He trotted along the path to the Nest, hoping the others would think to reunite there. His body began to tingle, his flesh began to ripple, and, an instant later, the freckles were gone and his olive complexion had returned.

Down under the trees near the creek, it became hard to see, so Trevor switched on the little flashlight that he was still carrying. Winding through the undergrowth into the Nest, the flashlight beam soon revealed Pigeon, Nate, and Summer all waiting for him. Like Trevor, their appearances were no longer under the influence of the Melting Pot Mixers.

“Glad you made it,” Nate said, sounding relieved and giving Trevor a high-five. “We were just talking about going back for you.”

“I’m fine,” Trevor said. “The shock to the dude chasing us gave me a good head start. That guy had me pinned down for a while, though. I wound around a lot on my way back to make sure he wasn’t tailing me.”

“You still have the pocket watch?” Nate asked.

Actually, Trevor had forgotten that he was carrying it. He pulled it out of a pocket and shone the flashlight at it. A crack ran across the glass shielding the face. “Did you guys break it?” Summer asked.

“My bad,” Nate admitted. “When I was the doll, and you sounded the alarm, I had to rush. I jumped down from the third shelf of the cabinet.”

Pigeon picked up the watch and held it to his ear. Then he wound the tiny knobs and held it to his ear again. “Sounds like it still works,” he said. “Just needed to be wound.”

“But on top of breaking the watch, we didn’t even get the book,” Summer reminded them. “I knew I should have gone inside.”

“I wish you had,” Nate huffed. “Then we probably wouldn’t have either the pocket watch or the book, and I could be the one complaining.”

“Nate did a good job,” Trevor said. “We didn’t have much time. Who was that guy, anyway?”

“Whoever he was, he had a crossbow,” Pigeon said. “He was going to shoot me.”

“Only after you approached him with lightning crackling from your fingertips,” Summer said.

“He didn’t seem very intimidated that we could jump so high with the Moon Rocks,” Nate said. He turned to Trevor. “I already told Summer and Pidge how he chased us and how you shocked him.”

“Sorry about that,” Trevor said.

“About launching me to the moon?” Nate said. “Better than letting that guy have me. I ended up landing all right. You shot me all the way over Main Street, though.”

“I was afraid you were going to die,” Trevor said. “You really took off.”

“It was scary,” Nate said.

“Summer saved me when the guy had me pinned,” Pigeon interjected. “She shocked him down the walkway. Then I shocked him too. We ran off, but I don’t think he chased us.”

“Because he ended up chasing us,” Nate said. “You guys didn’t take his weapon?”

“No,” Pigeon said.

Nate folded his arms. “Then he probably had it when he was hounding me and Trevor. But he never pulled it on us. We almost got away from him—if he was really ruthless he could have shot us.”

“Of course, we could’ve yelled and brought the whole neighborhood running,” Trevor observed. “Whatever that guy is up to, he’s bad news. We definitely need to tell Mrs. White about him.”

“For sure,” Summer said. “So what now?”

Nate shrugged. “We go home, and hope our folks don’t bust us.”

“Do you think they might have noticed we were gone?” Pigeon asked, sounding more terrified than he had all night.

“I doubt it,” Nate said. “That fudge seems to work. My parents were really weird tonight. They went to bed early and didn’t even check on me.”

“Mine have been out of it too,” Trevor said.

Summer pinched her lower lip thoughtfully. “Yeah, my dad usually takes a bigger interest in my day, asks lots of questions. But not lately.”

“Well I just hope my mom is still asleep, or this may be the last you ever see of me,” Pigeon said.

“Do we meet up again tomorrow?” Nate asked.

“My family is going to my grandma’s in Walnut Creek until Sunday night,” Trevor said.

“I’m not allowed to play on Sundays,” Pigeon said sulkily.

“Let’s just meet up at school on Monday,” Summer said. “Trevor, you hang on to the watch until then. We’ll bring it to Mrs. White on the way home.”

“Okay,” Nate said. “You want us to walk you home, Summer? You live the opposite way from the rest of us.”

“I’m not worried,” she said. “It isn’t far, and I’m not Chinese anymore.”

“Still, be careful,” Nate said.

“I’m more worried about after I get home,” Pigeon grumbled.

*****

Pigeon lived on the other side of Monroe Circle from Nate and Trevor. He had not been understating his concerns about his fate should his mother discover he had snuck out in the middle of the night. His mom was hesitant to let him walk home from school. It had taken hours of begging for her to allow him to take the training wheels off his bicycle—and the first time he had fallen, she had insisted that his father screw them back on. What would she do if she learned he had crept out of the house well after midnight? He knew exactly what. His friends would officially go into the “bad influences” category, and he would be grounded until he left for college.

Nearing his house, Pigeon stopped walking, a cold feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. A few more steps forward confirmed what he had glimpsed. There was no doubt about it. Several downstairs lights were on. His doom was sealed.

Maybe he could run away, live in the tunnel slide at the park. Maybe he could pretend he had been sleepwalking. Maybe he could give himself black eyes, bind his wrists with duct tape, throw himself in a ditch, and wait for a police officer to discover him. His mom couldn’t blame him for getting kidnapped!

Even as those ideas shuffled through his mind, Pigeon discarded them. There was no getting around this. He had to face his fate. There was no using a Moon Rock to jump up to his window and sneak inside. If the lights were on, his mom had already checked his bed and was sitting downstairs, staring at the front door, waiting for him. She had probably already called the police. And the F.B.I.

With a hopeless sigh, Pigeon trudged up the porch steps and tried the door. He was relieved to find it unlocked, as he had left it. His mom was not in the living room or the entry hall. He heard something rustle in the kitchen. She was playing it cool, pretending not to be worried. Maybe he should just sneak up to bed. No, she would only be angrier if she knew he was trying to deceive her.