Tick gritted his teeth. He tapped into that quiet pool of energy, channeling the heat that filled his body and forcing it through his shredded voice box, yelling out for the third time:

“MASTER GEORGE! I . . . DID . . . NOT . . . BURN . . . THE . . . LETTER!”

The woods swallowed up his words, returning only silence. The fire in his belly flickered and then went out, leaving Tick feeling weak and shaky.

He waited, hoping he would see some kind of sign that Master George had heard him. Nothing.

Dejected, throat burning, and not knowing what else he could possibly do, not knowing if what he had done had changed anything at all, he headed for home.

~

Kayla sat in the middle of the living room, hosting a tea party for her three favorite dolls. Humming to herself, she passed out cups of steaming hot tea.

The front door swung open, followed by her very sad-looking brother. His clothes looked dirty, his hair was all messed up, and he was sweating.

What happened to him? she wondered. He was supposed to be at the library.

He came into the living room and knelt down beside her, pulling her into a fiercely tight hug. Kayla thought Tick was acting really weird but she finally squeezed back, wondering if he was okay.

“I’m sorry, Kayla,” he said. “I’m really, really sorry I yelled at you like that.” He leaned back from her; his eyes were all wet. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Come here.” He hugged her again, then stood up and headed for the stairs, his head hung low, that strange-looking book with his name on the cover gripped in his right hand.

Halfway up the stairs, he leaned over the railing and repeated himself. “You’re a good girl, Kayla. I’m sorry I yelled at you, okay? I know you didn’t mean to mess up my book.”

Kayla was confused. When had Tick yelled at her? Earlier, he’d been talking to his friends on the computer while she played with her dolls but he hadn’t said anything to her. And she hadn’t touched his book at all. How could she? He had taken it with him when he left for the library.

She and her dollies laughed at the silliness of boys and she poured herself another cup of invisible tea.

~

Tick flopped down on his bed with a groan. How could he know if screaming in the woods had done any good? Was he really going to have to agonize all weekend, waiting, then head to the cemetery on Monday night and hope for the best? Was it really all over?