As Easy as Falling Off the Face of the Earth by Lynne Rae Perkins

did, but in a useless, nonspecific way. Like, oh, yeah, my needle is right over there. In that haystack.

AT THE TRAIN STATION
    T he ticket agent listened to Ry’s story.
    “Wow,” he said. “That’s a good one. Creative. But with a lot of realistic details.”
    “I didn’t make it up,” said Ry. “It’s what happened.”
    The agent looked at Beth. With interest.
    “Who are you?” he asked.
    “A friend,” she said. “Actually, we just met this morning. But we’re already good friends. He’s telling the truth. Can’t you just, like, switch his ticket on your computer from August whenever to sometime this week?”
    Beth was a warm and vibrant and infectious person, though infectious is a weird word when you think about it. Ry could tell the agent liked her, too. This made him hopeful.
    The agent smiled. But it was not the smile of yes, all right, okay. It was the smile that went along with, “I’dlike to help you. I really would. But I can only give him a ticket if you’re such good friends that you want to pay for it.”
    “He already paid for a ticket,” persisted Beth. “He just wants to switch it.”
    “He has no ID,” said the agent. “What happens when someone named Ry—what is it? Wilco? Whitcomb? Wooster?—shows up in August and his ticket has been canceled?
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really am.”
    The only thing he was sorry about, Ry could tell, was disappointing Beth.
    “Okay,” said Beth, sweetly crestfallen. “Well…we might be back later.”
    “I hope so,” said the agent.
    “Prick,” muttered Beth as they walked out the door of the station.
    “There really wasn’t anything he could do,” said Ry.
    “I like you, Ry,” said Beth. “You’re a good egg.”
    “Thanks,” said Ry. He wanted to say something nice back, but he couldn’t decide what.
    Leaving Amtrakland, they passed a fountain, splashing the granite pant legs of the statue of some historic guy. It looked like he had gone wading.

OOPS
    R y shinnied his way out along the limb to the place where he would tie the rope. It was the only limb that remained on this side of the tree. One by one, section by section, they had brought down the limbs below this one. First they harnessed them with ropes, then they chopped them, then the chunks fell, more or less, right where Del wanted them to fall. Arvin chopped them into smaller chunks, and Ry and Beth carried them to the back of Pete’s pickup.
    They were taking the tree down because it was dying, and big heavy parts of it were hanging over two houses and a garage. The idea was to get it down before those parts fell off and knocked holes through someone’s roof. And to not drop parts of it on someone’s roof while they were getting it down. So far, so good. It was work, butit was also a game. A large game. Del was the only one who completely understood the rules. The others sort of understood. Ry got that there were rules, and he saw that there was a logic to them, but he could see that it would take a while to really get the hang of it. Still, after watching Pete crawl out on a few limbs, he thought he’d like to try. So Del hooked him up and explained what he was supposed to do. Which was to creep out onto this limb with a coil of rope hooked to his waist.
    He couldn’t help noticing how high up in the air he was. Higher than the roofs of any nearby houses. His knees were bent and his feet were hooked onto the limb behind him, his thighs clamped in a vise-grip around it. Like a witch riding a broomstick. Except not moving forward as fast. Like a cross between a witch and a caterpillar. He looked into the eyes of a hawk as it soared past. His coworkers moved around like ants, far below. Okay, not ants. But chipmunks. It was pretty far down.
    He focused again on the limb ahead of him. The texture of the bark. Inching forward, he reached his spot. Now he was supposed to tie the knot. Except that to tie the knot, he would have to let go of the limb with his