Winnie was still staring at him, and Ahmad looked at Vijay Bhai through her eyes: the shiny gold hoop through his right ear, thanks to a recent Piercing Pagoda adventure, the light dusting of a beard over his jaw, and that wide, wide grin—even though they had just fished him out of a river in a whole other world.

“Nice to know Paheli is as welcoming as it always was,” Vijay Bhai said with a wink in Ahmad’s direction. He reached out and rumpled Ahmad’s hair with clammy fingers. “And I’m really glad to see you’re in one piece. When I saw how things changed, I was starting to get worried about how I’d find you. I got a little lost, too. Thought I knew this place like I made it up myself.”

“You know Paheli too?” Winnie blurted out, at the same time Ahmad gasped, “You knew we were here? But . . . our world is frozen!”

Vijay Bhai nodded. Droplets of water skied down the bridge of his nose. “I know. I was taking a walk around the block—well, honestly, I was at your house and your mom chased me out with the broom again so she could cook without me underfoot—and the entire world came to a halt.”

“But not you,” Winnie interjected.

“No. And because of that, I was able to put together the puzzle pieces of what was happening.” Vijay Bhai’s face was abruptly solemn. “It’s happened to me once before, you know.”

“What—” Ahmad sputtered. His mind was reeling. Vijay Bhai was still talking, though.

“But we don’t have time for all that. Not now. I think I have something you might need.”

He reached out, dropping something into Ahmad’s still-wet palm.

Ahmad started when his hand felt something round, smooth, and cold settle into it.

OBTAINED! Text flashed before his eyes in a bright gold, holographic font. The words looked almost as solid as whatever was in his hand. MARBLE!

“A marble?” Ahmad whispered to himself. His heart pounded.

He held it up. It was the usual clear sphere, with a winking core of bright green. It rolled over his palm, catching light in spite of the brooding darkness closing in around them.

“This can’t be one of mine,” Ahmad mumbled, staring down at it. Marbles were pretty much the same everywhere, right? Besides, Ma had probably dumped his own precious collection into the nearest Goodwill collection box as soon as he got bored of them back in fifth grade.

Any marble could look like this, as clear and calm as a cat’s eye. Any marble could have the familiar scratches from the grooves of the Queens sidewalk he still remembered bouncing over on his way to kindergarten.

This wasn’t one of his marbles. And yet, here it was, in a moment when he needed its reassuring coolness most. That couldn’t be a coincidence.