“Why?” I asked, although I had to admit that the situation could easily seem a little worrying. “I mean . . . what happened? I don’t remember . . . anything.”

“You don’t remember coming out here?” he asked.

I shook my head.

A massive web of blue lightning spread over the sky, and the thunder that followed sounded like it was on top of us.

“Come on,” Barrett said. “Let’s go back to the house.”

I kept pace with him, although the gravel hurt my feet, and I tried not to notice how many graves there were. I especially tried not to notice the very small ones.

“This place is so creepy,” I said.

“Yeah, it is,” he said. “I had no idea it was even here. How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” I insisted. “Honestly, I was in bed one minute, and then . . .”

And then what? A memory flashed into my mind. The key. I’d been holding the key, thinking about using it.

“Did we come through the Adam and Eve gate?” I asked.

“You honestly don’t remember?”

“No,” I said. “Honestly.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I followed you down and you went straight to the gate, unlocked it, and came inside. It was like you were looking for something.”

I gazed around, perplexed. “How did you even know I was awake?”

“You were making a ton of noise,” he said. “Probably putting together that outfit. My closet wall backs up to your bedroom, and I heard you thumping around.”

I suddenly remembered to worry that I was wearing thin cotton pajamas in the dumping rain, but when I took a second to notice my outfit, I was relieved—sort of—to find that I had apparently dressed myself before embarking on this little adventure. Over my pajama top, I wore the I LEFT MY HEAPT IN FLORID shirt, and over that I had put on a tan blazer that Laura had given me.

Okay, I may have looked like I dressed myself in the dark, but at least I was covered up. Which was more than could be said for Barrett, whose wet shirt clung to the muscles of his chest—very nicely, I thought, and then gave myself a mental pinch.

“I must have been sleepwalking,” I said. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“Weird,” he said. “Has it happened before?”

The path rounded a corner, and under a weeping willow tree whose branches reached almost to the ground, I saw a small, flat grave marker. Its placement was so out of the way, its presentation so humble compared to the soaring, carved stones and walled-off spaces of the other graves that I felt drawn to it.

Barrett fidgeted as I walked closer. “Don’t you think we should go back?”

“Yes,” I said. “This will only take a second.”