Tick stared at the shiny gold ornament as Master George placed the chain over his head like he’d just won an Olympic medal. Tick studied the object hanging on his chain, bringing it close to his eyes for a better look. It was a miniature replica of a Barrier Wand, dials and all, solid and heavy.

“Be sure and wear them under your shirts,” Master George said as he stepped back in front of the group. “No need to go around advertising you’re a member of the most important society in the world. Plenty of enemies about.”

As Tick tucked the Wand pendant under his scarf and shirt, feeling the cold hardness warm up against his skin, Rutger began passing out small pieces of thick paper to each of the kids. “These are your official membership cards, so don’t lose them.”

Tick accepted his, a stiff brown card that simply said, “Atticus Higginbottom, Realitant Second Class.”

“Whoa,” Paul said. “No one will mess with us now. I’ll just whip this puppy out and they’ll run like scared dogs.”

“Very funny, young man,” Rutger said, folding his chubby arms. “You just be sure and hold onto your Wand pendant and that card—you’ve earned them both.”

“Yes, indeed,” Master George said. “And now, we must really let you be on your way. Atticus, your name begins with an A, so let’s send you off first.”

Tick’s stomach leaped into his throat. “Um, okay.” He stepped forward.

“Wait a second,” Paul said. “We need a send-off to pump us up.” He held his hand out to the middle of the circle.

Tick joined him, then Sato, then Rutger, and Mothball. Master George chuckled and put his hand out, too. Rolling her eyes, Sofia finally did as well.

“Go Realitants!” Paul yelled. He groaned at everyone else’s half-hearted attempt. “You guys need more team spirit.”

“Please tell me we don’t have to do that every time,” Sofia muttered.

“Yeah,” Tick agreed. “I think I’m with Sofia on that.”

Paul looked devastated. “She’s corrupted you.”

Tick shrugged. “It is kind of corny.” He paused, grinning. “Dude.”

Master George cleared his throat. “Time to be off. Atticus, step up here, please.”

Tick did so, adjusting the tattered and soppy scarf that clung to his neck like a frightened ferret. Mothball began the good-byes.

“Best of luck, little sir,” she said, leaning down to give him a quick hug. “Get a little older and I’ll be bringin’ ya a nice tall girlfriend from the Fifth, I will. Better than a short fat one from the Eleventh, don’t ya think?” She winked and stepped back.

“See ya, big guy,” Rutger said, reaching up to pat Tick on the elbow. “Sorry about all the rock-throwing.”

Tick laughed. “No problem.”

“Later, dude,” Paul said next. “See ya on the e-mail.”

“Definitely.”

Tick turned to Sato, who reached out and shook Tick’s hand.