My cell phone rang. I looked down and saw that it was Uncle Myron. I was about to hit ignore but I decided to answer it.

“Hey, Myron. I need to ask you something.”

“Where are you?”

“It’s not important,” I said. “Why did Randy Schultz want your help?”

“I already told you. I can’t talk about it.”

“Did it have something to do with steroids?”

Silence.

“Because I know Buck took steroids. And I know Randy dealt them. Did he get caught? Is that why he needed your help? Is that why you turned him down?”

“Mickey?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I told you. I can’t talk about it. Attorney-client privilege. Where are you, Mickey?”

The door to Buck’s house finally swung open.

“I’ll talk to you tonight,” I said, and hit end before Myron could say anything more.

Have you ever seen one of those horror movies where someone goes into a house one way and then they come out another, like maybe they’re a zombie now or their hair is gray or they’re possessed? Like they walked through some portal and completely transformed into something else?

That was what I thought about as I looked at Ema.

She was still dressed the same. The black was still black. The tattoos were still the same. The silver jewelry gleamed just as it had gleamed before. But somehow everything about her seemed different. I know how crazy that sounds. Uncle Myron had told me that when my dad was about my age, he went inside Bat Lady’s house and came out a different person. It almost felt like that, as if Ema had gone through the closet to Narnia and come back again. There was a knowing in her eyes, a maturity in her face.

She looked somehow more grown-up.

Or maybe, after all I had seen on this crazy island, I was big-time projecting.

She didn’t so much walk toward me as float. She kept her head up high. Her eyes didn’t meet mine like they always did. Instead she looked past me and just kept walking.

“Ema?”

“Let’s go,” she said, and even her voice sounded more mature. “We can still catch the next ferry.”

“Wait, what happened in there?”

She didn’t reply. She just kept walking.

“Ema?”

“It’s over,” she said.

“What’s over?”

“Come on. I want to be on that ferry.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s over’?”

She kept moving faster and faster as though she needed to put distance between herself and that house.

“Did you talk to Buck?”

She didn’t stop. I put a hand on her arm. She shrugged it off. I jumped in front of her, blocking her path. I tried to make my voice as gentle as I could.

“What happened in there?”

“I can’t tell you,” she said.