“I care that you like Six, Sam. But you’re right—I like her too. I wish I didn’t, but I do. It’s stupid and cruel to you, but I can’t stop thinking about her. She’s cool and she’s beautiful and she’s Loric, which is like, extracool. But I love Sarah. And that’s why I have to see her.”

Sam grabs my elbow. “You can’t, man. We have to go back and help Six. Think about it. If they were waiting for us at my place, then even more of them are waiting for us at Sarah’s.”

I gently pull my elbow away from his grip. “You got to see your mom, right? You saw her in the backyard?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. His eyes find his shoes.

“You got to see your mom, so I get to see Sarah.”

“That doesn’t make as much sense as you think it does. We got the transmitter, remember? This is why we’re in Paradise. It’s the only reason.” Sam hands me the tablet, and I stare at its blank screen. I touch every inch of it. I try telekinesis. I hold it to my forehead. The tablet remains off.

“Let me try,” Sam says. As he fumbles with the tablet, I tell him about the ladder, the huge skeleton with the pendant, and the desk and wall covered in papers.

“Six grabbed a handful of the papers, but it’s not like we can read them,” I say.

“So my dad had a secret underground lair?” Sam smiles for the first time in hours, handing the tablet back. “He was so cool. I’d really like to look at the papers Six took.”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Right after I see Sarah.”

Sam opens his arms in astonishment. “What can I do to change your mind? Just tell me.”

“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

The last time I was at Sarah’s house it was Thanksgiving Day. I remember walking up the driveway and seeing Sarah wave from the front window.

“Hey, handsome,” she said when she opened the door, and I turned around to look over my shoulder to pretend she meant it for someone else.

Her house looks completely different at two in the morning. With every window dark, with the garage doors closed, the house looks cold and empty. Uninviting. Sam and I are on our bellies in the shadow of a house on the corner, and I don’t know how I’m going to talk to her.

I pull the prepaid cell phone I’ve had turned off for days out of my jeans. “I could text her until she wakes up.”