I trace the sticker with my fingertip.
How on earth had his book ended up down here?
Swallowing roughly, I flip to a random page, to a list of lost items, each accompanied by a description, a location, and the date we came across it. Some of them I can remember clearly—the engine from an old van, a broken hacksaw, a doll with one blue eye missing—but others are so mundane they left no impression: Doritos bag, striped sock, broken pen.
I turn the pages until I reach an entry that reads: Saint Anthony medal. Mill. August 12. The day he and I and Noah slipped through the fence at the mill. The day everything began to change.
It’s the last item on the list. Had Riley started a new journal after that day, or had August twelfth and the week that followed marked the end of his obsession with lost things?
I flip to the end of the book, to the other list Riley had kept that summer—a record of each time I had lost my grip on reality. It’s not there. The pages have been torn out, leaving only jagged edges behind.
Like I had never existed.
Five
I SPEND THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON TRYING NOT TO THINK about that small black book and the entry for that long-ago August day—with limited success. Without a laptop or phone, I eventually turn to the TV in the common room for a distraction, but Marie and Sam are binge-watching some sort of weird Canadian costume drama. Sam keeps chuckling at the wrong moments, like some strange, delayed laugh track.
I only last two episodes before I give up and head to the study to tell Aunt Jet I’m going out for a walk.
“It’s only your first full day in town,” she says, frowning nervously at me from her position in one of the huge, wingback armchairs. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Montgomery Falls isn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s just that I promised your father I would take care of you.” Brisby slips into the room, headbutts Jet’s leg, and then mewls until she closes her book and scratches him under his chin. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mary Catherine; it’s just that I don’t want it to be another five years before you’re allowed to visit again.”
The study is one of my favorite spots in Montgomery House, but as I envision spending my time in Canada negotiating every outing, it feels like its book-lined walls are closing in. This one moment could set the tone for the next few weeks.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jet says a little more firmly, a little more decisively.
I quickly run through arguments and counterarguments in my head. Assurances about being home before it gets late. Promises to stick to the good parts of town and not talk to strangers. But one look at the way Aunt Jet is staring at me—her face sharp and owlish, her thin shoulders set in a straight line—and I suspect not a single assurance or promise will work.
Because she dislikes confrontation, it’s easy to assume my aunt is a pushover. And she is—sometimes. But she stood up to Dad when he first wanted her to sell the house. And she spends each week taking care of people who can’t take care of themselves anymore. That takes strength.
And the look she’s giving me right now is not that of someone who’s going to cave.
Footsteps sound on the stairs. Inspiration strikes as I glance over my shoulder in time to see Aidan heading down the front hall. “I’m going out with Aidan and some of his friends,” I say quickly. “They’re watching a movie. Aidan asked me to go.”
Aunt Jet sets her book aside. “Aidan?” She waits for him to appear in the doorway and then says, “You asked Mary Catherine to the movies?”
The smallest flicker of surprise flashes across his face, there and gone so fast that Aunt Jet doesn’t catch it. Surprise and something else—something that might be amusement. “A few friends and I are hanging out and watching movies over at Chase Walker’s house,” he says. “Chase’s dad is the principal of the elementary school. You probably know his mother—she volunteers at a bunch of places around town. I thought it might be nice for Cat—Mary Catherine, I mean—to meet some people. We get together every week. Mr. and Mrs. Walker order pizza for us and let us hang out in the rec room as long as we don’t make too much noise.”
He’s good. Really good. It’s hard to imagine I can get into much trouble at the home of the local principal and the official town do-gooder. Aidan even managed to imply there will be parents present without Aunt Jet having to ask. The only other person I know who’s that good at spinning things is Lacey.
Still, Aunt Jet hesitates.
“You said you trusted me,” I say. A tiny little push.
She doesn’t look entirely happy or convinced, but she picks up her book and finds her place. “Be home before it gets too late, please. Remember the house rules.”
Once Aidan and I are safely outside with the door closed behind us, I remark, “That is an impressive talent for bullshitting.”
A faux-wounded look crosses his face. “Nothing I said was an untruth.”
“Chase’s mother?”
“Really is an obnoxious, insufferable humanitarian.”
“And his father?”
“Has technically been fired from his position after getting caught in the copy room with the school secretary, but that is not yet common knowledge.”
“Montgomery Falls’ very own soap opera.” I shake my head. “So what are the house rules?”
“Your aunt locks the front door at midnight. If you’re not inside by then, you’re out of luck.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Aidan is the only one of the boarders who is a teenager. Heck, Sam has to be older than my father and Aunt Jet. Isn’t half the point of being a grown-up not having to deal with things like curfews?
Aidan nods toward the old porch swing with its peeling paint and rusting chain. “Let’s just say that thing is not the most comfortable of beds. I spent two nights on it last month before I found an alternate way in and out of the house.” He flashes me a grin and then heads down the porch steps as a Honda with scratched paint and brakes that screech in protest pulls into the driveway.
I follow Aidan as the car comes to a stop. One guy sits behind the wheel while another rides shotgun.
“Well,” I say as Aidan pulls open the passenger-side rear door, “I’ll see you around.”
The instant the words leave my mouth, I cringe. Of course I’ll see him around: he lives in the same house.
Aidan raises an eyebrow. “I thought we were going to watch a movie. You have a better transportation option? If so, can you take me with you?”
“Hey!” protests the driver. “There’s nothing better than the Beast.”
“Dude, any car would be better than this thing,” says the guy in the passenger seat. “The taillights don’t work, and it still smells like the old lady you bought it from. We’re going to get rear-ended and that smell is going to follow me into the afterlife.”
Aidan ignores them both. He just stands there, eyebrow still slightly raised.
“You’re going to watch a movie,” I clarify. “I just needed a hall pass.”