Grace and Harrison sit on one of the tables together. Harrison keeps the flashlight trained on the boys and says he’s afraid of the door being open for the brief second it will take me to walk out of it but no one comforts him. Grace is zoned out, like she can’t really understand how this happened or why but I can tell she wants me to go out there. I know she does.

“You don’t have to do this,” Rhys says.

“Shut up.” Trace grunts as he pushes a desk aside. “She wants to.”

I nod. “I want to.”

Rhys sighs, resigned, and then he says something terrible.

“I’ll go with you.” No. No. No. I open my mouth to protest but he cuts me off. “I mean, let’s just say if by some miracle the guy out there isn’t dead—”

“My father is not dead,” Trace says loudly.

Rhys ignores him. “That means you have to get him back inside and there’s no way you’re going to be able to do it alone. It’s a two-person job. Unless you want to die.”

Ha ha. My stomach turns. This went from good to bad, just like that, but I can’t let it stop me. I work quickly to rationalize it. It’s better this way. It makes it easier. Instead of leaving Trace and Grace high and dry, Rhys can go back and tell them if it’s Mr. Casper or not. If it’s Mr. Casper, Rhys can get him back into the school. And me—when I go, I won’t have that on my conscience. That would be good. It’s a good thing that Rhys is coming with me. It’s good.

“Fine,” I say. “Okay.”

Trace and Cary move the last shelf aside, leaving the door naked before us. Rhys bends down and tightens his shoelaces. I do the same.

“Why are you doing this?” He doesn’t ask me quietly enough.

“I was wondering too,” Grace says. “Is it because of…”

She stops but I know what she’s going to say. Is it because of what I said to you? I don’t know how to tell her I’m sorry I hurt her but it’s nothing to do with her. I don’t think I can. I knot my shoelaces twice and get to my feet. She waits on my answer.

“I like your family.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.

Her face softens. I wonder if she’s thinking of the sleepover. Something inside me just wants to see her remember it like Trace wants it to be his father outside because—I don’t know.

I guess it’s the last thing I have.

“Okay,” Cary says.

Trace gives me a hug and I lose myself in the sensation. It’s so dizzyingly nice, like someone wants me and I almost think it would be worth hanging around for if it was an all-the-time thing. He lets me go, gives Rhys a curt nod, and then hands us each a baseball bat. I hold mine limply at my side. Rhys clutches his so hard his knuckles turn white.