“And Gary?”

“Opening the door apparently broke the curse on his family,” Pigeon said. “He was a free man for about twenty minutes, until he ate the fudge.”

“What about you?” Nate asked.

“Mrs. White thanked me for the water and said that I had done enough. She didn’t make me eat the fudge. She didn’t seem to think I could cause any trouble, since I was so old. And she would have been right, except that you came forward in time and found me. She has become so powerful, I doubt anybody could stop her at this point. I don’t think she considered that somebody might be able to go back and stop her before she was invulnerable. But here you are. And here I am.”

“Anything else?” Nate asked.

Pigeon shrugged. “I talked to Kyle afterwards. He was old too, and Mrs. White didn’t make him young, she just dismissed us. Denny was mad she didn’t heal Eric and Kyle, so she made him eat white fudge. Like with me, she didn’t make Kyle eat the fudge. She just sent him away. Kyle was bitter, and we ended up having our first good talk, a couple of eighty-year-old kids. He filled me in on how everything had happened from his point of view, and I explained some of the details he had missed.”

“What about Trevor?” Nate asked.

“Still in the mirrors,” Pigeon said. “He has come to my mirror a few times. I told him the gist of what happened. He keeps hoping you’ll show up back at your place.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” Nate asked. “Anything else that might be useful? We get a second shot at this. If it goes right, we can make it all end differently.”

“Would that mean I’d cease to exist?” Pigeon asked pensively. “This me, I mean?”

“Sort of. Not really. Just this last day will cease to exist. Hopefully we can fix it so you’ll never end up old.”

“Then what happens to this me?”

“This you will never happen,” Nate said. “This you isn’t real yet. This you is just a possibility. This is the you without my help.”

“I hope you can do it,” Pigeon said. “I’d love to erase this past day. Do you have any Ironhides left?”

“No, and just one dose of Shock Bits.”

“We’ll think of something,” Pigeon said. “Try to watch out for Diego.”

“I’ll do my best,” Nate said.

“Is it weird being a girl?”

“Not as weird as I would have imagined,” Nate said. “I almost forget if I’m not talking. Is it weird being old?”

“Not too bad,” Pigeon said. “You have to move around more carefully.”

“What time is it?” Nate asked.

Pigeon got up and looked at a clock in the other room. “Just after four.”

“I still may be able to find out more,” Nate said. “Thanks. You can’t think of anything else?”

“You know all I know.”

“See you yesterday.”

“I hope so.”

Nate rushed to the door and got back into the Sentra. Where to next? His mind was whirling with the information Pigeon had shared. John was dead! Summer was a mindless fudge zombie! Mrs. White had become as powerful as everyone had feared. Now that Nate knew how it had happened, he wished he could think of an obvious way to prevent it.

Driving out of the Presidential Estates, he was struck with a thought. Since he now realized how crucial it was, maybe he should visit the Flatman and plant the idea of giving the Grains of Time to his past self. The thought sparked an internal debate. On one hand, he already had the Grains of Time, so what could it matter to plant the idea? On the other hand, here he was with an opportunity to suggest the idea—shouldn’t he do it just to be safe?

Without another more urgent destination in mind, Nate drove to Limerick Court. He got out of his car, rang the doorbell twice, said, “Archmus, I am a friend indeed,” then rang the doorbell again. He heard the locks inside the door clicking.

Pushing open the front door, Nate entered the quiet house. He passed down the hall to the room where the Flatman lived, opened the door, and approached the basin where the fleshy pancake floated, fins curling languidly.

“Hi, Flatman,” Nate said. “You may not recognize me, but I’m Nate. I’ve been missing ever since Mr. Stott took me to find Gary yesterday. I take it Mr. Stott hasn’t been back.”

The larger eye blinked. One of the slits puckered.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Nate said. He glanced around, saw a small can of fish flakes, and shook several into the bowl as he talked. “Look, if you want to save Mr. Stott, and all of us, you have to tell him to give Nate the Grains of Time. Nate. I’m actually a fifth grader. And a boy. Anyhow, the Grains of Time are how I’m here now. Things are a mess. We were ambushed. If Mr. Stott hadn’t given me the sand, we’d already be sunk. I had the Grains of Time because you told him. So be sure to tell him. In the past. Got it?”

The eye blinked.

“Great. In this future, Mrs. White ended up drinking from the Fountain of Youth. Do you have any advice on how to stop her?”

The eye blinked twice.

“Thought I’d ask,” Nate said. “I’d better be going. I’ll be traveling back to the present to fix things soon. You sit tight.”

On his way out, Nate saw that it was 4:15. He trotted out to the Sentra. With only a few minutes left, he decided to check out the candy shop, see if that meeting was still in progress.

He drove down Greenway, but had to pull over and park before he reached Main. The intersection was thronged with fudge fanatics. Male and female, black and white, young, old, and middle-aged.

Nate got out of the car and joined the crowd. They were all pressing toward the Sweet Tooth Ice Cream and Candy Shoppe, trying to get nearer. Messages came percolating through the multitude, repeated from person to person.

“Linda said Tammy Speckler will be in charge of everyone who lives in Redwood Homes.”

“Linda said the next wave of fudge will be parceled out on Saturday!”

“Linda said if we work together we can accomplish anything.”

After hanging around at the edge of the mob for a few minutes, Nate gathered that they were gearing up to widen the distribution of white fudge to neighboring communities, with team leaders and awards for those who dispensed the most. The crowd seemed zealous to hear and obey Linda’s commands.

“I have an important message for Linda!” Nate cried in a strident voice.