When Felix pressed PLAY, an unfamiliar voice came from the speaker.
“And from thing in town branch out and find here on out record what’s all the tallest around.”
“That makes
no sense,” Marigold said. “It sounds like the poetry my mom’s friend Annie likes to recite for us when she comes over for dinner. Maybe you’ll hear it sometime.”
“I’m busy that night,” Felix said. He checked the note again. “I don’t think it’s poetry. It almost sounds like a message or something. I think the words are out of order.”
“Could be.”
“What if,” Felix proposed, “the numbers on this sheet of paper tell us how to listen to it? Look at the first one.” He pointed to 00:00:04–00:00:06. “Hold on,” he said. He pressed PLAY again, and as the numbers whizzed by, he heard the beginning of that same recording. But this time, when the numbers hit 00:00:04, he noted whatwas said before 00:00:06 passed. He slammed his finger down on STOP.
“I think ‘Branch out and find’ are the first words in the sentence,” he said to Marigold. She took out her notepad, and on a fresh page, under the heading
Unrelated to Housesmells, she wrote it down.
He repeated what he had just done, but with the second set of numbers: 00:00:10–00:00:11, watching and listening.
“The tallest,” he heard, and Marigold wrote it down.
After they had gone through the whole list in order, she read aloud: “Branch out and find the tallest thing in town. And from here on out, record what’s all around.”
The skin on Felix’s arms suddenly felt strange. Almost . . . carbonated. He and Marigold stared at each other. He said, “Maybe it’s a riddle. You know, a riddle could be a kind of game, right?”
“Maybe. Which could explain why this box was in a games closet,” Marigold said.
“Okay, let’s say it’s a riddle. You’re the one who lives in Blissfield. What
is the tallest thing in town?”
Copyright © 2026 by Meg Wolizter and Charlie Panek. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
