Chapter 12

Mort offered to heat up some cider, but both Alder and Oak refused politely.

“Cider gives me a stomachache,” said Oak. In truth, she was simply a bit nervous about accepting a hot drink from a four-foot opossum she’d only just met, but Mort looked so saddened by her pronouncement that Oak felt immediately sorry for having lied. Which was such a weird way to feel—sorry? In a situation like this? Where the whole world seemed to be make-believe—like a dream or a hallucination?

Maybe she was hallucinating, Oak thought. Maybe she was in a coma or something, because of the lightning.

But until she figured out what was going on, or until she woke up, she might as well see how this played out.

So, when the weird opossum creature gestured for her to take a seat, Oak slid into a spot on the low-backed couch, her kitten sleeping like a warm little nut on her lap. She was glad when Alder sat next to her, so close that their legs nearly touched. In his lap was a kitten who looked so much like Walnut that there was only one explanation. This, at least, was a thing that she could make sense of.

“We adopted siblings,” she said. “You named yours Fern?”

Alder nodded. “I named her after our plant. Yours is Walnut?”

“I named her after the tree,” said Oak, and Alder nodded again. Oak didn’t have to explain which tree she meant.

“That’s pretty weird,” said Alder, but, Oak thought, compared to the company in which they currently found themselves, the kitten coincidence was not nearly as strange as it otherwise might have seemed.

Mort had moved his chair so that its back was to the fire, and he’d added another log so that the fire crackled merrily, and then he hopped up into his seat, scooting his rump comfortably back, settling himself into place as if he’d done it a thousand times. “Now,” he said with a smile, and Oak really wished that his teeth weren’t quite so sharp, “Alder, why don’t you do the introductions?”

Alder knew this thing? Oak hadn’t thought she could be any more surprised, but here she was.

“Wait,” she began, “you . . . know each other?”

Alder cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “in a way. Um, Mort, you’ve already met Fern and Walnut, I guess, and this is Oak. She’s my new neighbor. They just moved in next door. Oak, this is . . . Mort.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” said Mort, and his voice was stiffly formal, as if he were happy to have a chance to break out his fancy vocabulary.

“Likewise,” said Oak, though she wasn’t exactly pleased to make his acquaintance. Still, she had manners, and her mom would probably be proud that she remembered them, even in this bizarre situation. Politely, Oak asked, “So, where exactly are we?”

“On a couch, in my front room,” said Mort. Oak wished that his smile wasn’t so terrifying.

“But . . . where is your couch? Where is your front room?” asked Alder.

Now Oak was even more confused. Alder knew this creature, but he didn’t know where they were? She was starting to get a headache from all her questions.

“Ah,” said Mort, and Oak leaned forward. Mort seemed like he was getting ready to explain everything, which would be such a relief. But before he said another word, his attention was taken by something he seemed to see outside, for he hopped down from his chair and scurried over to the front window to peer outside. “The storm is almost over,” he mused. He turned back to face them. His whiskers bristled forward, vibrating. “Children,” he said, “you’ve recovered your kittens, and it’s time for you to go.”

And he gestured with his tiny pink hands for them to get up, which they did, and he ushered them to the front door.

Oak protested, “But—”

“It’s been lovely,” Mort interrupted, reaching for the silver doorknob and turning it.

“Thank you for the hospitality,” said Alder.

He sounded relieved to be leaving, but Oak wasn’t in quite such a hurry to be rushed off. She had questions. Lots of them.

“Wait a minute,” she said, but Mort the opossum scooted them both out of his house, onto the front porch. And then he made a formal little bow, so stiff and old-fashioned that it would have been funny if the whole thing hadn’t been so impossible.

“Goodbye,” said Mort. He shut the door firmly, and Oak heard it click into place, and then he was gone.