Behind the laundromat, where there had always been a plain brick wall, Milo found a little door no taller than he was. He ducked inside. A small clockwork librarian slid a card across the counter. Tiny gears ticked inside her chest. "We lend tomorrows here," she said. "Borrow one good day from your own future and spend it today. Just return it by the deadline on the card."

Milo took the card. Tomorrow was his big science fair, and he wasn't ready. "I want a perfect day," he said. "One where everything goes right." The librarian nodded and stamped the card. Right away his backpack felt lighter and his head felt clear. "Spend it well," she said.

The borrowed day was amazing. Milo's volcano worked, his slideshow ran perfectly, and he won first place. But on the bus home he read the card again. "Return by sunset tomorrow," it said in glowing ink. He'd been so happy he almost forgot. Now he had to figure out how to give a day back.

Milo decided to be clever. He'd borrow ANOTHER perfect day to help pay back the first one. But when he reached for a new card, the counter was empty and the librarian was gone. The lamp had gone cold. The deadline ink on his card was already starting to fade.

Milo panicked and ran home without paying. That night he slept fine. But the next morning he woke up and it was suddenly winter. A whole season had been taken while he slept. His mom hugged him and said, "You've been so quiet lately." Milo realized the library always collects.