By now, they had arrived at the end of the Court of the Seasons. Boo was staring at Aru, stunned. Mini kept touching her new headband and grinning.

Aru patted her necklace. “These things will do,” she said rudely. “If we find them to our liking, we will—”

“Recommend you to everyone we know,” finished Mini, smiling, before she realized she wasn’t supposed to smile. “But only if we like them. Which we might not.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Winter. “Can we, perhaps, get a selfie…you know, for the Instagram?”

Do it for the Insta! Also known as the rallying cry of half of Aru’s classmates.

“I hope they haven’t changed the algorithm. Again. My likes are plummeting,” moaned Spring.

“Sorry,” said Aru. “No photos.”

Winter’s shoulders drooped. “Of course, of course. Thank you for accepting our gifts. You’re most kind.”

“Most generous,” said Spring.

“Most lovely,” said Summer.

“Most…clever,” said Monsoon.

Out of the four of them, only Monsoon held Aru’s eye for a moment longer than necessary. But when she smiled, it was with approval, not suspicion.

Aru waved her hand like a pageant queen—rotating it slowly at the wrist—before the three of them ducked through the large gateway marked EXIT. The moment they crossed the threshold, the entrance to the Court of the Seasons closed up behind them. They were left standing in a tunnel covered in vines. A crowd of people shuttled back and forth around them. On their right, an exasperated winged woman screamed into her phone and then incinerated it in her fist. At the end of the tunnel, a herd of wild grocery carts ambled past.

Boo ushered them to the side of the tunnel. A mechanical golden insect whirred to life above them, opening its stained-glass wings and hovering so they were lit as if standing under a Tiffany lamp.

“That was awesome, Aru!” squealed Mini. She held out her elbow and Aru bumped it, grinning.

Aru felt a little better, and it wasn’t just because of those Spring cakes. At least now she knew that if they had to see that starry-tailed monster anytime soon, they weren’t totally unprepared.

Boo fluttered to Mini’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not how the legendary Arjuna would have done it.”

“I’m not Arjuna,” said Aru, lifting her chin. “I’m Aru.”

Boo puffed out his chest. “I know.”

The Library of A–Z

The tunnel led to a massive cavern that opened out into a grand library.

“Books! Just what we need!” said Mini. Her eyes might as well have been heart emojis. “When my mom told me stories about the Night Bazaar, this was the place I wanted to see most. All the books are enchanted. They cover everything and everyone.”

“Great?” said Aru.

She liked libraries. She liked going to the audiobooks section and listening. And she liked pranking people by waiting until they pulled out a book, only to see her making strange faces in the empty space on the shelf.

But this library made her feel uncertain. She had that prickly cold feeling that had followed her in the parking lot right after they’d gotten the first key. Aru slipped her hand around the golden ball in her pocket. It was warm to the touch, but thankfully not hot the way it had been when the Sleeper had shown up before.

“So the bite-of-adulthood key is somewhere in here…” said Aru. Was she mistaken, or was the book design on her hand glowing?

“Then by all means, meander slowly and ponderously until my feathers molt,” said Boo.

“I’m looking!” said Aru defensively.

Easier said than done. The library was the size of a village. Shiny black stone formed the ceiling. Large windows cut into the walls looked out onto unusual settings. Through the first, Aru could see the depths of the ocean. A stingray glided past. Through the second Aru could see the leaves of a dense jungle. The third window peered out over the skyline of New York City.

Hundreds of shelves loomed before them. Aru watched, eyes wide, as the books hopped and fluttered around. Some of them even fought one another. A giant encyclopedia marked A–F squawked at a dictionary. And a book entitled What to Expect When You’re Reincarnated from a Cockroach arched its spine and hissed at a bookmark.

“Maybe this place is organized like a regular library?” suggested Mini. She looked like she was in heaven, surrounded by all the books. “Adulthood starts with the letter A, so let’s see if the shelves are alphabetical.”

“What if adulthood isn’t a book?” asked Aru. “Maybe it’s hidden in something. A book isn’t a key.”

“Neither is a sprig. I think a book would make sense,” said Mini quietly. “They’re keys to lots of stuff.”

When Aru stopped to think about it, she had to admit this was true. She may not have liked the books she’d had to read for school, but she’d loved the stories her mom had read aloud to her. Those tales had unlocked things that ordinary metal keys never could. A particularly good book had a way of opening new spaces in one’s mind. It even invited you to come back later and rummage through what you’d learned.

“What do you think, Boo?” asked Aru.

He didn’t respond. He was circling the ceiling. There was an agitated, restless quality to his movements. He moved jaggedly back and forth, as if he were trying to suss out something.