Micah didn’t tell her the truth. He said he’d been out riding his bike “for exercise.” Aunt Gertrudis didn’t buy it for a second.

At first, she only lectured, but then she saw the bootlace wrapped around Micah’s wrist. Something Micah hadn’t expected flitted across her face—recognition. An angry flush reddened her cheeks.

“Take it off,” she said in a low voice. “Take that filthy thing off.”

Micah shoved his hand in his pocket to hide it.

“Ephraim’s old lies,” she hissed. “I won’t have it anymore! That thing should be burned.” She swooped down on him and yanked his hand toward her.

“Let go!” Micah struggled to pull his arm free.

“It’s a stupid, stupid joke,” she said. “And it’s dangerous.”

“No it’s not!”

She dug at the lace, but the more she pulled, the more it tightened around Micah’s wrist.

Micah didn’t know what had possessed her. “Stop it, Aunt Gertrudis. It’s mine.”

He snatched his arm as hard as he could and wrenched himself free.

Aunt Gertrudis stood crouched, her hand curled around thin air where his wrist had been a moment before. Slowly, she straightened. “Take it off.”

Micah looked down at the bootlace. The knot he had tied yesterday stared innocently back up at him. He set his jaw and looked his aunt in the eyes. “I won’t.”

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “You’ve turned out just like Ephraim. I should have taken you away from him years ago.” She glared a moment longer, then turned toward the staircase.

“He’s not a liar, Aunt Gertrudis,” Micah said to her retreating back. He wasn’t sure where he’d found the courage. “Circus Mirandus is real. I’ve been there.”

“You’re grounded,” she said without looking at him. She reached up with one hand to smooth the back of her bun. “If you won’t take that thing off yourself, I’ll cut it off. This foolishness will die with my brother. I won’t have it infecting my life in Arizona.”

Micah stared after her. “Then you’d better not take me back to Arizona with you,” he whispered. He was surprised to realize that he meant it.

After he changed into his school clothes, Micah headed downstairs to the kitchen. Aunt Gertrudis was in the living room, and she didn’t even ask what he was doing in there. Maybe their latest fight had been good for something after all.

He put on the kettle to heat the water, then set Rosebud’s pot of medicine on the counter and pulled out its cork. He sniffed. It smelled weird but not bad, like flowers and bacon. He pulled the biggest mug he could find out of the cabinet and dumped all of the powder into it. When the kettle was hot, he let the bird sing for as long as he dared with his aunt nearby.

He carried the mug of finished tea carefully upstairs and slipped into his grandfather’s room. Grandpa Ephraim was asleep, and he looked worse than ever. His skin was like paper, and he seemed to be fighting for every breath even in his sleep. The sound was terrifying. Blub glub, wheeeeze.

Micah bent down and kissed his cheek. “Wake up,” he whispered.

Grandpa Ephraim’s eyes opened slowly.

“Micah.” His voice was exhausted. “How did it go?”

Micah hesitated. He wanted to tell him the truth, to ask him questions, but he looked so awful. “It was okay,” he said. “I’ll tell you after school.”

Grandpa Ephraim frowned.

“I made you tea.” Micah helped Grandpa Ephraim prop himself higher on the pillows.

“I’m tired of tea,” his grandfather wheezed.

“It’s not Aunt Gertrudis’s,” Micah said. “It’s special. From Rosebud.”

Grandpa Ephraim’s eyes widened. He took a sip from the mug.

“Is it good?”

His grandfather nodded.

“Drink it all,” said Micah. “It’s supposed to make you feel better.”

Please, he thought, let it make you feel better.

The morning passed quickly, probably because Micah fell asleep while Mrs. Stark taught the class their new list of spelling words. He didn’t have a chance to talk to Jenny until lunchtime.

“I was lucky,” she said as she picked all of the pepperonis off her slice of pizza. “My parents were making coffee when I got home, so I sneaked in the back door, and they never noticed.”

“My aunt noticed.”

Jenny’s eyes got huge. “No way. What did she do to you?”

“She grounded me.” Micah had never been grounded before. It didn’t bother him as much as Aunt Gertrudis’s reaction to the bootlace had. She had seemed almost scared. He looked down at it. It was a comforting weight against his wrist.

“Well, that ruins our plan,” said Jenny.

Micah shoved a pepperoni in his mouth and swallowed it without chewing. “What plan?”

“To get the Lightbender to cure your grandfather, of course!” she said.

“You believe he can now?” Micah asked. It was strange for her to be the one convincing him that magic was the answer to his problems.

“If he’s centuries old, then something has to be keeping him alive.” Her voice was firm. “I’m coming up with a really good argument to convince him. I think we went about it the wrong way last night, but I’m sure that if we try again . . .”

Micah nodded slowly. The Lightbender had said he couldn’t save Grandpa Ephraim. Micah didn’t want to think he was the kind of person who would tell a lie that awful, but Jenny was right. Everyone at Circus Mirandus was very old.

That meant that there was still a chance. He couldn’t give up yet. Hopefully, Rosebud’s tea had bought him some more time.