you’ve been so far. I’d never stop worrying about you if I let this continue, and I’m sorry, but the fact is it’s not safe and it’s got to stop.”
“But this is ours,” said Abby. “We created Camp Pillow Fort by ourselves. You can’t just make us shut it down!”
“I can’t let you continue to run wild either, Abby,” said my mom. “So what I’m proposing is a compromise. You can keep using the forts, and the links, and all the rest of it, but only with me as chaperone. Or camp counselor, if you prefer that term.”
We stared at her in dead silence. I could hear the kitchen clock ticking.
“Oh, come on, you don’t have to look so defeated,” said my mom, smiling. “I can’t go with you everywhere—I’ll be at work too much. But I will need to know which fort you’ll be in, when, and for how long, and approve any and all trips to Alaska ahead of time. And any new links, I think you called them, will have to be coordinated with the permission of parents on both sides. But that’s it. Apart from that I’ll only interfere if things are getting out of hand.”
I looked over at Abby. Abby looked over at me. We were agreed: no way. It was impossible. My mom might as well have asked us to take the forts down then and there.
“What about Kelly?” I asked, putting off having to give an answer. “That wasn’t ‘running wild.’ We did a really nice thing for her.”
“That’s actually even more serious,” said my mom. “I saw her fort, so I know you did a nice thing for her, but what you may not know is that it’s incredibly unsafe bringing knickknacks into a hospital like that. It wasn’t just decorations, it was germs and allergens, too. Kelly will be fine—she’s actually getting better—but I work with some very sick kids, and you could have done one of them real harm. So Kelly’s fort is going to have to be closed off. Period. I know she’d love to have you come visit her the normal way while she’s still in the hospital, but the health and safety of my patients is more important than anything else.”
We hung our heads. That was bad. We never meant to put anyone in danger.
“Now, don’t worry,” said my mom. “Everything turned out okay.” She smiled encouragingly. “And it’s not like the adventure’s ending, is it? You’ll just be getting a brand-new member.”
She actually seemed excited at the idea of joining in. I almost felt sorry about breaking the bad news.
“Well, see, the thing is, even if the Council votes us in, grown-ups aren’t—”
But I never got to finish telling her, because a scuffling suddenly erupted from the living room. Abby and I jumped up just in time to see the front of Fort McForterson fly open and a kid in silver sunglasses crawl out. It was Miesha.
I grabbed Abby’s arm. Finally, this was it!
Miesha got to her feet, spotted us, raced into the kitchen . . . and shoved the key from le Petit Salon into my hands.
Twenty-Five
“Here!” said Miesha. “Take this. Keep it safe.” She had feathers stuck to her shirt and pillow stuffing in her hair.
“What is— Why are—” I said. “What happened to you?”
“Anyone can see I just won a pillow fight,” said Miesha, fishing a feather from between her fancy tortoishell and silver Council glasses.
“How do you win a pillow fight?” asked Abby.
“By being in one.”
“Oh.” Abby smiled. “Well, don’t keep us waiting! How did the vote go?”
“The vote hasn’t happened yet,” said Miesha, backing up toward the living room. “We’ve been too busy with other things. Just keep that key safe.” She sneezed violently. A handful of feathers floated to the ground. “Ugh, I passed your cat coming through your fort. Allergies are the worst.”
“But, wait, you haven’t voted?” I held up the key. “What’s this for, then?”
Miesha stopped and glanced at the clock on the stove. “Oh, all right. I can spare a couple minutes to explain.”
“Sweet!” Abby patted a stool. “In that case, you have to, have to, have to try one of these cinnamon rolls.”
“Ooh, thanks!”
We all sat down as my mom plated up a roll. Miesha dove right in. “Okay, wow! This is incredible! Way to go, local Snack Committee. But yes, news, super important.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “So, last night one of Ben’s clipboard spies found out Noriko set up that alley-cleaning deed for you. Big drama. Ben made a formal protest and called to have the Council remove her from power.”
“Isn’t he’s always doing that?” I said.
“Yes,” said Miesha around another bite of cinnamon roll. “But this time he told his whole network about it first, and they all turned up to support him. Things got, you know, heated, and soon everyone was involved,
