“Are you sure you didn’t write the message yourself somehow? Or imagine it?”

Micah slapped his hand against the quipu’s poster board and glared at Jenny. “You’re just being stubborn!”

They were standing at the base of the oak tree, loading Jenny’s things into her bike wagon. “How could I imagine something like that?”

“You could have dreamed it?”

“In the middle of class!”

“We did stay up really late last night.”

The suggestion sounded halfhearted at best. Jenny refused to believe that the wind Micah had felt and the arrow in his notebook and the message the quipu had spelled out were magical phenomena, but she was having a hard time coming up with explanations for what else they could be. She also couldn’t deny the fact that the wind had started blowing outside just as Micah saw the message, and it hadn’t stopped since. It was more of a normal wind than a gale now, but it was undeniably followable.

“Let’s just . . . not argue about it anymore, okay?” Micah dropped The Big Book of Big Tops into the wagon. “What is this thing anyway?”

“It’s Watson’s Pooch Prowler,” Jenny said, as if that should make perfect sense. Then she saw the expression on Micah’s face and giggled. “Watson’s my mom’s German shepherd. They go everywhere together.”

She flipped up the bike’s kickstand. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. My parents will worry. But are you sure you don’t want me to tell your aunt that you didn’t have anything to do with the feathers?”

Micah shook his head. “I’ll stay out of her way.”

Jenny’s smile drooped a little. After a moment of awkward silence, she said, “Sooo . . . what are we going to do about the message?”

“I’m going to do what it says of course.”

“I know but . . .” she trailed off.

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” Micah promised. “If you want me to, I mean. I’ll tell you about the Lightbender and the Bird Woman and the Strongmen and everything else.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re going to go without me?”

Micah had thought she understood. “I have to go tonight, Jenny. The quipu said midnight. I think that’s when the circus will open. Grandpa Ephraim can’t wait any longer.”

One of Jenny’s hands went to a braid and started to pull at it. “I know that,” she said. “That makes sense, but . . .”

“But what?”

She frowned. “I . . . I can’t let you go alone. It was like an adventure we were having together. I’ll go with you.”

He shook his head. “Your parents.”

Jenny drew herself up to her full height. “I’ll sneak out of the house.” She said this the way other people might announce their intention to dismantle a bomb.

Micah gaped at her.

She threw her leg over the bicycle seat. “I’ll be back at eleven o’clock,” she said firmly. “Call me if the plan changes. My phone number is 555-3612. It’s simple to remember because the numbers double—three, six, twelve.”

Before Micah could say anything else, she pedaled away.

Avoiding Aunt Gertrudis on the way in turned out to be easier than Micah had thought it would be. She was in the kitchen, talking on the telephone with Dr. Simon.

“. . . gave my brother an extra dose,” she was saying. “For all the good it did. That boy won’t let him have a moment’s rest. Did I tell you I found feathers all over the place? Completely unsanitary . . .”

Micah hurried upstairs before he could hear anything else. He dropped the quipu on top of his bed, and then he went straight to Grandpa Ephraim’s room. The window was open, so the room was bright, and it smelled fresher than usual. But to Micah’s disappointment, his grandfather’s eyes were closed. He crept closer to the bed. If his grandfather’s breath hadn’t been gurgling in and out of his chest, Micah would have been terrified.

He looked so much worse than he had two days ago.

Grandpa Ephraim’s cheeks were thin and sunken, and they were much too pale. His hands were resting on top of his bedspread. Micah only resisted the urge to reach for one of them by reminding himself that after tonight everything would be better.

Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

His aunt’s voice was just a mumble through the floorboards, but as long as he was quiet, he would know when she finished her conversation with Dr. Simon. He unlaced his shoes and slipped out of them so that he could walk on sock feet.

Micah went around the room, looking at the photographs. Every now and then he would tip one a bit to one side or the other to make it crooked. When he did this, the walls looked like Grandpa Ephraim was in charge of them instead of Aunt Gertrudis. Then he reached the corner by the chest of drawers and saw that one of the pictures was already askew.

It wasn’t very crooked, but every other frame in the room had been so perfectly straight that Micah could have balanced a marble on top without worrying that it might roll off. In the photo, a younger Grandpa Ephraim was wearing a gray suit. He had his arm wrapped around the waist of a pretty woman in a polka-dotted dress. She was very small. The top of her head didn’t reach Grandpa Ephraim’s shoulder. This was Micah’s grandmother.

He carefully took the photograph off the nail that held it to the wall. He turned it over in his hands, looking for any clues that might tell him what made it different.

The back of the old wooden frame had a tiny clasp. Micah carefully lifted it with his thumbnail so that he could slip the picture out. The photograph was cool and smooth against his fingers, and as Micah pulled it free, he could see that there was loopy writing on the back of it.

Ephraim & Victoria Tuttle in the garden,

photographed by Gertie

He thought it was wonderful that Aunt Gertrudis had once been nice enough to take pictures of people. He wondered what had gone wrong.

The mattress creaked behind him, and he looked over his shoulder. Grandpa Ephraim was stirring in his sleep. Micah hastily stuck the picture back into its frame.

“Micah?” Grandpa Ephraim sounded groggy.

He rushed over to perch on the edge of the bed. He reached for his grandfather’s hand and held it gently in his own. It was so much thinner and colder than he remembered it being.

“Look at you,” said Grandpa Ephraim. His eyes were clear, but his head stayed pressed into his pillows. He didn’t lean toward Micah like he usually did. “Growing again. They must be teaching you how to be a giant at school.”

It was an old joke they had shared because Micah was short for his age. Grandpa Ephraim used to say it every day when he came home from school.

“I don’t think I’m any taller,” Micah replied. “But I have learned something important.” He bent close to his grandfather’s ear. “Circus Mirandus is coming. Tonight. I’m going to get the Lightbender for you.”

Micah hated to admit it, even to himself, but a part of him was disappointed that this news didn’t make Grandpa Ephraim leap from his bed with joy.

“Tonight, is it?” he asked. “You’ll have to make sure you see everything for me. And say hello to the elephant. We always got along well.”

“I’ll have time for that later,” Micah said. “First we have to get the Lightbender to come for you.”

Grandpa Ephraim sighed. His eyes held Micah’s. “Promise me you’ll see some magic tonight. Promise me you won’t let worrying get in your way. If you just go, my miracle will take care of itself.”

“But . . .”

“Promise me.” His voice was so serious.

“I promise,” Micah said reluctantly.

His grandfather gripped his hand tighter. “I want you to have something. For luck.”

He nodded toward the bedside table, and Micah opened the top drawer. Inside were a Bible, two neckties, tarnished silver cuff links, and one long, dirty bootlace.

Micah’s breath caught at the sight of the lace. His fingers hovered over it. “Are you sure?”

“It’s waited a long time to go back to Circus Mirandus.”

The bootlace wrapped several times around Micah’s wrist, and it was rough and leathery against his skin. He knotted it carefully with his free hand.

“A nice strong Tuttle knot,” Grandpa Ephraim said approvingly. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

He hesitated then, as if he wanted to say something important and couldn’t decide whether he should or not. Micah leaned toward him, but Grandpa Ephraim shook his head. “Tell me about the last couple of days,” he said. “What have you been up to?”

Micah thought of his quipu and of the wind. He thought of spending the night in the tree house because Aunt Gertrudis had kicked him out.

“I’ve got a friend,” he said.

Grandpa Ephraim’s smile stretched across his whole face. “Do you?” he asked. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s a girl.”

“Oh really?”

Grandpa Ephraim waggled his eyebrows, and Micah snorted. “Noooo,” he said. “She’s a friend. Her name’s Jenny Mendoza, and she’s the smartest person in the whole fifth grade.”

“She must be if she’s friends with you.”

Micah told him all about the project and Jenny coming over to help finish it. He tried to make it sound like they had spent all night in the tree because it was an interesting thing to do. He could tell Grandpa Ephraim didn’t believe him by the way that his eyes narrowed.

“Anyway,” Micah said hastily. “Jenny’s coming with me tonight. She’s going to help me get to Circus Mirandus.”

Grandpa Ephraim’s noisy breathing paused for a second. “You’re taking her with you?”

“She doesn’t live far from here. I’ll keep her safe.”

Grandpa Ephraim’s lips twitched up at the corners. “I’m sure you will. And I’m sure I won’t ever mention your friend’s escapades to her mother and father.” He paused. “But, Micah, have you considered that the circus might not be the right place for her?”

Micah frowned.

“She sounds a little . . . rigid,” Grandpa Ephraim said carefully. “And Circus Mirandus is not a rigid sort of place.”

“She’s my friend,” said Micah.

Grandpa Ephraim searched his face. He nodded slowly. “You just be yourself tonight, Micah. Who you are is more than good enough.”

Before Micah could ask what he meant, the mumble of Aunt Gertrudis’s voice downstairs stopped.

“I think that’s your cue to leave,” said Grandpa Ephraim. “Best not run afoul of her when you’ve got such big plans in the works.”

Micah agreed wholeheartedly. He slid off the bed and bent down to grab his shoes. He was just standing up when he saw the feather. It was a red so bright that it almost made his eyes water, and it was lying on the floor at the corner of the bed’s footboard. There was no way Aunt Gertrudis could have missed it when she cleaned the room that morning. Micah grabbed it.

“Has Chintzy been back already?” he asked as he twirled the pristine feather between his fingers. “Why? What did she say?”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” The expression on his grandfather’s face was strange. “She just had some questions for me.”

Micah hesitated. “I don’t understand . . .”

“It’s fine, Micah. I promise.”

Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

“Hurry,” Grandpa Ephraim said. “Go.”

Micah went.