After school the next day, Thomas and Martin were finishing up a card game of war in his kitchen when Giselle knocked on the front door and opened it before Thomas had a chance to do it for her.

“Thomas…” She paused, out of breath from running. “I asked Mrs. Sharp again about the whistle for you—how you would know if it was time—and she said—” Giselle broke off when Thomas put his finger to his lips.

Giselle clapped her hand over her mouth. “Your dad,” she whispered. “Sorry.”

Thomas shook his head.

“Your aunt?” It was a good guess, but wrong again. Giselle moved Thomas aside and walked to the kitchen. “Martin!”

“Hi, Giselle. Do you want to play war with us? The more players the better.”

“On any other day that would top my list, Martin; but today I just need to speak to Thomas—privately—for a minute.” She stepped back into the hallway, closing the door to the kitchen, and lowered her voice again to a whisper. “She wrote down some questions for you.”

Thomas unfolded the sheet of paper Giselle had extracted from her coat pocket and began to read: “Things to consider: What magic does the bear possess that might help Helen? Do you know how he will help her out of this predicament—?”

Martin opened the door. “What are you guys doing? Don’t you want to—what is that, Thomas?” He pointed to the piece of paper in Thomas’s hand.

As Thomas handed over the piece of paper to Martin, Giselle said, “Thomas, are you sure you want to do this?”

Thomas nodded and proceeded into the kitchen while Martin read.

When he was done, Thomas took the paper in Martin’s hand and wrote on the back: “It’s time to tell Martin about the story. I need more help. If I get the story now, will you read it aloud?” He handed the paper to Giselle to read.

“Sure,” she said, after she’d finished. “If that’s what you want…”

Thomas nodded and went to get the story from the metal box beneath his bed. As he brought it to the table, he could see that Giselle had found a bakery bag of sugar cookies on top of the fridge. She removed six and put them on a plate, which she set in the middle of the table, next to the stack of playing cards.

Martin was silent as Giselle read aloud. More silence followed after she’d slid the pages across the table to Thomas.

“I vote to have her blow the whistle.” Giselle spoke first.

“Me, too,” Martin agreed. “Blow it yesterday.”

“But what will the bear do when he gets there?” Giselle asked, licking sugar from her fingers.

“He gave Thomas’s mom the coat, didn’t he?” Martin reasoned. “He’s bound to come up with something.”

“I agree. The bear will do whatever it takes.”

“You have to be quiet while I think,” Thomas wrote, before crossing his arms on the table and putting his head down.

Go there!

Thomas assumed the rustling noises around him meant that Giselle and Martin were getting comfortable. He didn’t care. His eyes were closed and his nose was touching the surface of the table.

They’re on the rutted road…

Thomas listened to the hum of the refrigerator. His mother and the pony had been walking when he’d left them, leaning against each other. His mother was shivering. The pony was huffing big hot breaths of air, trying to warm her.

This is where I come in.

The owl circled up high at first, then descended slowly. He could see that Helen was shivering, one hand interlaced in the pony’s mane.

She held out her arm for Thomas to land, but instead he flapped his wings to distract her and managed to get the bag from her neck. He lifted the bottom of the bag and watched the whistle tumble out. Clutching it between his talons he showed it to Helen, trying to get across that she needed to blow it now.

Helen grabbed for the string, but missed. “There are so many things you don’t understand,” she said. “It isn’t time yet! Don’t do it, Thomas!”

But Thomas had stopped listening—all he could see was how cold his mother was. He placed the whistle on the ground and blew and blew. It was so much harder with a beak!

A shadow loomed over Thomas. The polar bear had come.

“Oh, Thomas,” Helen cried, her teeth chattering. “What have you done?”

After one long, sad look at Helen, the bear’s sharp claw made a cut down the middle of his chest—so deep that the bear now stepped out of his coat altogether, revealing his dry black skin.

Unrecognizable from the great majestic beast he had been only a moment before, the polar bear now looked like some prehistoric monster.

“Thomas, what have you done?” his mother said again, and sank to the ground, burying her head in the fur.

The bear was disappearing now, into the woods, leaving his coat behind for Helen to use to protect herself from the cold.

“No, no, no.” She stood, gathering the coat to her. “He has given me everything and kept nothing for himself.”

Thomas sat up straight and blinked. He looked at Giselle and Martin looking at him. Why? Why of all possible outcomes was this the one that came to him?

I don’t want this story!

“I shouldn’t have blown the whistle,” he wrote, and underlined it. “Now the polar bear will freeze to death.”

Dave agreed with Thomas, fluttering his wings and looking for an opening so he could leave Thomas alone with his poor choice.

“He doesn’t have to die, does he?” Martin asked. “Mrs. Sharp hasn’t even written it down yet. You can just change it or find a way to make him safe.”

Thomas put his head on the table. He didn’t think he could just erase what he’d imagined in the story. He heard Mrs. Sharp’s words: “Every tale worth remembering has hardships, points where…it seems as if…Well, you are preparing for it right now.”

But what was he preparing for? He didn’t know and he didn’t want to know. He clutched his stomach. He just didn’t want to make another mistake in the story.

Giselle grabbed Thomas by the hand. “You have to go see Mrs. Sharp,” she said. “You have to talk to her so she can help you find a way to fix your story. We’ll write a note for your father that we’re going over to my house. I can read jokes to Martin and…we’ll call his mom so she picks him up from there. That will give you plenty of time.”

Thomas nodded. He wrote the note for his father and set it on the counter, willing Dave to be still. He had to concentrate. Somewhere in the astral plane an innocent bear, a lame pony, and his mother were in danger. And it was all because of him.