CHAPTER 11

I felt Luna take my hand and squeeze it tightly. From the corner of my eye, I saw David take Sofía in his arms and head down the road with Señora Juárez. But it was like I was looking through the wrong end of binoculars. The art world seemed far away, our connection to it growing more and more distant. I saw Viola waving goodbye, just before she disappeared entirely.

“This is not the end, children,” we heard her call. “The world of art is never-ending and everlasting.”

All at once, the red, sandy earth faded away, and we felt ourselves falling.

“Farewell, Madame!” Chives called as he tumbled with us through time and space.

The journey home was the most peaceful one we’d been through—except for when Chives snouted me pretty hard in the back.

We landed gently in the real world, floating into Viola’s living room through Diego Rivera’s beautiful painting of Antonia with her calla lilies.

“We made it,” Luna said, climbing to her feet.

“Indeed we did,” Chives said. “And look at this house. What a mess; not up to my standards at all. I’ll get the vacuum as soon as I’ve finished my bath.”

He trotted off toward the stairs. Then he paused and looked back at us.

“Perhaps tomorrow afternoon, you can stop in for a spot of tea?” he said. “I’d like that very much.”

And with that, he went up the stairs.

Luna and I just stood there in silence, taking in all that had happened.

“Is Mrs. Dots truly in there?” I asked, pointing to the fantastic frame. “Forever?”

Neither of us knew the answer.

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luna said.

It was quiet inside, but outside, I heard a clamor of voices. It was the same type of commotion we’d heard in the village plaza.

“Maggie’s raffle!” Luna said. “We still have to help her.”

“You think those people are shouting for my Pocket Buddy?”

“Of course!” Luna said, grabbing my hand. “We’ve seen it happen before! People are people, no matter where they live.”

Outside, a rowdy crowd was gathered around Maggie’s stand, everyone holding up their tickets. There must have been thirty people there. Kids, grown-ups, even Pooch. Maggie’s fishbowl was filled with dollar bills.

“Hey, Mags,” I called. “You need help?”

“I got this,” she said. Where was my sad little sister now? In the hour we were gone, Maggie had turned into a confident, calm, clever little businessperson. I guess that’s what a great invention like the Pocket Buddy will do for you. Give you confidence. It worked for me, and now it had for her.

“Everyone be quiet or no one gets the prize,” she said in her bossy voice. When everyone was silent, she reached her hand into a bucket and pulled out a ticket.

“Number nineteen,” she cried. “It’s got a name on it, too, but I can’t read the letters.”

“Someone should teach that little squirt to read,” Pooch yelled, throwing his ticket.

“You’re just a sore loser,” another person said. “The kid did a great job. And by the way, I’m number nineteen.”

It was Simon, our neighborhood mail carrier. He was holding the winning ticket. Maggie handed him my Pocket Buddy as the crowd gathered around to check out his prize.

“You’re rich,” Luna said to Maggie, looking at all the money in the fishbowl.

“I’d bet there’s forty bucks in there,” I said. “You could buy four dolls with that.”

“I don’t want Shop-Cool dolls anymore,” Maggie said. “Instead, I’m going to buy a big new set of tools, so I can be an inventor and get really famous. That’s my dream. I want to be just like you, Tiger.”

“That is the sweetest thing to say,” Luna said to her.

It was sweet, but Little Mags had a long way to go before she could become an inventor. She didn’t even know what a voltage meter was. Or a circuit board. Or a screwdriver, for that matter.

But then I thought, if I can travel through a magical frame into the world of art, then maybe Maggie can learn to be the inventor she dreams of becoming.

After all, the one thing I’ve learned from my adventures inside the fantastic frame is that anything is possible.