And that's that.

It's fine and it's nothing.

But, then again, nothing's ever just fine or just nothing.

I'm not really sure how long I should stick around or how long I'm supposed to stick around, but before I leave, Jack brings me into his office to show me something.

"Interested in history, Chris?"

"Yeah, sure."

About as much as anything else I have to study, which isn't much.

"Look at this map. It shows the area we live in. See the X? That's our house."

The map covers half a wall in his office. Not far away from the green X is a large oval marked in red.

"That's Solitary, the official town limits as best I could designate them. I'm not a mapmaker or anything. But here-this is what I wanted you to see. You can see the town here, the train tracks going through. See this blue circle?"

I nod. At the top of the red oval is a slightly overlapping blue circle about the size of my fist.

"Here-this road leads out of the town. Right around here is the road leading to New Beginnings Church. Heartland Trail. Have you been there?"

I nod and wonder if that's where they go to church.

"We go to a Baptist church ourselves, a little one a good ways away. Good church and good people. Not as big and fancy as New Beginnings, but whatever. If you've been there, then you know where this is."

The blue circle begins right near the point where he said the church was located. A little further down Heartland Trail, right near the point where it dead-ends.

I think of that piece of paper someone put in my locker with the Robert Frost line on it.

"This is where the old town of Solitary used to be before it burned down."

"Is anything left there?"

"No. I remember-years ago when I was a kid, back when there was no church and not even a road to get out there-my older brother and I found remnants of the old town. The creepiest thing I'd ever seen. Mostly half-burnt buildings overgrown with trees and bushes. Like the forest had devoured it. We were there at dusk and got all spooked. Ever since, I've wanted to find it again. I've narrowed down the location from maps and other sources, but I've never been able to find it. Every time I go searching, I end up getting lost in the forest. It gets really dense, more like a jungle than a forest."

"Why'd they move the town?"

"I don't know. I used to think to be closer to the tracks, but the train wasn't used much by the time they moved it. Maybe the damage was irreparable."

I study the map, trying to memorize it. But it's easy to see where the blue circle is located. I know exactly where it is.

Maybe someone else was trying to tell you about that too.

"I just thought you'd get a kick out of seeing that."

"Thanks."

Mr. Page tells me good-bye as we go back into the living room. I thank the family for lunch and then end up following Kelsey outside.

"Thanks for coming."

I nod. "I'm not doing anybody any favors being here."

She looks at me as if she doesn't understand.

"I meant it back at school when I said those things about my life. About stuff going on in it. I mean-you've got a great family, Kelsey. You really do."

"Is that bad?"

"No. Not at all. Except you don't want-you don't need people like me coming along and messing things up."

"Who said you're messing anything up?"

"I might if I stayed around you for too long."

"Maybe it would be good for me to have things messy."

I shake my head.

You have no idea what kind of mess I'm talking about.

"Thanks for today," I tell her again. "I'll see you-tomorrow, right?"

"Unless you plan on skipping school. Or just skipping art."

"What are you talking about? That's my favorite part of the day."

I guess this is a good comment to leave her with. And it's the truth.

I get in my car and smile at her as she stands there and watches me drive off.

I leave her not quite sure what all just happened. But, like many things in my life, it's probably best to not think about it too much.

75. Deja Boo I'm eating Sunday dinner, except this time I'm the father watching his wife and kids. We're sitting around a big table eating turkey when the sound of glass breaking and someone screaming comes from the other room. My wife and children keep eating and then I realize wait a minute, I'm not actually here.

I jerk out of bed and probably smush Midnight as I land on the floor.

The scream comes again.

I get downstairs in a couple of seconds and whip around the corner and see Mom holding a bat. As I approach, she swings it at me.

"Get away, get out of here, go on, go."

She curses, and I know that she's totally out of it. She swings the bat hard, and it thuds against the drywall.

I look to see where the sound of glass came from and see that she busted out one of her windows.

"Mom, it's Chris. Mom!"

She finally seems to get it, to wake up, to see that her only son is standing in front of her. She drops the bat and then rushes past me to the kitchen.

For a second, I'm going to follow, then I think of something. I pick up the bat and I go into the bathroom. I turn on the light, then open the doors to the cabinet and look at the back. The piece of paneling is not attached.

Someone came in here. Someone was in here and did a lousy job of covering up his tracks.

I listen but can't hear anything.

This is crazy. I've got to call someone.

I stay there for a moment, kneeling and watching, waiting. The bat next to me.

I stare into the darkness.

Waiting.

A slight chill coming over me.

Waiting.

This is the moment the bloody head pops out of the darkness and bites you.

Waiting.

This is where the bony hand slivers out of the black and grabs you with a cold grip of death.

Waiting.

But there's nothing. I eventually go into the kitchen to find Mom. She's drinking something in a cup. I don't want to know if it's spiked or not.

There's nothing to say, because we've been here before. I just sit down with her at the table, and she grips my hand. Her touch is icy.

I force a smile, but it's as bleak as the dark night outside.

Tomorrow I'm going to tell someone. Even if that means I'm going to be in more trouble.

76. Proof I really totally and completely don't care anymore. Not a bit.

I've just gotten off the phone with Sheriff Wells, and here's the thing. Not only do I have to go through this, all of this, this black pit of mess, but then I have to be treated like a liar and a loser.

If they're bugging my phone oh well.

If they're watching me now oh well.

If the sheriff is working for them ...

Oh.

Well.

Mom's not home, and that's good, because I don't want to tell her about the hole in the bathroom wall that goes to whatever-that-is. I need to tell somebody, because I'm beginning to think that the hole is going to my brain, and it's sucking every legitimate and decent thing left up there.

"Am I crazy?"

The flat little furry face doesn't answer.

"I'm not crazy, am I?"

Midnight just looks at me, but I don't like that look. She knows. She knows too much. She knows I'm loony tunes.

"Look, just-just don't tell the sheriff that I'm a little ... you know. Okay?"

Midnight puts her head back on the couch and seems content to keep our secret.

The sheriff looks skeptical until he opens the doors to the bathroom cabinet and pulls off the piece of paneling. I see him look up at me with a speechless, dazed glance.

"Here," I say, handing him the flashlight.

He shines it, but I know there's nothing really to see. Then he forces himself into the opening and shines the light down.

I can't imagine what he's thinking. If, and this is a very big if, Sheriff Wells had no idea about the tunnels, then this has got to be pretty eye-opening.

He slips back out and dusts himself off as he stands. The face looking at me is grim and pale. "Your mom know about this?"

I shake my head.

"Anybody else?"

"No."

For a second he rubs the bridge between his eyes as he looks around the bathroom. Then he walks out into my mom's bedroom and into the main room. I follow in silence.

"Look, Chris," he says in a very slow and deliberate manner, "you need to keep doing what I told you to do."

The strange thing as the sheriff talks is that he's not looking at me.

"Do you understand?"

Still not looking at me.

"Yes, sir," I say.

"That's good. You keep quiet and mind your manners and stay out of trouble. Got it?"

Again I say that I do.

Again he's not even trying to look at me.