Unspeakable Things(57)

The adrenaline was fading, leaving a gray sensation. I risked my first glance behind. Clam, Wayne, and Ricky hadn’t followed. My knees went wobbly as I released the last of my fight juice. “Let’s turn on the gravel.”

“Sure thing,” Frank said. “Man, you went at him. Why’d you fight so hard?”

“Let’s sell at a few of these houses,” I said, steering my bike into the first driveway off the tar. I didn’t want to talk about what had happened at the creek like Frank did. I felt pride and shame, and I didn’t know where to store that.

“Okay.” Frank was as chipper as a kid at the DQ. He stayed that way as we meandered our way home, biking down occasional driveways, catching farmers on their way to the barn or housewives hanging the laundry. I made five more sales before I was ready to talk.

“You were right about the boys here being werewolves.”

“I told you!” We were a mile from Frank’s house, two miles from mine, on a side road my bus passed by but never went down. We’d agreed to stop at one more house before going our separate ways for the day.

“They’ve been bit,” Frank continued, “and now they want to bite you. I tried to tell my dad, but he said that’s just how boys are.”

“You’re not like that,” I said.

Frank shrugged and pedaled ahead. “There’s only one house down here,” he called back. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home. Want to check it out?”

I caught up and then passed him down the driveway. The place used to be a farm, it looked like, the layout the same as my parents’ place and Frank’s. It held a crumbling barn, a silo covered in vines, and a red outbuilding that was maintained and probably used as a workshop. I didn’t see a car in the driveway, but the house could have been blocking it. I biked farther, hearing the comfortable crunch of Frank’s tires behind me.

I was fully around the house before I spotted the police cruiser. I braked so fast that my back tire skidded to the side.

“Whoa! Porky Pig,” Frank said, biking up next to me.

A screen door banged, and I whirled toward the house. My tongue grew thick in my mouth. “Sergeant Bauer. I didn’t know you lived here.”

He was bleary-eyed, a mug of something in his hand. He ran his fingers through his hair, scraped them down the stubble on his cheek. “Renting. A little trouble at home.”

Heidi’s parents had gotten divorced a few years ago, back when her, Lynn, and I still hung out. Heidi’s dad had rented a room at the Purple Saucer Motel in the Hollow. He stayed there for six months and then disappeared.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

He grunted. “What are you doing here?”

I yanked the brochure out of my bag. I wished I hadn’t brought it, that I hadn’t biked down this driveway. I wasn’t going to spill anything about Ricky, Wayne, or Clam’s behavior by the creek, and I knew Frank wouldn’t, either. Those were the unspoken rules. “Selling popcorn for band.”

He kept his stare on my face rather than the brochure. “I’m buying from Liz.”

His daughter in Sephie’s grade. “Sorry to bother you.”

His smile surprised me. It seemed genuine, but that didn’t fit his demeanor. “That’s fine. Nice to see you.”

He hadn’t even peeked at Frank the whole visit, not that I’d seen. I steered my bike around and pedaled out of his driveway, not bothering to say goodbye.

When we were out of earshot, I spoke. “I think your dad is wrong, Frank. I don’t think it’s just how boys are. I think it’s something to do with Lilydale.”

The clicking of the playing card against Frank’s spokes and our tires chewing gravel were the only noises for so long that I thought he hadn’t heard me. Finally, he said, “I think so, too. Hey, that guy’s farmhouse looked like mine. Think he has a creepy dirt basement, too?”

I suddenly didn’t want to go home. I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice. “Do you have to go straight back to your place right now?”

“Yeah.”

I could see his house ahead on the right, deposited like a game piece on the board-flatness of the prairie. “We could stop by Goblin’s.”

“Who?”

“Goblin! That guy who lives on the corner between you and me.”

“The one with the green car?”

“That’s him.” I was thinking quick. “He’s a person of interest in the attacks, I heard Sergeant Bauer say it. Maybe we can see what’s turning Lilydale boys into werewolves.”

“We can’t trespass.”

“We won’t. We’ll sorta skirt around the edges.” I risked a glance. Frank’s mouth was set in a line. I wondered what his parents had told him about Goblin.

“I don’t wanna,” he said.

“You chicken?”

His chin quivered. Sometimes I forgot he was only ten. “I’m no chicken. Race you there!”

He took off in a flash. I chugged those pedals to catch up with him. “Slow it down,” I hollered. “We have to come up quiet.”

“He’s probably at work,” Frank yelled back at me, but he eased up.

I pulled ahead. “Follow my lead.”