Excerpt from Saving Montgomery Sole by Mariko Tamaki, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

But suddenly there I was.

The website looked like it was designed in the nineties. The banner was in Times New Roman. Underlined. Top center, framed in lavender, was this drawing of a troll-like two-headed woman in a black cape. Like, the worst picture ever drawn.

Most of the text was about different kinds of mysteries. A lot of it was stuff I'd read before about different legends in different countries: fairy folk in England, the Huldufólk in Iceland. There was something about the Loch Ness Monster, which I'm sure has to appear on every website about anything magical or strange. For a second I thought maybe it was a Dungeons & Dragons fan site because there were a few yes and yores in there.

Ye-ancient-powers-of-yore-type stuff.

At some point, I clicked an About link next to a wizard picture, because, you know, About what? About wizards? Maybe something about spells?

Instead, the link took me to a page that was completely blank, except for a Store link.

Where there was only one thing listed.

THE EYE OF KNOW

Next to the title was a picture, like some sort of badly lit cell phone picture, of this white rock laid out on a piece of black velvet.

Completely genuine crystal amulet. Rock excavated from asteroid landing in the magical mountain ranges of Peru. When wielded by a skilled visionary, the eye is a portal to vision untold. Journey forward into insight. Explore the power of know. Amulet comes with adjustable leather strap and may be worn as a necklace, bracelet, or anklet. Instruction booklet included. Only $5.99!

When was the last time anyone you knew wielded anything?

I thought, Maybe it's just a piece of rock from some guy's backyard. Possibly in Manchester.

"'A portal to vision untold,'" I said to no one but the possibly unseen paranormal presences in my room.

What if it was … a portal?

Plus it was only $5.99. That's, like, a cup of coffee and a doughnut, I thought.

Looking at the site, I paused to suck out the last dregs of my root beer.

Couldn't be any worse than trying to see inside a box.

Why not? I thought.

Fortunately, I have a credit card for just such occasions. Which I must, with no exception, pay off every month with my meager allowance or it gets taken away, because my moms are afraid kids today don't have the same appreciation for money that they did "back in the old days." Not that I do that much shopping.

After my purchase, I went downstairs for a snack. My moms and Tesla, my younger sister, were sitting in the living room, watching TV. I say "my moms" a lot because I think of them as one being from time to time … They are two separate people. Momma Jo is tall; Mama Kate is short. Momma Jo is loud; Mama Kate is not.

Momma Jo says stuff like, "You look too un-busy for someone your age. Did you do your homework?"

Mama Kate says stuff like, "Did you want to talk about something?"

I'm told there was a time when I called Momma Jo "Bobo" and Mama Kate "Mama." A little insulting, I'm sure, since Bobo was also the name of my favorite stuffed elephant, a present from Momma Jo for my second birthday.

"Fortunately," Momma Jo often notes, "you grew out of that."

As I slipped past the living room, the moms were getting ready to watch some show about a woman who is happy with her job but sad about her love life.

Tesla was on the carpet, still in her special workout gear, because even though Tesla is only eleven, she does yoga every day. To keep her core lean. Apparently this requires special clothes. "Breathing clothes," Tesla calls them.

Excerpted from Saving Montgomery Sole by Mariko Tamaki. Copyright © 2016 by Mariko Tamaki. Excerpted by permission of Roaring Brook Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.