“What? That I’d look like a shrunken Sumo wrestler? Come on, let’s sit and talk awhile. This weight is killer on my tiny legs.” Rutger didn’t wait for a response, walking over to the porch steps and taking a seat on the bottom step. Even then, his feet barely touched the ground in front of him.

Tick smiled, finally feeling at ease, and joined Rutger on the steps. “So, you’re friends with Mothball, right?”

Rutger slapped his round belly. “You betcha I am! That tall stack of sticks is the best friend a man can have, even if she is three times my size. Well, up and down, anyway, if you know what I mean.” He raised his hand vertically, as if guessing the height of something. “Ah, Mothball’s a funny one if you get her going. Word to the wise though. Don’t ever ask her about the day she and her twin sis were born unless you have about seven days with nothing else to do but sit and listen.”

Tick grinned. “I’ll remember that. Why’d you throw those rocks at me?”

“Why were you late?”

“I . . . uh, good point. Slept in.”

Rutger looked at Tick intently, searching for something. “Looks like you forgot your assignment, too.”

“I did? What—” Then Tick remembered the poem and what it had asked for. He’d meant to scrounge around in the basement to find some old shoes and mittens. “Oh, never mind—you’re right, I forgot. Sorry.”

Rutger slapped Tick on the shoulder. “It’s okay, I can wait.”

“Huh? You mean . . .”

“That’s right, big fella. Come back with what I asked for and maybe I’ll talk.”

Tick paused before responding, hopeful that Rutger would wink and say he’d only been kidding. “You’re . . . serious?”

Rutger leaned closer like a giant rubber ball rolling forward. “I’ve been to more places in the last two weeks than you’ve seen in your whole life, boy. My shoes are just about ready to call it a day and walk off my feet—no pun intended, though that was a pretty good one. And my hands—cold, young man, cold.”

“You mean, the shoes and mittens are for you?”

“Who else, boy? Do you think I’d be traipsing around the Realities with a little child stuck to my hip? Of course they’re for me!” His voice had risen considerably, and Tick worried his dad would hear.

“Don’t talk so loud. You’ll wake the whole neighborhood.”

Rutger answered in an exaggerated whisper. “You won’t hear another peep from me until I’m holding a nice new pair of shoes and a warm-as-muffins pair of mittens.” He nodded curtly and folded his arms.

Tick stood up. “I’ll go—but what did you mean when you said the Realities?”

“Oh, come on, boy. It’s all about the kyoopy—science, Chi’karda, Barrier Wands!”