Several moments passed, everyone too busy eating to talk. Sofia slurped her spaghetti, sounding like a renegade octopus trying to climb a slippery metal pole. Tick almost made a joke, but didn’t want to waste any breath when there were still noodles on his plate.

Paul wiped a big swath of sauce from his plate with a piece of garlic bread and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “Man,” he mumbled as he chewed, “I can’t wait to visit more Realities so I can check out the ladies.”

Tick almost choked on a laugh. “Yeah, right. You’d be lucky to get a date with Rutger’s little sister.” Tick’s friend Rutger was an incredibly short and fat man from the Eleventh Reality. And full of pranks.

Paul shrugged. “As long as she’s not quite so . . . bowling-ballish, I’m cool with that. Paul ain’t picky.”

“Good thing, too,” Sofia said. “No girl I know would give you a second glance.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”

Sofia put down her fork and looked him square in the eyes, her face set in matter-of-fact stone. “Your ears are crooked.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your. Ears. Are. Crooked.” Sofia emphasized each word as if Paul spoke a foreign language, then folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

“My ears are crooked,” Paul repeated, deadpan.

“Yes.”

“My ears are not crooked.”

“Yes, they are.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Crooked.”

Paul reached up and felt both of his ears, rubbing them between his thumbs and forefingers. “What does that even mean? How could they be crooked?”

Sofia pointed at Paul’s face. “Your left ear is almost half an inch lower than your right one. It looks ridiculous.”

“No way.” Paul looked to Tick for help. “No way.”

Tick leaned forward, studying Paul’s face. “Sorry, big guy. Crooked as bad lumber.”

“Where’s a mirror?” Paul half-yelled, standing up and running for the bathroom. A few seconds later, his shriek echoed down the hall: “Tick! My ears are crooked!”

Tick and Sofia looked at each other and burst out laughing.

A dejected Paul came slouching down the hall; he pulled back his chair and collapsed onto the table. Then he held up a finger, like he had a brilliant idea. “Fine, but I have beautiful toenails—here, let me show you—”

“No!” Sofia and Tick shouted together.

Thankfully, the low rumble of the garage door opening saved the day. Tick’s family was home.

~

“Well, if it’s not my three favorite heroes in the world,” Tick’s dad said as he stumbled through the door, both arms full of packages and bags—new school clothes, by the looks of it. “How’d the spaghetti experiment go? Smells great.” Tick knew what his dad was really thinking: Give me some. Now! The guy loved to eat, and his big belly showed it.

“The way these boys ate,” Sofia said, “I’d say it went pretty well.”