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“I think maybe we’ll just let her sleep,” Mr. Trouble said. “We’ll get her home, and her parents won’t even know she was gone.”

“If that’s what you prefer,” Uncle Colin said. “So, what happened? All of a sudden there was no one in the monitors and the radios weren’t working.”

“They were playing tricks with the frequency,” Mr. Trouble said.

“Wait until you hear what Eric did,” Fiona told him.

Uncle Colin’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Something we’ve never seen before.”

“What? What?”

“Later,” Mr. Trouble said. “Right now, I think we need to get these three home.”

“Ah, you can’t leave me hanging like that.”

“Sorry, we’ll tell you when we get back.”

As Mr. Trouble put Eric’s mom in the front seat, Fiona whispered to Uncle Colin, “He turned the Makers into ash.”

“What?”

“Time to go,” Mr. Trouble said. “Fiona, Keira, you’re with us. The rest of you get the Lady Candice ready. It’s time to go home.”

They stopped at Eric’s house first and carried his mom through the quiet house and into the bedroom, where they laid her down next to Eric’s snoring father. When they got to Maggie’s, all the bodies that had been lying around the yard when they’d left were gone.

“Where’d they go?” Eric asked.

“Wandered home, I would think,” Mr. Trouble said.

While Fiona and Keira combed the front lawn for any stray darts, Mr. Trouble carried Maggie into her room.

“You want us to drive you back to your place?” Mr. Trouble asked as they stepped back onto the front porch.

The eastern sky was starting to glow pink with the coming morning. “I can walk.”

“All right. Then I guess this is it. Fiona will call you with a follow-up in about a week. Standard stuff, nothing to worry about. But other than that…” He shrugged. “I guess it’s time to give you the bill.”

“Bill?” Eric asked, surprised.

Mr. Trouble smiled. “Kidding. We’re done.”

Eric took a breath, relieved. “So it’s over? My life will go back to normal?”

“What is normal, really?”

“Oh, please,” Fiona said. “Eric, everything will be fine now.”

“But remember,” Mr. Trouble said, “everyone always runs into a little bad luck now and then. And there are still jerks out there you’ll have to deal with.”

“I think I can handle them.”

Mr. Trouble gave him a knowing smile. “Yeah. I think you can.”

“Oh,” Keira said, looking quickly toward the house. “Our books.”

“That’s right,” Fiona said.

They ran back into the house and reappeared a few moments later with their book bags.

“Eric, you did great,” Fiona said. She held out her hand. “You could easily be nominated for best client ever.”

Eric shook. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. I was kind of impressed,” Keira said.

He shook her hand, too.

“If you want the car, it’ll be out at the abandoned farm,” Mr. Trouble said. “I’ll leave the keys under the seat. Oh, and there’s the truck, too. But that’s still over at the first camp.”

“I think I’ll be fine without them.”

“Your call.” He gave Eric a strong handshake. “Take care.”

“I will.”

Mr. Trouble and his sisters headed for the sedan. Halfway there, Keira stopped and turned back.

“I forgot. I have something for you.” She walked back, pulled out her copy of Noriko’s Revenge #11, and handed it to him.

“Seriously?” he said.

She smiled. “Yeah. I’ve read it five times already.”

“Thanks.”

Fiona had already taken the front passenger seat so Keira climbed into the back. Mr. Trouble was still outside, standing next to the open driver’s door.

“You still have the unicorn necklace, right?” he asked.

Eric laughed. “Yes.”

“Hold on to it. If anything comes up, and I seriously doubt anything will, you just give that a rub and one of us will get in contact with you.”

“Thanks.”

Mr. Trouble gave him a wave, then hesitated.

“And Eric.”

“Yeah?”

“Stay out of trouble.”

30

Before leaving Maggie’s place, Eric cleaned up — folding his and the Trouble sisters’ blankets, throwing away the pizza boxes from the previous night, and washing the dishes they’d used. It was a good thing he did, too. They had all forgotten about the note Fiona had written. He threw that away and replaced it with one he wrote:

Dear Mrs. Ortega,

Thank you for dinner and letting me stay over. Forgot I had something to do with my parents this morning so I’m going home. Fiona and Keira had to leave, too. They said thanks.

Tell Maggie I’ll see her on Monday.

Eric

When he arrived home, he checked to see if his mother was still in the bedroom. He’d had this crazy thought on the walk back that she’d been taken again. But she was there, still sleeping.

He plopped down on his own bed and pulled out the copy of Noriko’s Revenge #11. His intention was to read it cover to cover, but he only got halfway through the second page when he fell fast asleep.

When he finally got up, it was almost 1 p.m. He wandered into the living room and found his father sitting in his recliner, reading the paper.

“There’s the sleepy head,” his father said. “Must be something going around. I didn’t get up until late, either.”

Eric started to head into the kitchen to get a glass of water, then paused. “What about Mom?”

“Your mother?” his dad said, looking confused.

Eric stopped breathing, sure that his father was about to say his mother was still on a business trip.

“All I know is, she was up before me.”

“I just live in a house full of lazy men, that’s all there is to it.”

Eric turned around. His mother had just come out of the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand.

“Thirsty, sweetie?” she asked, holding it out to him.

“Thanks.” After he took a sip, he said, “So how was the business trip?”

“Business trip?” his mother asked. “What business trip?”

“The one you’ve been on for the last four days?” he said tentatively.

She put a hand on his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

He stared at her for a moment, and saw that she had no idea what he was talking about. His father seemed equally clueless so he forced out a laugh and said, “Just…kidding.”

* * *

When Eric went to school Monday morning, he couldn’t help but be nervous. Despite a wonderful weekend with his parents, the past two weeks had been complete disasters. It was hard to believe the theme wouldn’t continue. But his bike — which he and his dad had repaired on Sunday morning — held up just fine on the way to school, getting him there with plenty of time to get to his locker before class. And while the smell of orange soda still hung in the air, the janitorial staff had cleaned off what they could and had scraped most of the gum from his lock. His books weren’t in the best condition, but they’d had enough time to dry out so that was good enough for him.

He was starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was really over. Then he turned the corner and came face to face with Peter Garr.

They stared at each other for a second. Then, before Eric could move out of the way, Peter said, “Sorry,” stepped around him and walked off.

Eric was so shocked by the encounter he was almost late to class. But when he got to his desk Ms. Lindgren hadn’t even arrived yet.