“So I ask him, ‘Freddie George, can I bounce that sheep’s bladder?’ ‘Okay,’ he says, and bops it over to me. I promise you right now, I didn’t so much as lay a finger on it before that bladder up and shriveled. I mean deflated flat. Freddie George never talked to me again. That’s how it goes with everybody. That’s what happens every time I try and do anything. I mean heck, I was only with Pop for one night and he got kidnapped. Nothing to blame for that but myself and my durn hexed blood.”

“Well here’s to finding a cure for the both of us,” said Tally.

“I’m all in on that,” I said. “Just hope we can find some lunch on the way too.”

Some big old seabirds flew over our heads, squawking up a storm. Somewhere a frog leapt out and belly flopped in the water. All of nature was out and having a durn good time. At least a much better time than I was. Probably eating too, frogs eating up flies, mosquitoes sucking up blood, gators chomping on fish heads. Every last critter with a bellyful, except me. I was hungry and thirsty and I didn’t dare drink any swamp water. I heard all kinds of stories about what would happen if you did that. Lily pads would sprout in your stomach. You’d open your mouth and a swarm of mosquitoes would come buzzing out. Worst of all, you might swallow frog eggs and be burping up toads the rest of your life.

Also I found a tick big as a blueberry on my noggin. Must have been there for days but I was too preoccupied to notice. Tally plucked it off for me with her fingernails. She’s a pro, even got the head out, no problem, so the wound wouldn’t get infected. I figured she’d be sympathetic toward ticks, her being part spider and all, but when I mentioned it she stuck her tongue out at me.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and pretend you didn’t say that to me.”

“What?” I said. “What did I do?”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this life it’s that I’m aces at saying the exact durn wrong thing all the time.

Tally didn’t hardly talk to me for a whole hour after that. Sitting in a boat with someone all day, trading off rowing until your hands get blistery when you’re hungry and they won’t even talk to you is pretty tough. You just don’t know what to do with yourself. I couldn’t figure out what in the heck this Boss Authority had to do with Pop. I figured maybe it was something about a Parsnit game gone wrong, knowing Pop. I bet Pop whooped him so bad Boss Authority sent spies after him, trying to make Pop pay for embarrassing him. But why did Pop know the two guys that came after him? It was too much for me to figure out right now. So I pulled out Pop’s Parsnit deck and laid out each card one at a time, peering close at each one, trying to will myself into them, like a real Parsnit player does. I started learning Parsnit. I mean really learning it, studying the cards, listening for their stories. Like how the Sleepy Town’s got a chimney just like Mom’s house, or how the Bramble has the feel of the woods not a mile from Collardsville.