hen Julian opened his eyes the next morning, Preston was sitting on his bed in a blue plaid bathrobe and green slippers, reading the funnies in the San Francisco Chronicle. Seeing Julian stir, he carefully folded the newspaper and placed it on Julian’s nightstand.

“Where were you last night?” he asked, his round face stern.

“I was at your dad’s office. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No.” Preston scratched his head. “My mom didn’t know where you were. She called the school and they said you went home sick and mom said we should call the police and then we had takeout Chinese and then I had to go to bed.”

Julian sighed. Somehow this was going to be his fault, he knew.

“Well, I didn’t exactly go home sick. Your dad sent a taxi to pick me up from school. And then he had a meeting and didn’t pick me up until after nine. You were already asleep when I got home. She didn’t really call the police, did she?”

Preston shrugged. “I don’t think so. Are you still sick?”

Julian did a mental check. Nothing hurt. He was a little tired, but he certainly wasn’t going to stay home from school. Not today. He had to talk to Danny.

“No. I’m OK now.” He got up and pulled on a pair of khaki pants with lots of pockets and a Beatles T-shirt one of his mother’s friends had given him. Preston handed him his watch. “Let’s eat,” Julian said. He was starving.

He followed Preston along a hall lined with old family portraits, down a wide staircase, and into the gleaming metallic kitchen. Preston took a half gallon of milk out of the giant refrigerator. Julian opened a cupboard full of cereal boxes, pulled out his favorite, and set it on the counter, along with two bowls and spoons.

They ate silently. Preston read the cereal box. Julian emptied one bowl quickly and then poured himself another. The fabulous array of breakfast cereals was the best thing about living at his uncle’s, he thought. At home, his mom only gave him organic whole-wheat bread or, worse, oatmeal with soy milk. There were advantages to living the good life.

Daphne walked in wearing a white tennis outfit. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“Elbows off the table,” she said to Julian, then gave him a quick once-over. “Well, you don’t look so sick to me.”

Julian shrugged and kept chewing. Daphne stood silently, staring at him, until he was forced to look up and meet her eyes. So much for formalities. She was coming in for the kill.

“Julian. We need to talk.” She sighed deeply. “When you first came here, I thought we had a deal.” She waited until Julian lifted his eyes from his cereal bowl again before continuing. “Every day, it is your responsibility to inform me where you’re going after school and what time you’ll be back. Last night, I had no idea where you were. I almost called the police!”

Julian had just put a large spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “Sorry,” he said, half swallowing. “I thought Uncle Sibley told you.”

“Please don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s not Sibley’s job to keep me posted about your after-school plans. He had a very important meeting yesterday. He is the chief executive officer of IPX!”

Julian heard Danny’s mocking voice in his head. “Mr. CEO.” That’s what he always called Sibley.

“Why are you smiling?” Daphne’s voice was starting to rise like a jet plane taking off. “Do you think it’s funny that your uncle had to interrupt an important phone call to arrange for your taxi ride? Did you expect him to spend the rest of his afternoon trying to get hold of me? You were in his office all afternoon! There is, if I remember correctly, a telephone on his desk. You couldn’t leave a simple message on my cell phone?”

It was important to keep in mind, Julian thought, that this was a woman who was conspiring to send him to math camp.

His aunt was watching his face closely, and she narrowed her eyes.

“What did you do there all that time?”

“I don’t know. I fell asleep, I guess. When I woke up, everyone had gone home. Then Uncle Sibley came to pick me up.”

Just as Daphne opened her mouth, her cell phone rang and she clamped it to her ear. “Hello, Sergei,” she cooed. “I’m running a little late for my lesson.” She paused and gave Julian an exasperated stare. “Yes, he’s fine. He forgot to call is all.” Pause. “I know, I could just strangle him.” Then she turned and walked into the dining room, holding the phone to her ear. She lowered her voice, but Julian could still hear it echoing shrilly. “Yes, six more weeks.” Pause. “Oh, it will be.” Pause. “Oh, I can’t tell you what a relief.”

When Daphne returned, her face was stern again. “Before I go, I would like an apology for yesterday. And please tell me when you’ll be home today.”

“I’m sorry for not calling, Aunt Daphne,” Julian said evenly. “I’m going to Danny’s after school. I’ll probably have dinner there.”

“I’m deducting two points for last night. Be home by eight. No excuses. And do make sure Preston gets to the bus stop on time this morning. Helga’s got an appointment.”

She walked over to Preston and ran her hand down the back of his head, where his pale hair was cut short. “Good–bye, darling. Have a fabulous day at school.”

Preston’s school bus was late. Once he was safely on board, Julian stood at the corner, trying to decide whether to wait for the city bus or run to school. It was ten blocks, but entirely downhill. The day was cool and clear with a breeze blowing up from San Francisco Bay. He could see the majestic orange towers of the Golden Gate Bridge and a giant tanker moving slowly across the slate blue waters of the Bay.

He decided to run. He flew down the steep hill, his feet pounding against the pavement, his backpack slamming up and down, trying to keep his feet moving fast enough to avoid keeling forward. In ten minutes, he was careening through the doors of Filbert Middle School. He arrived in homeroom still breathing hard.

Danny sat slumped over his desk, his head half-buried in his black Giants sweatshirt. Julian grabbed the seat next to him just as Mr. Snipps began the announcements. He scribbled in one of his school notebooks, “Did you get Robin’s e-mail?”

Danny shook his head and made a face that said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. And who’s Robin?

When the bell rang to end homeroom, Julian leaned close to Danny. “You’re not going to believe this. My aunt and uncle want to send me away for the whole summer. To math camp!”

“Math camp! Are you serious?”

Julian nodded.

“The whole summer? That’s brutal.” Danny gave him a pat on the back and knitted his dark brows in mock sympathy. “Hey! What about our basketball league?”

“I know! And I found this crazy e-mail to my uncle from some girl named Robin.”

“Come on, boys,” Mr. Snipps shouted. “Get going! This is not a café here!”

“Come to my house after school,” Danny said. “My mom’ll feed you.”

“What’s that in your hair, Danny? Is that gel?” Julian reached out to touch his shiny black head.

“Hey, back off!” Danny jerked his head away. “It’s my new look. It’ll make me irresistible. The girls will be crazy for it!”

All day, Julian sat watching the clock creep through each forty–five–minute period. By lunch time, he was starting to feel tired and queasy again. Maybe he still wasn’t 100 percent better. When the last bell rang, he headed out to the front steps. The breeze off the Bay cleared his head a little.

“So, what’s with math camp?” Danny asked, coming up behind him.

“You’re not going to believe this!” Julian grabbed his backpack and the boys started walking slowly toward the bus stop. “I found this e-mail from Sibley to somebody—I don’t even know who—and he starts saying all these bad things about me: how I don’t have any discipline or any manners—”

“What? That’s insane. My mom’s always saying,” Danny changed to a mincing Spanish accent, “‘Julian is un perfecto caballerito—a perfect little gentleman. You should be more like him!’”

“Anyway, it’s obvious from the letter Sibley really hates me. I mean, now there’s proof. And then he goes on about how Daphne’s found the perfect camp for me—math camp. And she’s looking for another camp for the rest of the summer that’ll probably be just as horrible.”

“That’s brutal,” Danny said, shaking his head.

“Oh, and it’s in Fresno.”

“Fresno! My cousins live there. It’s so hot in the summer, you’ll be dying to get back to the fog.”

“And Sibley’s saying what a ‘tremendous opportunity’ this is for me—”

“Wait—how did you find all this out?”

The bus pulled up and they went to the back and sat down. Julian explained in detail the taxi ride, his visit to his uncle’s office, the e-mail with his name on it, and his last-minute decision to delete the message. By the time he got to the end of the story, they’d reached California Street and gotten off to wait for the next bus.

“I don’t know.” Danny scratched his head. “I mean, it’s bad. It’s brutal. But what can you do? Maybe you should tell your mom.”

Julian considered. “She’s in China—what could she do? The camp’s probably paid for already. Plus, I’m not supposed to know about it, remember?”

“Maybe she’d come home.”

“No way.” For years, his mom had dreamed of going to China. Finally, she’d gotten a grant that actually paid her to spend five months photographing Buddhist statues and temples. She wouldn’t come home without a genuine emergency.

“Then you’re stuck. Don’t forget, my parents signed me up for two weeks of journalism camp.”

“But that’s here, not in Fresno,” Julian said. “And you like that kind of stuff.” He sighed. “Not that I want to stay with Sibley anyway.”

“Now that his true feelings have been revealed,” Danny said.

The 1 California bus pulled up in front of them. It was so crowded, they had to stand in the aisle, holding on to the metal poles.

“I should just run away,” Julian said as the bus lurched into motion. “Camp out in the Presidio or in Golden Gate Park.” There were lots of places in the park where a kid could hide. If you stayed away from the Children’s Playground or the Japanese Tea Garden, there were huge stretches of trees and bushes with hardly any people.

Danny looked at him in horror. “Are you insane? Do you still have a fever?” He reached up to feel Julian’s forehead. “You want to live in Golden Gate Park at night? With all the homeless people?”

Julian shrugged.

“What about your granny? The one we had dim sum with. Couldn’t you call her?”

“Popo? I haven’t seen her since Chinese New Year. Plus, what could she do?”

“Rescue you from Sibley and his evil plots!”

“I think my mom already asked her about the summer. She couldn’t do it. She was traveling or something. Plus, she works.” His mother thought Popo was a workaholic. She wrote for the Chronicle and was always late for a deadline.

“It might be worth a try. Blood’s thicker than water,” Danny said with an air of authority.

“What does that mean—‘blood’s thicker than water’? I never get that.”

“You’re always so clueless about everything! It’s because you don’t watch enough movies. Blood is your blood connections, your relatives. They stick with you.”

Julian thought about this. Popo was his blood relative, but she lived two hours away in Sacramento and he only saw her on the big holidays—Thanksgiving and Christmas and Chinese New Year. Then there was his mother, but she wasn’t exactly sticking with him. His dad—well, it wasn’t his fault he died.

“Sibley’s blood, right?”

“Of course! He’s your father’s brother. That’s blood. That’s DNA.”

Julian raised his eyebrows.

“Well, there’s another expression,” Danny said, laughing. “La familia no la escogemos. You can’t pick your relatives. Anyway, forget Sibley for now. Who’s Robin?”

Julian pulled the cord for the next stop. “You’ll see when we get to your house. I want you to read her e-mail for yourself and tell me what you think.”

When the bus came to a halt, the boys jumped out the rear door, walked up a block, and turned onto Clement Street. Fruit stands and stalls of kitchenware crowded the sidewalk. They jostled their way past two cafés, an Irish bar, a pizza parlor, a Thai restaurant, a Chinese dim sum place, and the Toy Boat Dessert Café. All around, voices talked and shouted—in English, in staccato Cantonese, in the sleepy murmur of Russian.

They bought two steamed buns at their favorite Chinese bakery, flipped through the sale bins at Green Apple Books, then turned onto one of the avenues and stopped at a pale yellow row house. Once inside, they headed straight to Danny’s room where Danny switched on the computer and turned on the television. A sound like screaming chipmunks filled the room.

“Hey,” Julian shouted over the commercial. “I want you to pay attention to this. It’s important.”

“No problem. I can multitask.” Danny pulled up his e-mail screen. “Ah, the mysterious Robin Elder! We meet at last!” he said, clicking the mouse. Julian flopped down on Danny’s bed.

“Well, what do you think?” Julian asked after a moment, grabbing the remote control and turning down the TV volume.

“Wait . . . wait.”

Julian drummed his fingers against the desk.

“Stop!” Danny yelled. “You’re making me nuts!”

Julian stopped drumming and impatiently unpacked his school books.

Finally, Danny leaned back in his chair. “Well, a number of things are clear. First, your uncle, who we all know is an evil, scary, money-grubbing liar, is even worse than we thought. He’s cutting down redwood trees! Second, this girl has obviously never met Mr. CEO, or she’d never have sent him a crazy e-mail like this. Third . . . I can’t remember what’s third.”

“What should we do? Should we write her back?”

“Of course! We’ve got to write her back! You deleted her message to Sibley. You can’t do that and then not even tell her! That would be rude!”

“But what should we say?”

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “You start.”

“OK. I’ll dictate and you type.”

Danny’s mom was an office manager and she believed that everyone should know how to type. Danny was the only kid Julian knew who typed with all his fingers, like an adult. And his mom brought home all sorts of useful overstock. In addition to his own computer, Danny had a color printer, a fax machine, and a speakerphone.

Julian lay down on Danny’s bed. “Um. OK. How about ‘Dear Robin.’”

Danny made a face. “I’ll just put ‘Robin.’ From what we’ve read, she’s not much of a dear.”

“We don’t even know if she’s a she! Maybe we should ask. But we can’t start off like that! How about, ‘I’m Sibley Carter’s nephew and I accidentally read your e-mail to him. Can you tell us more about yourself and explain what my uncle has to do with your redwood trees? I won’t show your e-mail to my uncle. He didn’t get the last one because I deleted it. Honestly, I didn’t think it would do any good and you might even have gotten into trouble.’”

Danny typed quickly. “Go on.”

Julian paused for a moment. “I guess we should say, ‘Please trust me. Even though I live with my uncle, we aren’t very close.’ Then how should it end?”

Danny just cocked his head. He was still typing.

“How about, ‘You can reach me at this e-mail address. It belongs to my friend Danny, who you can also trust. From, Julian Carter-Li.’”

Danny finished typing and lifted his hands with a flourish.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Julian asked. “I mean, none of this is really our business.”

“Don’t you want to know what your uncle’s up to?”

“I guess so,” Julian said. “You’d better send it before I lose my nerve.”

Danny pressed Send.

“Let me see it.” Julian sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for the mouse.

Danny pulled it away. “Before you get upset, I should tell you I changed a few words.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just to make it sound better.”

Julian grabbed the mouse and clicked:

“Are you crazy?” Julian said when he’d finished reading the e-mail. “Are you trying to make me look like an idiot?”

“No, trust me,” Danny said with enormous sincerity. “It’s better this way. She’ll take us more seriously.”

Julian put his head in his hands. “Danny! You totally screwed this up.”

Danny was silent for a moment. “Oh, come on. It’s not such a big deal. If you really don’t like it, send a retraction. You can type it yourself.” He stood up and offered Julian the chair.

Very slowly, Julian pecked out:

Danny watched over his shoulder. “You really think that’s better?” he asked incredulously. “Oh, well. You know best. Send away.”

Julian sent the e-mail and then said, “I’d better do my homework.” He pulled out his math book. “I have two pages of math for tonight and three still from yesterday.”

Danny sighed heavily and set to work himself, alternately scribbling furiously and singing along with the TV. Julian lay on his stomach, writing neatly and figuring his algebra almost automatically. He was in the middle of solving a particularly difficult equation when he heard a voice at the door.

“Hola, mi hijito.” Luciana Lopez stood leaning against the door frame in her work clothes, a halo of black curls around her face. “How are you, Julian?” she asked with a searching look. “Are you feeling better? Danny said you went home sick.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m better today.”

“Can Julian stay for dinner, Mom? Please?”

“Of course, Julian is always welcome. Papa will be home soon. You boys are doing your homework? Such good boys! But Danny,” she chided, picking up the remote control and turning off the television, “no more TV, OK? These shows, they are baby shows anyway.”

In half an hour, the sound of the running shower told them that Danny’s father, Eduardo, was home. A little later, Luciana called the boys to supper. In the bright kitchen, she questioned them about school. Eduardo told about his afternoon, fixing a backed–up toilet in the middle of a fancy engagement party. Julian wolfed down two platefuls of spaghetti and six pieces of garlic bread, then sat back contentedly.

“Well, you must be feeling better,” Luciana said. “You certainly have a healthy appetite!”

“He’s a growing boy!” Danny said with feigned pride. “And you know, his aunt only feeds our little vegetariano pig knuckles and cow tongue.”

“I had cow tongue once,” Eduardo said. “It wasn’t bad. But you know what they say: You shouldn’t taste anything that can taste you back!”

Julian couldn’t help twisting his tongue about to see if he was tasting it or it was tasting him, which made everyone laugh. When the boys had cleared the table, they rushed back to check Danny’s e-mail, but there was no message from Robin Elder.

“You see,” Julian said bitterly. “She’s never going to write back now. She’s going to think we’re just a couple of stupid kids.”

“Oh, lighten up!” Danny said. “Who’s she? Mother Teresa? She’s probably just a stupid kid too.”

At ten minutes to eight, Julian opened the heavy door to his uncle’s house and found Daphne and Sibley sitting in the living room, with brochures and papers spread out on the coffee table. Julian waved and headed toward the staircase.

“Julian!” his uncle called out. “In a civilized society, it’s customary to greet people when you walk into their home.”

“Hello, Uncle Sibley. Hello, Aunt Daphne,” Julian said. “How are you?”

“Just great,” Sibley answered in a decidedly un-great tone. “And you? Are you feeling better today?”

“Yes, thank you,” Julian replied. He could do “social graces” as well as anyone.

“You finished your homework?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes. At Danny’s.”

“I appreciate that you’re on time tonight,” Daphne said. “One point. But I have to deduct two points for this morning. You didn’t clear away the cereal bowls or make your bed.” She gave him a pitying look. “Julian, I wish I didn’t have to keep doing this, but we’ve talked about it before.”

Julian sighed. Another point in the hole. Daphne had promised to buy him a laptop when he reached twenty-five points, but so far, he hadn’t even gotten above zero.

And now he really could use his own laptop. Now that the mysterious Robin Elder was out there in the universe somewhere and might just decide to write them back.