“Because he called me Tick. The evil Chu, back in Deer Park, kept calling me Atticus. My science teacher has called me Tick since the first day I met him. Never once has he called me Atticus. I can’t believe I didn’t think about that back then.”

“No matter,” Master George said. “I seriously doubted this could be the Reginald from the Fourth, but we had to be certain. Sato, please free the man.”

Mr. Chu sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief as Sato took off the handcuffs.

“I’m sure the two of you will have much to discuss as you get caught up on things,” Master George said. “Mr. Chu, I hope you’ll serve as a tutor to our young friend back in Reality Prime, help him grasp the complexities of the science that is so closely linked to his welfare.”

Mr. Chu didn’t look much happier than he had when he’d first entered the room, but he tried his best to smile. “I think Tick has a lot to teach me first.” He walked over and took Tick’s hand, and squeezed it hard as he shook it. “I’ll be expecting a full report, you hear me? And it’d better be good to explain everything I just went through. I think I’ll be avoiding dark streets and alleys for awhile.”

“Deal,” Tick said. “As long as you give me a full report too. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

Mr. Chu laughed, his face finally winning a victory and looking genuinely pleased, like the teacher Tick had always known. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Very well, then,” Master George said. “Sato, please take Mr. Chu and debrief him one last time. I’d also like to speak to him before we send him on his way.”

“Follow me,” Sato said curtly, standing at the door.

Mr. Chu patted Tick on the shoulder. “Real pleasant people you associate with, Tick. Can’t wait to spend some more quality time with your friend Sato here.”

“Could be worse—could be Billy ‘The Goat’ Cooper.”

“Good point. See ya back in Deer Park. Take care, okay?”

“You, too.”

Mr. Chu hesitated, sharing a long look with Tick, then left with Sato, who closed the door behind him.

“Right, then,” Master George said, clapping his hands together. “Atticus, I’ll put all of your study materials, this binder, and your other belongings in a suitcase of sorts and wink it straight to your room. I’m quite good at that by now. I promise not to destroy any more walls. As for you—your parents are waiting for you to appear in the forest near your home. Near the heavy Chi’karda spot we’ve used in the past.”

Tick blinked. “Right now?”

The old man nodded. “Right now.”

Despite everything, a laugh croaked out of Tick’s parched throat. “Sweet. I’m ready.”

Master George’s face grew serious. He came closer and sat back down in his chair, leaning in toward Tick. “Atticus, my dear young friend. I just don’t know what to think. There has to be some secret about you we’ve yet to discover, some . . . well, something, anyway. Your abilities and influence over Chi’karda are just mind-boggling, and there has to be an explanation. I give you my word, we’ll not rest until we figure it out.”

“I know what it is,” Tick whispered. “I’m a freak. Mistress Jane only tried to help me because she wanted my freak-boy powers.”

Master George’s face reddened, his lips trembling. Then he composed himself before speaking again. “Listen to me, young man, and listen to me well. Though I fully expect to discover something uncanny about you and your relationship to Chi’karda, I also know this: a large part of it has to do with you, and the kind of person you are.”

“What do you mean?”

Master George leaned forward even more. “You, my friend, have an incredible amount of conviction. Courage. A sincerity of belief and principle. All of those things that make up the very essence of the power of Chi’karda. In other words, a considerable portion of your extraordinary gift comes from the simple fact that you very much want to do good. And for that, I’m proud to call you my friend.”

Tick wasn’t sure what he felt at that moment, but he knew if he tried to talk, it would come out sounding like a frog.

“And now,” Master George said, patting Tick’s hand, “off you go. I suspect your parents are quite anxious to have you home.”

Chapter

52

One Week Later

Touchdown!”

Tick’s dad leapt off the couch, dropping his game controller onto the floor as he started doing a horrific dance, waving one arm about like an elephant’s trunk as he shimmied back and forth.

“Tippy toe left, tippy toe right,” Dad sang. “Our team’s the best, we’re outta sight!”

“Dad,” Tick groaned, not too happy about losing once again in Football 3000—in overtime, no less. The awful victory dance only made it worse, and the old man didn’t show signs of stopping anytime soon, shaking his larger-than-usual rear end from side to side.

“Watermelon, watermelon, watermelon rind! Look at the scoreboard and see who’s behind!”

“Dad, the neighbors might be watching through the window. Please stop.”

“Two, four, six, eight . . . okay, that’s enough.” Dad flopped back onto the couch, breathing deeply as if he’d just run a six-minute mile. “Whew, all that celebratin’ can really wear a man out. I wish you’d win more often and make it easier on me.”

“Hilarious. One more game?”

Dad leaned over to pick up the controller. “You sure enjoy punishment, don’t you?”

Just then, Tick’s mom walked in, and without saying a word, she sat next to her husband. Tick felt his heart drop when he saw the look on her face, like she’d just been told she had cancer or lost a child.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Tick asked, feeling the controller slip out of his hands.

She didn’t answer for a moment, staring at the floor. Finally, she looked up, her eyes haunted. “Atticus, I can’t take it anymore. I have to tell you something. I told your dad several months ago—when he broke the news to me that you’d gone off to be recruited by the Realitants.”

“Honey—” Dad began, but cut off at a sharp look from Mom. “Well, I guess he does deserve to know.” He glanced over at Tick. “Don’t worry—it’s pretty neat, actually.”