50

Shiver-Tree, Silvertree's only source for bizarre, strange, or mysterious news.

Beaming at the screen, Marlowe says:

"Wow. This is really cool. Maybe I could actually do this."

They turn to face you, and you feel their hand press into yours underneath the desk.

"Or—maybe we could do this."

You and Marlowe say goodbye with a hug in front of the office doors, and then you each head home. When you reach your front door, where Arctus greets you by curling around your legs, you realize just how tiring it can be when you barely stop moving for most of the day.

Unfortunately, however, your listless mood isn't helped by what you see when you decide to open your grandma's laptop.

As you waited for it to turn on, you were half hoping you might find that your piece had been published on the news site.

But when the page loads, you see no sign of your name anywhere. Biting your lip, you quickly go to check your emails, just in case there's a message from anybody about your piece.

When you see the name of the journalist who contacted you in your inbox, your heart leaps—but your excitement soon begins to deflate as you read their message:

Dear Huknock,

Thank you for sending me your piece. I appreciate your passion for this issue. However, our current needs have unfortunately changed, and we're going to have to decline publishing your piece. I wish you luck if you decide to submit anything to us in the future.

You blink—and then, with that, you slump back in your chair. After all that uncertainty and suspense, it seems like your hopes of having your words published have been shot down. You find yourself staring at the screen, wondering what it was you did wrong—thinking, more and more rapidly, if there's still anything you can do to make a difference. Is there anything left? Anything at all?

Reminding yourself that, no matter how it feels, there is still time, you force yourself to shut the laptop. You tried your best; you're sure you can still try again at something.

Though as you catch the sound of a clock ticking somewhere in the quiet house, it seems more clear than ever just how little time you have before things could change forever.

Things are quiet for a while, just you and Arctus. Everything that's happened today, and over the past week, runs through your head in scattered images—but you manage to tune most of it out. For now, your mind just needs a break.

But after most of the afternoon has slipped by, you're suddenly pulled back to the present by a sound from your grandma's laptop.

You recognize the sound of a new email by now—but nevertheless, it catches you off guard. You wouldn't have expected anybody to message you this late in the day.

When you see that the message is from Robin, you're even more surprised; you would have thought he'd still be at work. But as you read the email, you start to understand his urgency a little more.

Hey—I'm sorry for the sudden message. It's just that tomorrow's the day I'm finally going to present my exhibition proposal, and I'm really scared I don't have enough. I was wondering if there was any possible way we might be able to find something in your house that could help? I don't even know what I would want to find, but I'm so close to running out of time, and I thought I might as well take one last chance. I know it's a big thing to ask, but I'd appreciate it so so so much. Thanks, and I'm sorry again—Robin.

Of course—the town archives. From what Robin has told you, tomorrow might be the day that decides whether they'll stay open—or shut down, maybe for good. That's a lot of pressure, and you know Robin has been feeling every ounce of it. Is there really any way there could be something hidden away in your house that might answer his prayers?

Whether or not there might be something in your house worth finding, however, you think you might as well let Robin try. You have nothing to lose—and it might be pretty cool if you ended up finding something that could actually keep the archives open.

You send Robin a quick reply, and in less than two minutes, he's on the way to your house. You just hope it will be worth the trip.

Next