Ema didn’t reply. She looked around as though she’d just realized that we were half in the woods, half leaning against the back of Bat Lady’s house. “So why are you here anyway? No luck with the fat chick, so you figured you’d try the old one?”

I just looked at her.

“I heard what they said. Buck and Troy. They’ve been on me for so long it’s hard to remember a time when they weren’t.” She turned away, bit her lower lip, and then faced me again. “I also heard they threatened you for defending me.”

I shrugged it off.

“So what are you doing here?”

I wondered how to explain it and went with the simple: “I want to talk to Bat Lady.”

Ema smiled. “No, seriously.”

“I am serious.”

“No, you’re not. Because, well, she’s not real. Bat Lady’s just a myth the big kids use to scare the little kids. I mean, I don’t know anyone who has ever seen her.”

“I’ve seen her,” I said.

“When?”

“This morning.” Then I added: “She told me that my father was still alive.”

Ema looked puzzled.

“He died in a car crash earlier this year,” I explained.

“Whoa,” Ema said, her eyes going wide. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“I just want to talk to her.”

“Okay, I get it. I saw you knock on her door. So what’s your plan now?”

“Try the back door.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Ema said. She looked toward the woods and narrowed her eyes. “Look at that.”

She pointed into the woods and took a few steps in that direction. I didn’t see anything other than trees.

“There’s a road back there,” Ema said. “Maybe a building.” I still didn’t see it. She walked toward it. I followed her. A few steps later, I could see that she was right. There, maybe fifty yards behind Bat Lady’s house, was what might have been a garage, painted in a brown-green that worked as camouflage. There was a dirt road from somewhere in the woods leading up to it. You couldn’t see either one from the front of the house. Heck, you couldn’t even see them from the back door.