“What are you doing here?” Mr. Mustard stood beside a shelf full of old clocks. For once he wasn’t wearing the mustard jacket.

“You took my truck. I would like it back,” I said. “Please. It was a birthday present from my dad.” Ethan and Izzy nodded.

“I’m sorry, son. The truck held something of mine that an associate failed to return to me. Taking the truck was the easiest way for me to bring it back.”

“So you stole it?” Ethan said. “That’s illegal.”

Izzy shushed him, but Mr. Mustard stopped her.

“It’s unfortunate that it came to that. But I’m very aware that you haven’t been driving the truck legally.” He squinted at us and scratched his chin. “You don’t possess the title. I have tracked it down and acquired it for a nominal fee. That truck is an eyesore, but it held something very special, as I’m sure you know by now.”

For the first time in my life, my spine actually tingled. I shifted my feet and hoped the fidgeting covered my shaking knee. Ethan’s eyes darted from shelf to shelf. His fingers fiddled with the lock on the trunk. This was probably his version of heaven.

“Why would someone who sells antiques watch Newt?” Ethan asked.

Mr. Mustard looked at us for a long time before he answered. “I find oddities. I came out to Murphy Island to investigate the sighting of your lake serpent, see if any interesting opportunities arose. Certain parties will pay for clear photographs and other evidence. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you and recognized the item I had been seeking. Serendipity.”

“Okay, but his dad gave him the truck for a birthday present,” Ethan said. “He needs it to get around the island. He doesn’t even have a bike.”

“Unfortunately, it was not your father’s to give. It wasn’t his fault. The person he won it from had no right to wager it—it was only supposed to be in his possession temporarily.” He straightened a javelina with ridiculous teeth on a shelf. “No need to play coy, children. I know that it’s not merely the automobile that Mr. Gomez here wants. I believe you have discovered something within the truck with powers beyond your comprehension.” Mr. Mustard looked at each of us.

“Can you keep it and let Newt have the truck?” Izzy tilted her head and held her hands out, like the compromise would be a gift. We would be doing him a favor.

“I’ve already removed my item,” Mr. Mustard said. “I no longer want the truck, but it would not be responsible or prudent to return it to unlicensed drivers. Perhaps your father might come to collect it.”

If Dad found out that we’d come to Lincoln alone and found the truck, he would flip.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“There’s one other option,” Mr. Mustard said. “I did some research. That kind of truck is a collectible—new restaurants on wheels pop up all the time. Perhaps we could sell it and split the proceeds. I would take my share and send you the remainder.”

“Like a…valuable collectible?” Ethan smiled. I didn’t think my dad would have won anything that valuable in a bet, but Mr. Mustard told us what we could sell it for, and I choked. It was enough to buy new bikes for half the kids on the island. All I wanted was one.

I’d started getting used to the truck, but the best part was Huxley. If Mr. Mustard sold the truck, I could give Izzy and Ethan some of the money, get a bike, and Mom and Dad could use the rest for supplies to fix the roof, and anything else they needed. Something for Leti too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?” Izzy whispered. “You’re getting so good at driving.”

“I can wait.” Three more years and I could get a driver’s license fair and square. If I wanted one.

I handed over the rabbit’s-foot key, and Mr. Mustard walked us out to the sidewalk. He promised to send the money as soon as he sold it. I wrote down our address and left Dad’s number. It was as fair a deal as we were going to get. I studied the Rooster so I wouldn’t forget the details. I was happy to not have to worry about odd jobs and hiding from the sheriff. But I couldn’t talk to Huxley anymore or take off when I needed space.

I focused on one step at a time. We turned the corner just as Mr. Mustard whistled. He stood next to the Rooster, the back doors open.

“I believe you forgot something, son,” he said. “That bear is quite heavy, and I don’t fancy carrying it to the dumpster without a tetanus shot. You have to take it with you.”

“What?” We jogged back. Huxley was in the back of the truck. “You want us to take the bear?” I looked at Izzy and Ethan. Mr. Mustard said he took his magical item, but Huxley was still inside. “Isn’t that what you’ve been after? You want Huxley because”—I lowered my voice—“because he grants wishes?”

Mr. Mustard looked at us like we were tiny microbes.

Ethan launched into his story about Boxwood, but Mr. Mustard held up a hand. “The power you describe…was perhaps from another source.” He glanced toward the store window. “A hidden source. Something tucked away somewhere unexpected. Or maybe it never existed. Fortune comes and goes like a tide.”

“It wasn’t only good luck,” I said. My neck prickled. “I didn’t believe it either. Until I did.” Mr. Mustard broke eye contact and studied the sidewalk. He crossed his arms.

“Taking the entire truck may have been undue, but I needed time to search away from interference. If you don’t have means to carry the statue, I’m afraid it will end up in the dumpster. It’s too water damaged to sell, and no one will want to buy a truck with a bear in it.”

“We’ll definitely take him,” I said. “We can use that.” I pointed down the street to the abandoned grocery cart on the corner. Ethan ran to get it. I climbed into the truck. Everything looked the same, smelled the same, even creaked the same.

I leaned my forehead on Huxley’s and looked into his green glass eyes. I tried to feel certain about wanting to leave Murphy Island behind, but I wasn’t sure of anything. If I had wished right after we found him, I would have missed so much.

I hugged Huxley’s barnacle-covered body. I took three deep breaths and whispered the most important wish I could, hopefully loud enough for Huxley but too quiet for anyone else.

“Thanks for letting me get my bear.” I looked around the truck. I couldn’t figure out what Mr. Mustard had wanted, if not Huxley. Ethan and Izzy climbed in to help me slide Huxley down to the cart before Mr. Mustard changed his mind.

“Where are the fuzzy dice?” Izzy asked. She was right. They weren’t on the mirror. I pointed toward the fuzzy dice near the skeleton astronaut in the window. Ethan gasped. Mr. Mustard glanced at the window and smiled.

“So there really was something magical? Like, real magic?” I held my breath.

“The world is full of magic, but not always where our gaze lands. This is goodbye, children. Be well.” He said “children” like maybe he wanted to irritate us one last time. It worked. We put Huxley in the cart and headed back down the street. The wheels whined like they’d never had to carry a formerly maybe-magic bear before. We all pushed, Izzy on one side of me and Ethan on the other. Izzy looked back twice.

“He’s still watching,” she said.

“Let’s sneak back and grab that dodo,” Ethan whispered, but we shushed him.

“Just keep walking,” I said.

We didn’t stop until we’d turned two corners. Then we hid behind a tree. Izzy held the shopping cart handle while Ethan climbed over the side and sat down in front of Huxley. We took turns giving each other rides over flat parts and down hills that wouldn’t kill us. I almost knocked out my teeth when Ethan hit a curb.

“Switch,” Izzy said, and held the cart steady so I could climb out.

“Hang on.” I held the street sign for balance while I stretched out my knee.

I knew this street. One way led back to the harbor and the other crossed Carlos’s road and led almost right to the street where my grandma lived. We could go straight to abuela’s. She would feed us fideo and albóndigas. We could find the raspado man and sit on abuela’s porch steps, crunching ice and telling everybody how we’d figured it all out. Carlos could give Ethan and Izzy a ride back to the dock, and I could stay there. I wouldn’t ever have to get on the ferry unless I felt like it.

But I wouldn’t see Ethan, Izzy, Leti, or my parents. Or Chuck, and Margie and the other goats. There would be no festival next year—at least, not for me. My grandma might not let me keep Huxley. But she would be happy to see me. It would be a new start. I closed my eyes and tried to feel a pull, like a tide, but I had to make the decision myself.

I pushed the cart down the sidewalk, and after a minute Izzy and Ethan followed. My leg hurt, but I wanted to push Huxley myself. The squeaky wheels dragged over the cement like they wanted to turn around, but I knew the way.