If Tick had woken up that morning and guessed one thousand things a special sign made just for him might have said, a request for children’s shoes and mittens would not have made the list. Not knowing what else to do, and not real keen on anyone else seeing the sign, he yanked it up out of the ground and carried it home with him, trying to sort out
the message. There didn’t really seem to be too many clues in the poem, just a request to meet on the steps of his porch.

Meet me when night is a backwards dim

Tick figured that one out almost instantly. “Dim” spelled backward was “mid,” which meant the stranger wanted him to be waiting on his porch at midnight—presumably tonight. The now familiar shiver of excitement tickled Tick’s spine as he looked at his watch and saw he still had almost seven hours to wait.

Bummer, he thought. It was going to be a long evening.

~

At dinner that night, Tick sat with his whole family eating meatloaf, the one thing in the universe his mom cooked that disgusted him like fried toenails. If given the choice, it would’ve been a tough decision between the two. He absolutely hated, despised, and loathed meatloaf. Yuck.

He forced down a bite or two, then did his best to smash the gray-green blobs of meat into a little ball so it looked like he’d eaten more than he really had. Kayla devoured hers, though she put just as much on the floor as she did in her mouth.

“What’s the latest at school?” Dad asked, reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“Not much. I’m doing okay.” Tick realized he’d let his mind get too occupied lately, spending less time with his family. He resolved to do better. They were, after all, just about the only friends he had in the world, besides Mr. Chu.

And Mothball, he thought. And Sofia. Maybe.

“Just okay?” Lisa said. “What? Did Einstein Junior get a bad grade or something?”

“Oh, please,” his mom said through a snicker as though the idea was the funniest thing that had ever been spoken aloud.

“Well . . . I did get a B on my last English test.”

Dead silence settled around the table like he’d just announced he was an alien and was about to have a baby because on Mars the men were the ones who got pregnant. Even Kayla had dropped her wad of meatloaf, staring at him with blank eyes.

“What?” Tick asked, knowing very well what the answer would be.

“Son,” his dad said, “you haven’t gotten a B on anything since I’ve known you. And I’ve known you since the day you were born.”

“Yeah,” Lisa agreed. “I think the world has stopped spinning.”

Tick shrugged, scooping up a mouthful of green beans. “Ah, it’s nothing. Maybe I had bad gas that day.”