He and Sofia e-mailed back and forth, never failing to ask the other if they’d seen something or met someone. The answer was always a frustrated NO!

Where were the clues? What had happened to Mothball and Rutger? Did something get lost in the mail? Had they somehow proven themselves unworthy? Had the man
in charge moved on to other, more deserving, kids? The questions poured out of their minds and into their e-mails, but no answer ever came back.

Tick was sick with discouragement.

All he could do was watch the snow pile up in his front yard all through January and February. The weathermen loved reminding their viewers that it had been the worst winter on record, revealing snow tallies in fancy charts with as much enthusiasm as if they were announcing the lottery winners. It was March before the snow finally started to melt, revealing patches of deadened grass that desperately longed for spring.

Tick hadn’t missed a single day of school during the three months, trying his best to keep focused while he worried about not hearing from Master George. But even competing in the Jackson County Chess Tournament in the middle of March hadn’t been the same and Tick had placed fifth in his age bracket. His family seemed shocked that he’d lost the top spot, but his mind had been somewhere else, and the three-year winning streak ended with a dull thump instead of a big bang.

His dad constantly tried to cheer him up, encouraging him that something would come soon, but after a couple of months, even his dad seemed disheartened. Like a wounded snail limping to its next meal, Tick lived out each day hoping for a letter from Master George.

Tick did receive one exciting thing in the mail: a package of free spaghetti and sauce from Frupey the Butler. True to Sofia’s word, it had tasted wonderful, and Tick knew he could never eat the cheap stuff again.

But even in the depths of the three-month doldrums, Tick and Sofia had never given up. They made a commitment to study their own journals every day, even if only for a few minutes, to keep their minds fresh, hoping something new might pop out and surprise them. They forced themselves to stay active in the game, even if the other side offered no help. And every day, no matter what, they sent an e-mail to each other.

Tick felt sure he’d hit rock bottom when he got home and checked his e-mail, clicking on a new one from Sofia.

Tick,

Hello from Italy.

Ciao.

Sofia

Tick groaned and wrote his own quick reply:

Sofia,

Howdy from America.

Later.

Tick

Depressed, Tick shut off the computer and slumped his way up the stairs to wait for dinner. A few minutes later, he fell asleep with the Journal of Curious Letters clasped in his arms like a teddy bear.

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