After breakfast, Master George summoned everyone to the meeting hall, where Paul was shocked to see dozens of people he’d never met before. He and Sofia took a seat while scanning the room, gaping at the strange visitors.

Tall people and short people, skinny people and muscled people. The clothing varied—everything from a large dude with a fancy robe containing every color possible to a slender woman with pale skin and red hair dressed head to toe in black. There was a guy with a turban, a woman with a baseball cap, another woman with a hat the size of a sombrero but decorated with tiny stuffed animals. Quite a few of the strangers wore what Paul considered normal clothes—jeans, flannel shirts, golf shirts, casual blouses, T-shirts—but the ones who didn’t stood out like huge chunks of coal in a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

A tall man with night-dark skin had eyes so blue they seemed to pulse and glow. He wore a one-piece suit with shreds of cloth hanging off like mummy wrappings. A woman sat three chairs down from him with bleached-blonde hair, her face painted in the fanciest makeup job Paul had ever seen—bright red lips, purple eye shadow, lines of blue streaking across her temple like colored wrinkles. She’d drawn a star on one cheek and a crescent moon on the other. Next to her was a man almost as short as Rutger but not nearly so fat, wearing a white shirt, white pants, and white socks and shoes.

“Who are these people?” Sofia whispered to Paul.

“Other Realitants, I guess,” he replied.

Sofia tapped the cast that covered his forearm from just below his elbow to his wrist. “How’s that broken bone of yours?”

“Feels great, actually.” He held up his arm and punched the air a couple of times. “Especially compared to how I felt yesterday. Can’t wait to whack Chu upside the head with this puppy.”

“You think Master George will let you go?”

Paul glared at her. “I’d like to see him stop me.”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “Ooh, you’re such a tough guy.”

“Tougher than you,” Paul muttered, but flinched backward when Sofia made a fist to punch him. “Calm it, girl! You’re the boss, you’re the boss.”

Sofia folded her arms and pouted. “We shouldn’t be acting like idiots. Tick’s in all kinds of trouble, I know it.”

Paul felt his heart sink to the floor. “Yeah,” was all he could get out. The room felt as if a dark cloud had formed on the ceiling, dimming everything to a dull gray.

“Can I sit next to ya knuckleheads?”

Paul looked up to see Sally. “Sure.”

He and Sofia scooted over, letting him have the aisle seat.

“Thank ya much,” Sally said with a grunt as he plopped down. “Gonna be one heckuva day, ain’t it?”

“Guess so,” Paul said.