Daniel admitted everything as we all argued—he’d written the letter and dropped it off at the post office when it was his turn to make our grocery run. He swore it was the only one he’d sent, and that he was going to tell us what Professor Johansson advised the moment he received a reply—but no amount of confession was enough for us. Even though the person Daniel had turned to was our beloved professor, Daniel had gone behind our backs and tried to let someone else in on our secret.
“But it doesn’t matter! It didn’t even get there,” Daniel finally said, snatching the envelope from Bear. “Look!”
There was a big red blot beside the stamp that read INSUFFICIENT POSTAGE—the letter had never been delivered and had returned here.
But the damage had already been done.
“I don’t need this,” Daniel finally said, turning away from us. “Come on, Nelly. Let’s get you something to eat.” He scooped you up and stomped through the door.
Wally started after him, the raw fury of Daniel’s betrayal still smoldering in his eyes, but Tam stopped him.
“Let me,” she said.
“But it’s not fair,” Wally said. “He can’t—”
“Just give me a minute.”
She followed Daniel, despite Wally’s protests. He stood on the porch fuming, so upset he wasn’t able to even speak as we hesitantly tried to comfort him. We were all angry, but it was hitting Wally the hardest by far. Maybe because he was the one who was the most nervous about our ability to keep Agloe a secret until we’d finished our project—or maybe because Tam seemed to have taken Daniel’s side in this, even though he was in the wrong.
By the time we all finally went in, Tam was alone with you in the kitchen, getting out the plates for the dinner Wally had started. Daniel was already gone, hiding upstairs to brood.
Dinner was horrible—a tense, silent affair with Wally seething, Tam hurt by Daniel but playing peacemaker for the good of the group, and the rest of us caught somewhere in the middle. By midnight, Daniel still hadn’t come downstairs, and Wally still hadn’t mellowed. When I finally went to bed, Wally was the last one in the living room, glaring stonily out one of the windows into the night. I was dreading tomorrow.
But Tam must have talked some sense into Daniel overnight, because the next morning, he came downstairs once the rest of us—save Wally—had gathered for breakfast, looking repentant. He apologized again and promised he wouldn’t send another letter. Romi suggested that I take over Daniel’s turns to make grocery runs for the group to help rebuild some of the lost trust, and he agreed.
“Wally will be happy to hear this,” Tam said, glancing back toward the stairs. “Hey, Wally!” she cried. “Daniel has something he’d like to say to you.”
But the upstairs remained silent.
“Do you think he could still be that mad?” Romi asked.
Tam handed Bear the spoon she’d been feeding you breakfast with, but I stood up.
“Let me go,” I offered. “Impartial party.”
Upstairs, Wally’s door was closed. I knocked, but I didn’t hear him stir. I knocked again.
“Okay, I’m alone, I’m coming in,” I said, and pushed the door open, but the room was empty.
Wally was gone. He’d left before any of us had even woken up—off to do more of his mysterious research, alone.
I thought he just needed a day to cool off, but things stayed that way for weeks. In fact, the more time we all spent in Agloe, it seemed that Wally spent even less. He was gone more often, and for longer each time, and had become even more brusque about what exactly he was researching, whenever someone did ask. He just insisted that it was important, and we leave him to it.