Neil hesitated. “The insane asylum. Graylock Hall?”
“It’s a psychiatric hospital,” Bree said. “I don’t think people call them asylums anymore except in horror movies.”
“Wesley says it’s haunted. We’re going looking for ghosts.”
“No way.”
“What do you mean, ‘no way’?” Neil fumed.
“Give me a break, Neil! In what world do you think it’s okay for you to break into an abandoned building? Who knows what toxic stuff is floating around? Never mind what might be hiding in there. Or who.”
Neil cringed — he should have just lied. Why does lying always get such a bad rap? The thought of an empty building in the woods had been his only incentive to get out of bed that morning. Since Wesley had told him about the hospital the night before, he’d been ecstatic to have a real reason to be here in Hedston. It was something to do — somewhere to go, to escape the idea of his parents. Back in New Jersey, his mother was lost in a swarm of anxious thought, trouble that had been sparked by his father’s departure earlier that year to pursue a long dreamed of acting career in California.
Neil’s parents had created their own hideaways, both real and imagined, and now Neil would too. Like parent, like child. He hoped the mystery of Nurse Janet would be his escape from all this. Thank goodness for nonexistent cell service near the mountains, or else Bree might actually have a chance of stopping him. The aunts were virtually unreachable at the grocery store.
Still, they could turn into the driveway at any moment.
“Since you’re so worried about me, why don’t you come too?” Neil said, forcing himself to smile, shrugging his shoulders, chuckling a bit.
When his sister raised an eyebrow, he realized he’d laid it on way too thick.
“Nice try.” Bree grabbed his arm. “Come on. Inside.”
Neil began to pull away, when a sputtering noise came up the driveway. Thin rubber tires kicked up gravel. A boy on a bicycle skidded to a stop. Wesley Baptiste.
“Hey, Neil! You ready?”
Someone else turned off the street and rode swiftly up the path. He stopped beside Wesley and lifted off his helmet. Neil realized instantly who the boy was. Wesley had mentioned an older brother but had said nothing about him coming with them. “This is Eric.”
Eric was like a stretched-out version of his little brother — his face longer, his jawbone more angular, his shoulders wider. His eyes and skin were slightly darker than his little brother’s, but it was obvious that the two boys came from the same parents. Straddling his bike, Eric waved a curt salute.
“His band kicked him out this morning,” said Wesley, “so he decided to tag along. He plays guitar.”
Eric’s smile dropped away, and he threw a death glare at his little brother. “They didn’t kick me out,” he said, almost to himself. “I quit. They’re a terrible band.”
Bree stood, moving in a single fluid motion, like a dancer lifting delicately off a stage. Neil watched as she smoothed her long brown hair and straightened the hem of her baby blue T-shirt. “I play the viola,” she said. As the words escaped her mouth, she blushed. Eric simply stared at her. “So … I know how hard it can be to work with other musicians — an orchestra, in my case, which is slightly different. But still …” She cleared her throat. “Maybe I should come with you guys too,” she said, glancing at Neil. “I mean, it’s probably a good idea to have some adults there. For safety’s sake.” Neil pressed his lips together. He hated when she made him feel like a kid, even though she was a mere four years older than him. “I just need to grab my sneakers. Wait for me?” She dashed back into the house, not listening for an answer, slamming the screen door behind her.
“Who’s an adult?” Wesley said to Neil. “I thought you said Bree was only sixteen.”
“Give the girl a break,” Eric said softly. “She’s looking for an adventure. Just like you guys.”
Neil raised an eyebrow as Wesley smiled at him.
THE BAPTISTE BROTHERS LEANED THEIR BIKES against the side of the porch. Since Bree didn’t have a bike of her own and was scared to ride on any of their handlebars, they’d all have to walk. Neil was annoyed, but at least Bree had given up her goal of keeping him from going to Graylock.
Taking a right at the end of the driveway, the small group hiked along the side of the road. The summer sunlight filtered between the tree trunks, making stripes of shadow at their feet. Cicada song rose and fell in nearly deafening waves. The beauty of the afternoon clashed with the group’s intention — a fact that was not lost on Neil, who grew increasingly excited with every step. He could almost feel the presence of the building in the woods, waiting for him. “How much farther?” he asked.
“There’s a turnoff just ahead,” said Eric. “I can’t believe how close your aunts live to this place.”
“I can’t believe Neil hadn’t heard of Graylock until I told him about it last night,” said Wesley.
“Me neither!” said Bree, skipping forward so she could walk beside Eric. “I mean, I’ve known about it for years.” After a moment of uncomfortable silence, she added, “How did you all meet?”
“Well, Wesley’s my little brother,” said Eric, with a smirk. “We go way back.”
Bree blushed. “Yeah, I got that. But where did you find Neil, Wesley?”
“The library, of course,” said Wesley.
A couple days before, when Neil and Bree had arrived at their aunts’ house, the first thing they all did together was visit the pie shop. After eating an amazingly gooey piece of shoofly pie in the shop’s cozy café, Neil thanked Claire and Anna and asked if he could stroll down Tulley Avenue, the main road running through Hedston.
He hadn’t been able to get his mother’s tearstained face out of his head. I just need some time alone, honey, she’d informed him only a week earlier. Her sister, Claire, had offered to take Neil and Bree for the summer. Hedston was several hours north of their home in New Jersey. Neil’s uncle, Felix, lived closer, in a studio apartment in Jersey City. But he also worked late in New York City. They would have been alone all day and most evenings, and at night, they’d have had to cramp onto a small fold-out couch.
So instead, Neil had escaped up to the country with his sister, only to find unlimited time to think about all the horrible things his brain insisted he remember. Neil now understood: You cannot escape from yourself. He also understood that his brain wasn’t so different from his mother’s.
That first day in Hedston, Neil walked up and down Tulley Avenue several times, kicking stones out of his way, plucking leaves off shrubs in front of shabby-looking cottages, humming nonsense songs to himself.
Neil had passed the library twice before he noticed a boy sitting on the top step, staring intensely off into the distance. Neil turned toward where the boy was gazing, but all he could see was a dip in the road that revealed a wooded hillside, the leaves of the far trees blowing in the breeze.
“Do you see him?” the boy asked from the top of the stairs. After a few seconds, Neil realized that the boy was talking to him.