“No!” Addy yanked the comic away and hid it behind her back.

“Why not? I want to see what happens next!”

What happens next? Addy had to figure out what was happening now, not what the next crazy thing would be!

“Let me think!” she said. “Give me one second before we do anything we can’t undo, okay?”

Would it make a difference to turn the page? If they were being stopped by a force field, there must be a reason!

The train seat next to them was empty. Addy slumped down, and Wylder slid in next to her. She held the comic on her lap, chewing on her lip. Catnip crawled out of her bag and nestled for a moment in the crook of her arm before sniffing his way to her shoulder and curling up under her hair. She could sense Wylder twitching at the sight of the rat, but ha, get over it! She gazed out the round window for a few silent minutes. Mountains, mountains, mountains.

“What I want to know is, how did we get in here?” said Addy. “One day Uncle Vim is drawing a picture with an ordinary pencil on an ordinary flat piece of paper. And the next day—well, not the next day, because it had to go to the printer and everything—but you know what I mean. Somehow, we’re inside it, like it’s a whole 3-D world. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Wylder stared at her. “Your name is Addy Crowe! I’m so stupid. Viminy Crowe is your uncle?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” he said. “Excuse me, but I have to say: THAT’S INCREDIBLY COOL!” His mouth actually fell open. “Viminy Crowe is your uncle?”

“I just said that, didn’t I?” But Addy couldn’t help smiling a little. She didn’t get to gloat too often. Her mom would say that gloating was unkind, a way of making other people feel small. But if a person was already smaller—shorter, anyway—maybe it only made you feel bigger?

“That’s how you know what the story is! He probably told you stuff going along, right?”

“He lives with us, my mom and me.”

“What about your dad?”

“My dad … isn’t there. Anymore.”

“Mine neither,” said Wylder, quietly. “He moved out when I was a little kid.” He wasn’t so smiley now.

“We were the ones who had to move out,” said Addy. “My dad got a girlfriend last year, so now he lives with her instead of us.”

“Yuck,” said Wylder.

“So my uncle Vim moved in—you know, to help my mom during the crisis and stuff. And because he left his job and didn’t have any money. It’s a small apartment, so Vim sleeps on the couch. He uses our kitchen table as his so-called studio.”

“That’s why Nelly looks like you!”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re, like, famous now!”

“Uh, no.”

Wylder seemed weirdly excited to discover this new fact about her. “Hey, is it true—the story on the Internet? That the red parts are all printed with blood?”

Addy rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You believe that sludge? Some fans are so crazy they’ve offered to donate their own blood.”

“So that’s why yours is the only copy of the Summer Special!”

“Well, plus my uncle’s own sample.” Her stomach turned over. “All the others are waiting for shipping documents or something. But Vim has a meeting this afternoon with Magnus Snayle, the president of FunnyBones. He was going to give him this”—she waved the comic book—“with an autograph, as a thank-you present. He’s going to kill me for taking it and disappearing onto another planet.”

“It’s not another planet,” said Wylder. “It’s more like time travel. We’re still in Canada, but in 1899.”

“Uncle Vim’s demented fictional version of 1899,” said Addy. “Inside a comic book! It’s impossible.”

“Yeah, but cool!”

Addy’s eyes prickled. “I just hate feeling like I’m messing up my uncle’s whole career.”

Catnip woke up and nuzzled her neck for a moment, almost as if he knew she needed soothing. Then he scuttled down her arm and into the shoulder bag bunched on the seat.

“You’ve read the whole thing, right?” Wylder tapped the comic.

“Like two hundred times.”

“So you already know what’s on the next page, right?”

“I guess so, if I think about it. Except that the page we’re looking at is not supposed to finish with two kids from the twenty-first century slammed up at the end of a train car.”

Wylder wiped his forehead, which was beginning to show teeny drops of perspiration. Addy tried not to be grossed out. She didn’t spend much time this close to boys, especially sweaty ones.

“What was the next thing that was supposed to happen?” said Wylder. “Before we came along?”

Addy ran her finger lightly across the panels, telling him about the characters.

Isadora Fortuna, Lady Adventurer, was on the Gold Rush Express as part of a publicity tour for her upcoming stunt, when she planned to sail a hot-air balloon from Toronto Island all the way to the brand-new city hall on Queen Street.

“Oh,” said Wylder, “and Nelly’s a niece because you are too!”

“Isadora isn’t really her aunt.”

Addy had liked being Uncle Vim’s model for Nelly—until she’d met her face to face. “Isadora caught Nelly trying to pick her pocket, but then she sort of adopted her and brought her along on this train ride. Isadora’s such a great character—she cracks her whip like a lion tamer, shoots stuff blindfolded and is a certified surgeon! The FunnyBones guys think she deserves her own spin-off series, and there’s going to be a video game.”

“All I saw was the part with the Red Riders and the gold,” said Wylder. “And the bit when the villain is yelling at some geeky kid. Same villain from the first issue, right? Lickpenny?”

“Yeah,” said Addy. “His evilness is a little exaggerated, but wait till you read on. The grimmer the better, right?”

“Definitely! And his two … um, what are they? Giant robots?”

“Shh.” Addy glanced down the train car. She could see them from here, two heads with bowler hats, sticking up above the other passengers. “Mechanizmos,” she said. “Serious trouble, trust me.”

“And then I turned the page, and you and Nelly were both in the bathroom.”

“Nelly is only supposed to be in there for a single panel,” said Addy. “When she leaves, she overhears Lickpenny telling Nevins what he’s supposed to do to get ready for the gold heist. Then Isadora comes to find Nelly, and we switch to …”

“To what?” asked Wylder. “Is that where we meet Flynn?”

“This blah-blah is a waste of time.” Addy stood up, slipping her hand into her bag to check on Catnip. “My uncle will be going hairy bananas.” She nudged Wylder’s knees—like, move!—but he just sat there.

“I bet we meet Flynn on the next page, right? That’s why you’re suddenly all ‘Time to go.’ ” He said “Time to go” in a squeaky, prissy voice.

“We. Don’t. Meet. Flynn.” Addy glared at him. “We. Go. Home.”

“Ha!” Wylder grabbed the comic right out of her hand and—THWIP!—flipped the page quicker than you could say “sludge.”

It was like losing your balance and falling up instead of down—like being flipped over, jiggled around and tossed to the ground with a soft thunk.

For a second, Addy thought she was going to throw up, but—whew!—she didn’t. Wylder lay next to her, moaning. Served him right. They were leaning against the foot of a bed. Light poured through billowing muslin curtains that covered windows as high as the ceiling.

BRRRRING! A telephone! An old-fashioned trill, not a musical ringtone.

Right over their heads, someone moved beneath the covers. Addy locked eyes with Wylder. They both ducked lower.

BRRRRING! A shuffle and a bang as the person’s hand felt for the receiver.

“Phwa-llo?”

“Thank you for the wake-up call, little lady. Since I have you on the line, I’d like to order breakfast. Four eggs, sunny-side up, a bison steak and a quart of tomatoes sliced and salted. And please have the ServiDude bring a newspaper, would you?”

Addy caught sight of the comic book under Wylder’s thigh. She slid her fingers across the carpet. She knew that the front page of the newspaper would have a photograph of Isadora Fortuna waving at a flock of admiring pilots-in-training. That photograph would get Flynn Goster moving around the hotel room like a bee in a jar.

“Oh, and griddle cakes for dessert. Thank you.”

They heard the sound of the phone being hung up and a bright whistling as the bedcovers were thrown back. He was getting up! He’d see them! Worse than that, Addy remembered what Flynn Goster wore to bed, and she didn’t care to witness such a spectacle.

She tugged the comic book from under Wylder’s leg and—THWIP!—turned the page back.

Wylder grabbed her arm, but the horrible tumbling was already happening. This time, the landing wasn’t so soft. Addy banged her head on the edge of a seat as Wylder’s lurching body knocked her sideways. They were back where they’d been two minutes ago, next to the door to the dining car.

“Why did you do that?” Wylder yelled. “That was Flynn!”

“No kidding,” said Addy. “And in five more seconds, he was going to find two kids gaping at him in his skivvies!”

Wylder laughed. “Really?” he said. “Your uncle drew Flynn wearing … er, boxers or briefs?”

“He’s got one of those … I think they’re called union suits. Red. All one piece.” She gestured, neck to knees, to show what she meant. “Button up the front and, you know”—she waved a hand behind—“a flap at the back.”

“Let me see!” Wylder reached for the comic again, but she swung away, bumping her bag against the seat.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson?” said Addy. “Stop trying to grab the comic! Holy cannoli! We don’t have time for this!”

But Wylder wasn’t listening. He wasn’t listening because he was shrieking. He was shrieking because Addy’s rat had nosed his way out of her bag and raced up Wylder’s leg before leaping to the luggage rack above their heads.

“Catnip! Come back!” Addy lunged, but the rat was too quick. He executed a magnificent flip and landed in the center of the aisle before zigzagging under the seats several rows ahead. Addy’s final view was the flourish of a long tail just before it disappeared from sight.