And then it happened. A huge gust of wind brought gasps from the crowd, and the kids holding the Pillsbury Doughboy balloon were pulled violently toward Columbus Circle. Red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered down from the trees. As they dropped on our heads, they turned to glitter bombs.

The cold breeze cut through all my layers and turned me to ice. All except the area above my heart, which now produced a steady burn. I reached for Zoe.

“Anything on Picture Post?”

She checked. “Yeah. One just came in.”

“THAT’S DOPE! Show me where he is!”

The token burned hot as I checked out Zoe’s phone. It was a picture of Loopy, all right, and he was sitting in a sleigh, with Santa Claus!

Zoe put her gloved hand up to cover to her mouth. “Santa’s at the end of the parade. We’ll never get there through this crowd.”

“We’ll do the best we can. Hopefully the elevator will do the rest.” I grabbed Doug by the elbow, and as the rest of the group was distracted by the Doughboy balloon, I pulled him toward the back of the crowd. Zoe followed.

“Hey! The SpongeBob balloon is coming! I don’t wanna miss—”

“Doug, we have to go. The token is smokin’!” I dug through my scarf, coat, and two shirts to pull it out.

“The token is smokin’?”

“YES! That’s what I said!”

“Okay, then, SpongeBob will have to wait.”

I turned and ran back into Central Park, leaving most of the crowd behind.

Come on, doors, where are you? Santa’s coming . . .

We ran north as fast as we could. Clouds formed in front of us and showered down gold glitter, leaving a trail to follow.

Come on, tester, you know the way.

We ran for a few more minutes, up over the Bow Bridge, to the sign that said we were entering the Ramble. The clouds dumped large flakes of glitter that solidified and formed doors, with a pulsing golden coin slot pushing out from the middle.

“Don’t blow this, Arcade,” Zoe said.

“Be specific,” Doug clasped his hands like he was praying.

“Yeah,” Zoe added. “Don’t forget . . . six years ago . . . Thanksgiving . . . Santa Claus . . . and make us the same age as we are now.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not as complicated as that, Zoe.”

The token sparked and flamed and crackled. So did the coin slot.

“ARCADE! It is complicated! This is no time to get crazy with your thinking . . .”

I nodded and held the token between my burning gloves. “You’re right. It’s time to think . . . like Arcade Livingston.”

I opened my hands and inspected the glowing Triple T Token. I smiled, flipped it up in the air, and said four words.

“Take me to Loopy.”

*  *  *

“Ho, Ho, Ho!”