Chapter 15

THURSDAY, MAY 14

2:48 P.M.

MASON’S NEIGHBORHOOD, INDIANA

Teleporting didn’t feel like anything strange, just like when I’d used the music box. In the blink of an eye, we found ourselves standing on the street corner of a familiar neighborhood. Well, familiar to me, at least.

“My house is just a couple of blocks away,” I said, shutting the atlas and flicking the toothpick into the road.

Avery took her hand off my shoulder, and I handed her the book of road maps. She pulled off her top hat and dropped it in.

As we walked, I wondered if the neighbors would notice my new friend and her talking bunny. Over the last year—since my dad’s arrest—I’d had the constantly growing feeling that people were watching my mom and me. I’d heard their whispers more than once, but I didn’t need to know what they were saying to read the looks on their faces.

It was stuff like: “There goes that poor Morrison boy.”

Or: “Can you believe his dad would try to rob a bank? Did he seriously think he would get away with it?”

Or: “It would have been better if the man had just pleaded guilty. Pretending to be innocent gives his wife and boy false hope.”

It wasn’t false hope for me. My mom and I had been going to a therapist for months to talk about it. Mr. Morano had been trying to help us accept that my dad was guilty. I went along with everything he said, but there was always a little piece of me that just couldn’t believe it. And I was more sure of it than ever, now that Magix had found me guilty of a magical crime I hadn’t committed.

“Home sweet home,” I said, pausing on the sidewalk and pointing at my house.

The houses in this neighborhood weren’t very big, and they all looked pretty similar. They were packed close together, and everybody had a fence as if trying to defend what little land they did have. Mom did a good job caring for our small front yard. She’d planted some tulips last year, and lots of them were still in bloom.

“Anything special we ought to know about your old lady?” asked Fluffball.

For a moment, I thought about telling him that she really didn’t like animals. “She’s nice,” I said instead. “Works hard for our family. I guess I should mention that Mom’s been a little paranoid since, uh . . . since my dad was arrested.”

“Paranoid?” asked Avery.

“Well, she installed a security system on the house a few months ago. And she always keeps the front door locked.”

“But you’ve got a key, right?” Fluffball asked.

“Yeah,” I said. Then I grimaced. “With my cell phone, in my backpack, at my school.”

“Nice work, genius,” the rabbit said. “How are we supposed to get inside?”

“I know the garage code,” I replied, grateful that my house wasn’t as high security as Magix Headquarters, so there was no risk of getting blended up if I entered the code wrong. “Or we can just ring the doorbell,” I continued. “It’s Thursday, so Mom should be home.”

Avery started up the walk, but I grabbed her sleeve.

“Fluffball’s got to be quiet from here on,” I said. “We have one of those fancy doorbells that takes video of everyone who comes onto the porch.”

“And you’re ashamed of me?” Fluffball retorted. “Is that it? You’re ashamed to be seen coming home with an Angora rabbit? It’s because I talk, isn’t it.”

“Well . . . yes, actually,” I answered.

Fluffball grunted and lowered his ears as we moved onto the porch. Avery pressed the doorbell, and I stared at the little camera right above it.

“It’s me, Mom,” I called. “I guess I lost my key.”

There was a moment of silence, and then I heard both deadbolts unlock and the door whipped open.

“Mason!” she cried, gesturing Avery and me inside. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at piano lessons.”

My eyes fell to the bracelet on her right wrist. It was made of thin braided pieces of leather, with a few beads set in the middle. Not really my mom’s style at all. She definitely would have taken it off if she hadn’t received magical instructions not to.

“I had to run home to ask you a question,” I replied. “I’ll go back soon.” Didn’t she think it was strange that I’d been at piano lessons since yesterday?

“And who’s this?” Mom asked, turning to Avery.

“Avery,” the girl answered. “Avery Lobster.” Then she added, “Ma’am.”

“Avery and I take piano from the same teacher,” I said, hoping it would explain why we were together.

My mom was about to close the front door behind us when Fluffball wriggled in the crook of Avery’s arm.

“Mason!” Mom shouted, as though I’d done something terrible. She jerked the door all the way open again, pointing out to the front yard. “You know how I feel about pets in this house!”

I did know. And it wasn’t good.

“Pet?” Fluffball suddenly yelled back, his ears standing straight up. “Watch who you’re calling a—”

Avery wrapped her hand around the bunny’s entire head, muffling his voice.

“What did you say, Mase?” Mom asked. Did she really think I had such a deep rumbly voice?

“Nothing, Mom,” I said. “We’re happy to stick the bunny outside.”

Avery moved onto the porch, whispering something to Fluffball before setting him on the ground. Then she stepped back inside, and Mom finally shut the door.

“If it’s okay, we have a couple of questions for you, Mrs. Morrison,” said Avery as Mom led us into the kitchen.

“This sounds like an interrogation.” Mom laughed. “I’d say we’ve had enough of those in our family.”

Sometimes Mom joked about Dad. Our therapist told me it was just how she dealt with the stress, but it made me a little sad. Like Mom didn’t believe Dad was innocent anymore. Like she had finally given in to what society had told us to believe.

“Nah, Mom,” I said casually, taking a seat on a barstool at the counter. “We just wanted to know where you got that music box for my book report.”

“How did that go?” Mom turned to the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Umm . . . good. I think.” And by good, I meant horribly terrible, leading me to become the most wanted criminal in a secret magical organization.

“We want to take the music box back to whoever you borrowed it from,” Avery said.

“It’s all the way across town,” Mom answered, rinsing a plate and placing it in the dishwasher. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just take it to work with me tomorrow.”

“We don’t mind,” I replied. “My piano lessons are all the way across town, too, and we’re headed back there. I’d like to personally return the music box. Say thanks for letting me borrow it.”

I saw a smile cross Mom’s lips. “That’s very thoughtful of you. I borrowed it from Tom Pedherson. I’ll text you his address.”

“Actually, could you write it down?” I asked. “I accidentally left my phone at piano lessons.”

“Sure,” she said.

“How did you know Tom Pedherson had this particular music box?” Avery asked.

“Remember when I went to that work party last month?” Mom asked me. I nodded. It had been a memorable night for me, too. I’d eaten two microwave dinners and played a lot of video games while she’d been gone. “Tom won the music box at the party. He was very happy about it.”

“Where do you work?” asked Avery.

“True Cost,” said Mom. “It’s a billing company. We call people who haven’t paid their bills.”

“And how exactly did Tom win the music box?” Avery asked. I was worried she was going into full detective mode, but my mom didn’t seem to notice.

“It was a raffle,” she answered. “They had lots of prizes. I won that gift card to Smoothie Palace.”

“Interesting,” Avery said. “I was wondering if you could give me a list of everyone who has entered your house in the last week.”

Mom paused, a dripping bowl hovering above the open dishwasher as she glanced suspiciously at the girl out of the corner of her eye. Okay. Avery had obviously gone too far with the questioning.

“Can I borrow your phone, Mom?” I cut in, hoping to break the tension. “I wanted to text Hamid and tell him I don’t have my phone.”

Hamid was a few years younger than me, but he was the only kid in the neighborhood willing to hang out with me after my dad’s arrest.

“It’s over there by the toaster,” Mom said, finally loading the bowl.

I jumped up and snatched the phone as Avery followed me out of the kitchen.

“Why were you questioning her like that?” I hissed once we were in the living room. “My mom’s not a suspect!”

“Of course she is,” Avery answered. “She gave you the music box that linked you to the theft at the boon church.”

“Are you serious?” I cried. “My mom didn’t frame me for a crime. That’s ridiculous.”

“I admit that it seems unlikely,” said Avery. “But a good detective considers every possibility. That includes your mom. And anyone else who entered your house earlier this week who could have planted those stolen boons in your bedroom.”

“Interrogating her isn’t the best way to see who’s been in my house.” I held up my mom’s phone.

“The doorbell camera?” A hopeful look spread across Avery’s face.

I nodded. “I think it stores ten days of footage in the cloud. It’ll just take a minute to load. Let’s go up to my room to look for more clues while we wait.”