T. R. I. B. U. T. A. R. Y.
As in, a river.
Six down.
O. C. U. L. U. S.
As in, an eye.
Eight across.
C. H. A. R. I. S. M. A.
As in, charm.
M. A. T. E. R.
As in, my own. Lila Jane Evers Wate.
S. E. R. I. O. U. S.
As in, grave.
That was the message. I need the black stone—the eye of a river, and the one you wear on your charm necklace. And I need you to leave it for me at my mother’s grave. I couldn’t spell it out any clearer than that.
At least not in this edition of the paper.
By the time I finished, I was exhausted, as if I’d been running sprints all afternoon on the basketball court. I didn’t know how much time would need to pass in the Otherworld before Lena got my message in this one. I only knew that she’d get it.
Because I was as sure of her as I was of myself.
When I got home to the Otherworld—to my house, or my mom’s grave, whatever you wanted to call it—there it was, waiting for me on the doorstep.
She must have left it on my mother’s grave, like I asked.
I couldn’t believe it had worked.
Lena’s black-rock charm fro
m Barbados, the one she always wore around her neck, sat in the middle of the doormat.
I had the second river stone.
A wave of relief settled over me. It lasted about five seconds, until I realized what the stone also meant.
It was time to go. Time to say good-bye.
So why couldn’t I bring myself to say it?
“Ethan.” I heard my mom’s voice, but I didn’t look up.
I was sitting on the floor of the living room, my back to the couch. I had a house and a car in my hands, stray pieces of my mom’s old Christmas town. I couldn’t take my eyes off the car.
“You found the lost green car. I never could.”
She didn’t answer. Her hair looked even messier than usual. Her face was streaked with tears.
I don’t know why the town was set out on the coffee table like that, but I put down the house and moved the tiny green tin car farther along the table. Away from the toy animals, the church with the bent steeple, and the pipe-cleaner tree.