“I’m not a-lying, ma’am,” Norbert answered, trying his best to look calm. He didn’t like fibbing to such a scary woman—and crossing his fingers under the counter wouldn’t amount to a hill of beans if she found out—but somehow he just knew that if this evil lady wanted to stop Master George from doing whatever he was trying to do, then those letters needed to get in the mail, no matter what. And it was all up to Norbert Johnson.

The lady looked away as if lost in deep thought over what she should do next. “I know he’s up to something,” she whispered, barely audible and not really speaking to Norbert anymore. “But which Reality . . . I don’t have time to look in them all . . .”

“Miss Jane?” Norbert asked. “May I—”

“It’s Mistress Jane, you Alaskan ice head.”

“Oh, uh, I’m awfully sorry—I just wanted to know if there’s any postal service you’ll be a-needing today.”

The nasty woman looked at him for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, “If you’re lying to me, I’ll find out and I’ll come back for you, Norbie.” She reached into the pocket of her overcoat, fidgeting with something hidden and heavy. “And you won’t like the consequences, I can promise you that.”

“No, ma’am, I’m sure—”

Before he could finish his sentence, though, the last and by far most bizarre thing of the day occurred.

Mistress Jane disappeared.

She vanished—into thin air, as they say. Poof, like a magic trick. One second there, the next second gone.

Norbert stared at the empty space on the other side of the counter, knowing he needed a much stronger word than befuddled to explain how he felt now. Finally, shaking his head, he reached down and grabbed the box containing Master George’s letters.

“These are going out tonight,” he said, though no one was in the room to hear him.

Chapter

2

~

A Very Strange Letter

Atticus Higginbottom—nicknamed “Tick” since his first day of kindergarten—stood inside the darkness of his own locker, cramped and claustrophobic. He desperately wanted to unlatch the handle and step out, but he knew he had to wait five more minutes. The edict had been decreed by the Big Boss of Jackson Middle School in Deer Park, Washington. And what Billy “The Goat” Cooper commanded must be obeyed; Tick didn’t dare do otherwise.

He peeked through the metal slats of the door, annoyed at how they slanted down so he could only see the dirty white tiles of the hallway. The bell ending the school day had rung ages ago and Tick knew that by now most of the students would be outside, waiting for their buses or already walking home. A few stragglers still roamed the hallways, though, and one of them stopped in front of Tick’s jail cell, snickering.