“No.” His dad leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Tick, I’ve known you for thirteen years, and I can’t think of a time when you’ve ever lied to me. You’re too smart to lie, too good of a person. I trust you, and as I looked into your eyes as you told me this crazy story, I knew it was true. Now, I wanted some time to think about it and such, but I knew.”

Tick wanted to say something cheesy and profound, but all that came out was, “Cool.”

His dad laughed. “Yeah, cool. I can feel it deep down that this is important and that you were chosen to help because you’re a special kid. There’s always been something almost magical about you, Tick, and I think I knew that someday your life would take a turn for the unique. We’ve never really talked about it, but I’ve always felt like you had a guardian angel or some kind of special gift. These letters and clues and all this weird stuff has to be related somehow.”

Tick didn’t really know what his dad was talking about, and didn’t care—he was too excited about finally having someone nearby who knew what was going on. “So you’ll help me figure it out?”

“Now, maybe I can help a little here and there with the riddles but”—he pointed a finger at Tick—“you better believe I’m going to be the toughest bodyguard anyone’s ever had. All this dangerous stuff scares me too, you know?” He reached out and gave his patented bear hug, then leaned back. “So where do we go from here?”

Tick shrugged. “I guess we just keep getting the clues and hope we can figure everything out by May sixth.”

His dad scratched his chin, deep in thought. “Yeah . . .” He seemed doubtful or troubled.

“What?”

“I was thinking maybe this M.G. guy expects you to be a little more proactive. You know, dig a little deeper to find out what’s going on.”

“Dad, I can tell you’re thinking really hard ’cause it looks like you might bust a vein.”

His dad ignored the joke. “You have two weeks off from school for Christmas, right?”

“Right.”

“And I have plenty of vacation time . . .” He paused. “But what would we do about your mom? I don’t want her involved in this. She’d worry herself to the deathbed quicker than she can make a batch of peanut-butter cookies.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?”

His dad’s eyes focused on Tick. “I think we should do a little investigating.”

“Investigating?”

“Yeah.” He reached out and squeezed Tick’s shoulder. “In Alaska.”

~