I made a promise to myself not to be mad. I’d ask questions, give him a chance to explain. I grabbed a flashlight from the workbench and left. I ventured back up to the surface and around the back of the house, casting the beam of my flashlight over the open field. The thing about small-town darkness was that it had the consistency of molasses. Thick and sticky, it sucked up everything below until what was left felt like outer space. Not far away, the light was eaten up entirely. I couldn’t see past the initial wall of high grass and wire fences.
I moved to the edge and tried holding my flashlight up high. “Adam?” I said as loudly as I dared without waking Mom. It was silly being scared of the dark. Childish. But that didn’t stop my heart from taking up residence at the top of my throat. I looked back at the house and then, with a show of being ten times braver than I actually was, I took my first step into the field. “You coming?” I patted my leg for Einstein to follow. For once, the clumsy, thick-jowled mutt would have been a welcome companion.
She whined and scooted her back end, but she didn’t cross into the field. I slapped my thigh again. “Come.” Once more, she whimpered and pawed at the dirt, but she didn’t come any farther. “Fine, stay there,” I grumbled. “Some guard dog you are.”
She flattened her belly to the ground and rested her head between her paws, looking guilty. Her jagged underbite made it look like she was actually pouting. I rolled my eyes and tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter, but the flashlight handle was slippery in my hand, and I had to keep telling my legs to go forward.
The crumbly clay soil under my feet grew softer. The breeze blew the scent of young sweetgrass. Soon, it was soaking the shins of my plaid pajama pants. I waded in farther, thinking that I should have changed. Moisture seeped through my slippers. I swept the beam over the field. Everywhere it touched, it turned the green grass a golden yellow.
I struggled to keep my nerves in check. I was alone in the middle of the night. There was a killer loose in Hollow Pines. How could I be so sure that he would only do what he’d done to boys? An image flashed of my body lying faceup, staring at the stars.
Then an even colder thought: I could be out here searching for the killer right now.
I swallowed. I couldn’t think like that. And even if I was, I thought I felt something in my gut click like a lock being latched down, and I knew that even if Adam was responsible, I might still protect him.
My resolve teetered on the edge of a cliff. The swoosh-swoosh of my pants drove me mad. It sounded like someone following me. Each time I stopped so did the swishing. Chill out, I ordered.
Turning back, I realized I could no longer see the house or hear Einstein’s snorting breaths. Goose bumps spread over the back of my neck. I swallowed. “Adam?” This time my voice cracked. “This isn’t funny, Adam.” I tried to sound loud, brave, but my pulse fluttered as fast and light as a hummingbird’s.
Keeping my feet planted in one spot, I revolved around and around, until I lost track of which direction I’d been facing to begin with. Everywhere I looked was darkness and field. Panic bubbled. My ears strained to differentiate sounds—was that the brush of the wind or someone else in the field along with me? Sweat pooled in my armpits.
I made another feeble call of his name. Terror burned through my veins, and I dropped the flashlight to my side. Before I could talk myself out of it, I ran.
A minute later I arrived panting back at Einstein. She heaved her girth off the ground and came to lick the dew that coated my pants.
I gritted my teeth. I had to find Adam. He was my responsibility. I ducked inside the house to grab my keys off the nail but found that they were gone.
I covered up a sharp intake of breath. Then I eased around the corner of the big house to where two cars should have been parked in the drive.
There was only one.
This situation had just gotten worse. Way worse. He could have gone anywhere. He didn’t have a license. He didn’t even know how to drive. Or did he?
I stole my mom’s keys. Tire marks snaked wildly through the dirt road, and there was a deep rut like one of the wheels had spun out. Not good, I mouthed, wanting to kick mud.
I loaded Einstein into the passenger-side seat of Mom’s station wagon and kept the headlights off until I’d pulled out of the drive.
Where would he have gone? My first thought was the obvious one. The football field. It was where he felt most comfortable and competent. I headed back to school, realizing only when I was pulling into the parking lot how crazy this was. It was the middle of the night and no one but Einstein knew where I was.
The hulking green figure of Bert loomed in the parking lot. I experienced a slight loosening in the pinch of worry at finding myself on the right track.
I parked in one of the teachers’ reserved spots alongside the empty car. The deserted stadium loomed up ahead.
A few weeks ago I might have considered this the most rebellious moment of my teenage years, but that was out the window. Now, it’d be lucky to break the top ten.