Why, I wish I knew you were in my sunshine-y state before now! I’m doing the pretentious thing and “summering” in Santa Barbara. Gah! Four books in, and still I can’t believe I’m one of those people using “summer” as a verb.

I dare say I spit a splinter or two myself when your mom explained where you’re “summering.” Most impressive, Maddie! Your art of Roo still hangs above my dining room table. Still wish the powers that be would have accepted your version for book four. So, talent? That I knew. But I didn’t know you also had an affinity for the technology world. But then, why not? Limits are only good for speed and hot peppers, I always say. Your parents must be so proud. (Don’t roll your eyes at me, my dear—there are souls beneath those wireless headsets even still!)

Enclosed, find the latest prototype of Gumberoo gear—would love to know what you think! The same has been sent to little Danny. Next time, reach out to me directly.

Happy “weeding”!

Esmé

Socks, hats, tees, and the full series of books, signed by Esmé. The tee, sent in Maddie’s size, would be a nightshirt on Sadie. She’d love it.

Maddie grabbed her toiletry kit and towel. Her whole shower, she replayed her argument with Sadie, knowing she needed to apologize. It was wrong to expect Sadie, who worshipped Ryan Thompson and Pulse the way Lucy had, to understand why she’d been so upset.

As Maddie returned to her room and dressed, she tried to block the image of Ryan near Sadie. The one that rekindled the urge to shop for cobras.

She reached for her messenger bag, peeled back the flap, and emptied the contents onto the desk. She stuffed the bounty of Gumberoo gear and all the books inside and began to sort through the junk that had collected in her bag since the program began. Sketches for the logo of the pet-grooming service they’d abandoned, a handful of pterodactyl drawings, flyers for their beta test and one for . . . Sadie’s presentation.

Maddie brought her phone to life to check the time. She’d missed it.

*   *   *

She ran all the way to the day camp, her heart exploding not from the unusual physical activity but from picturing the same look on Sadie’s face that she’d seen on Danny’s every time their parents missed a soccer game, a music recital, or . . . dinner.

She’d slept through it.

Seriously?

She ran faster.

What was wrong with her?