“You’ll find it,” Tuck told him.
“How?” Tucker exploded. “How? In this f*****g mess?”
Tucker’s dad looked around, as if seeing it all for the very first time. “Did you lose it at home?” he asked calmly.
“No. I don’t think so,” Tucker admitted. “I mean, I put it in my pocket. I should have, like, thought about it long before now. You said it was important, and it was.”
“Ace, things are never most important.” It seemed like an odd thing for someone so wrapped up in collecting—in hoarding—to say. “It’ll turn up…or else it won’t. There’s plenty more where that came from. Just don’t lose them all.” He reached up to stroke Tucker’s cheek. The claw at the end of the tool glove scraped the bristly whiskers where Tucker sometimes shaved.
Tucker shivered. “Can you, like, take that thing off, ma
