James Dashner - The Journal of Curious Letters

Squinting to see in the patchy moonlight, Tick did just that.

The place is for you to determine and can be in your hometown. I only ask that the name of the place begin with a letter coming after A and before Z but nowhere in between. You are allowed to have people there with you, as many as you like, as long as they are dead by the time you say the magic words. But, by the Wand, make sure that you are not dead, of course. That would truly throw a wrinkle into our plans.

Tick looked over at Rutger. “I can bring people with me, as long as they’re dead before I say the magic words? That doesn’t make any sense.”

The short man smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, I didn’t write the clues.”

“And how can a letter come after A, before Z, but nowhere in between? Wouldn’t that exclude all twenty-six letters?”

“Who am I, Sherlicken Holmestotter? You figure it out, kid.” He rubbed his arms and shoulders with his mittened hands.

“Sherlicken who? Do you mean Sherlock Holmes?”

Rutger gave him a blank stare. “No, I mean Sherlicken Holmestotter, the greatest detective who ever lived.”

Tick didn’t know what to think of that answer. “So are you going to tell me anything worthwhile or not?”

“I’m leaning toward the not, actually.”

“Boy, you and Mothball sure are a lot of help. Why didn’t M.G. just send me letters in the mail like he did with the other stuff?” Tick shivered again, and realized his warm clothes and scarf weren’t enough to block out the freezing cold.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Rutger looked down at the ground, no small feat with his huge belly. “I guess you didn’t want me to come, did you?”

“Hey, I was just kidding.” Tick tried to keep from laughing as he reached out and patted the man’s shoulder. Maybe it was the guy’s size, but Tick felt like he was consoling a little kid. “I’m glad we met. I just wish you could tell me a little more about what’s going on.”

“Trust me, I’m dying to tell everything, but that would defeat the whole point, now wouldn’t it?”

Tick threw his hands up in frustration. “What is the point?”

Rutger grew serious. “I think you know, Tick. You’ve made a choice to pursue this endeavor, and no matter what, you must see it to the end. By the very act of making it to the special day, and solving the riddles of what will happen at that time, you will be properly prepared for…” He paused, fidgeting with the buttons on his coat.

“For what?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What a surprise.” Tick wanted to be angry, but instead felt torn between disappointment and eagerness to solve everything at once. He’d always been that way; he wanted to know things right then and now, which was probably one reason why he did so well in school. He often read ahead in his books, curiosity lighting the fire of his impatience, which only added to his status as Nerd-Boy of the Universe.

“I will say this,” Rutger said. “I truly hope you make it, Tick. I want to see you when it all comes down to the boiling point.” He turned his squat little body and looked Tick in the eye. “You’ll be there, I’m sure of it.”

“I’ll try.”

Rutger snorted. “ Try is for dingbats with no heart. You will do, young man, do. ”

“Who are you-Yoda?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

Rutger stood up with a loud groan, seeming to barely rise in height even though he had his legs straight under him. “Well, must be off to the wild blue yonder. Feels like I haven’t eaten in three weeks.” He patted his stomach. “Boy,

I sure do enjoy a lovely meal now and then.” He cleared his throat loudly, as if trying to give a hint.

“Where are you from, anyway?” Tick asked, trying his best to avoid any subject that dealt with the man’s weight.

“I, young man, am from the Eleventh-the finest place you could ever visit.”

“The Eleventh?”

“Things developed a little differently there, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh. Yes. Well, someday you will.”

Tick sighed. “What were those words you said earlier? Kyoopy, Barrier Wands, chika-something?”

Rutger only raised his eyebrows in reply.

“Let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

“That’s my boy, getting smarter by the minute.” Rutger stretched and let out a big yawn. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Tick. I expected someone a little more generous with treats and goodies, but what can you do?”

Tick rolled his eyes. “Do you want something-”

“No, no, maybe next time you can be a good host,” Rutger replied with no subtlety. “You go on inside and stuff yourself with turkey and beans while little old Rutger walks his long journey home. At least I have new shoes, I guess.”

Little? Tick thought, but wisely didn’t say. “Oh, hang on a minute. You’re a pathetic actor.” He slipped inside the house and grabbed some bread, a bag of cookies, and a couple of bananas, throwing them all into a grocery bag, trying his best to be quiet. He forced himself to take extra precautions with every trip through the front door. He didn’t need his dad waking up to find him giving out free food to a weird little fat guy in the middle of the night.

When he handed the bag to Rutger, the man beamed with joy. “Oh, thank you seven times over, my good man! Thank you, indeed!”

Tick smiled. “You’re welcome. When will I see you again?”

Rutger started down the sidewalk, looking over his shoulder as best he could. “Many tomorrows, I expect, many tomorrows. Good-bye, Master Atticus!”

“Bye.” Tick waved, feeling a pang of sadness as he watched Rutger set off down the road.

Edgar watched from the upstairs window in the hallway, his emotions torn between fascination at the miniature fat man that seemed to have struck up a friendship with his son, and his sadness that Tick was involved in something very strange and had failed to tell his own father about it. He and Tick had always had a special bond, sharing anything and everything. Had things changed so much? Had his boy grown up, leaving his poor father behind to wallow in ignorance?

It all made sense now. Tick had been acting so bizarre lately and the reasons behind it could very well change the way Edgar viewed the world in which he lived. As he’d watched the two speak together on the steps of the porch, he’d readied himself to run outside at the first sign of danger. But the man seemed to be a friend, and Edgar decided to wait a while before he confronted Tick about it.

He told himself he didn’t know why he wanted to wait, but his heart knew the truth. Deep inside, he hoped his son would decide to tell him on his own what was going on. Edgar could hold out just a little bit longer-maybe a day or two-watching his son’s every move.

Down below, Tick waved as his short friend disappeared down the dark road.

Quickly, Edgar turned and went back to his room.

The next day was Friday, the last day of school for two weeks, and Tick thought it would never end. Having enjoyed a grand total of four hours of sleep the night before, he nodded off in class constantly, waking with an unpleasant string of drool on his chin more than once. Mr. Chu was the only teacher who gave him a hard time about it, but Tick survived.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang.

Tick was at his locker, the excitement of the coming vacation days perking him up a bit, when disaster struck in the form of a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Billy “The Goat” Cooper sneering at him with arms folded, his goons gathered behind his massive body.

Just wait it out, Tick, just wait it out.