“Who cares?” I said. “It’ll be totally ridiculous. You can wear a suit with a Hawaiian shirt or something, and everyone will probably laugh at us, but it won’t matter. Please? I really want to go.”
Enzo smiled a little, and I knew I’d won.
“When is homecoming?”
“Next weekend, which I know is super soon, but it’s not like we really need to do anything to prepare. It won’t be a real date or anything.”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
I laughed and twirled around again. For once, I wasn’t going to be the only person in the school who didn’t go to a dance. Even if I was just going with Enzo and wouldn’t really have anyone else to talk to and would just be annoyed by the bad music, I was still going.
I paid seven dollars for the dress, which was cheap considering it was getting me to the homecoming dance. Enzo bought a fifty-cent book that had a neatly scripted haiku on the inside cover. Then we went werewolf hunting again.
? ? ?
The pavement ended a few miles back, but the dirt road was well maintained enough for my little Rabbit to drive down it. I was slightly nervous, because my car was still making chugging noises like a steam engine, but that sort of made the whole experience more adventurous. The road was narrow, and tree branches touched overhead. We were deeper in the woods than we normally went and much deeper than the search parties had looked those first few days, since Lizzie was on foot. But Lizzie had nothing but time. She could be anywhere.
Enzo was in the passenger seat, frowning at a map like it was a book written in a foreign language.
“What happens if a car comes from the other direction?” I asked. “There’s not enough space for them to pass.”
“I don’t think many people drive out here.”
“Then why is there a road and not a trail?”
Enzo shrugged.
But that was OK too. I wasn’t really worried, just making conversation. How could I be worried on a perfect fall day when I had nothing to do but wander through the woods with my friend and think about mysteries and dances? I rolled down my window and let the cool afternoon air hit my face.
A few minutes later, the road split. I stopped the car and looked at Enzo.
“It’s not on the map. At least, I don’t think it is.” He spread the map on the dashboard and pointed out where he thought we were. We both leaned in to get a closer look, and I could feel the soft sleeve of his leather jacket brushing against my arm.
“Look at how the road is kind of squiggly,” I said, tracing our path on the map. “I think that’s the right fork.”
“I think so too.”
I shivered with excitement. “I wonder why the left road isn’t marked.”
“Probably because it’s not a real road anymore. Look at it.”
I followed Enzo’s gaze. The right fork continued on in pretty much the same condition as it had been. The left side was more overgrown. Grass grew around the wheel ruts, and bushes lined the sides of the path. The woods were trying to take back the road.
“I think we should go left,” I said.
“I don’t know if your car can make it.”
“That’s OK. I don’t care if the sides get scratched up.”
“It’s not that,” Enzo said. “Look at how uneven the ground is. We don’t have a lot of clearance in this thing. It’s a Volkswagen, not a Jeep.”
“No adventure ever started with someone turning back because they weren’t in the ideal vehicle.”
“You’re crazy, kid,” Enzo said, but he was smiling, and I knew he meant it in a good way, not like how the kids at school said it.
“So left?”
“Yeah. Left.”
The road was a little worse than I thought it would be. I had to drive really slowly, and at one really big dip, the front of my car thumped against the ground. I rolled up the window, because the bushes and trees were so close that I felt like something could be waiting in the shadows to reach inside and pull me out. A couple times, a branch scraped the side of the car, making a nails on a chalkboard screech. Enzo seemed tense, but I thought the whole thing was fantastic.
I turned the radio to an AM station that was mostly just static and a few garbled words.
“What are you doing?” Enzo asked.
“Setting the mood. Now it’s really like we’re in a horror movie.”
After a while, the road widened a little, and we came to a gate. It was made of rotting wood and closed but not latched. I stopped the car. Enzo and I looked at the old gate through the windshield.
“I suppose there’s no way you’re turning back now,” he said.
“Go open it,” I replied.
Enzo didn’t move, so I got out of the car. From what I could see, the road continued on for a short distance, then opened into some sort of clearing.
I grabbed the wooden gate and pulled. Rusty hinges groaned, and the rotted wood started to collapse. I jumped back with a squeal.
Enzo finally got out of the car and looked at the pile of wood at my feet. “Well, your car certainly isn’t getting over that.”
“We’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” I said.
“What do you think is back there?” Enzo asked, peering down the dirt road. He sounded a little too hesitant for my liking.
“I think someone used to live here.”