Allison set down her bike and bounded up the front porch. With hands shoved deep into my pockets, I followed and leaned on the porch railing, trying to look detached from the scene. That girl I rolled into the street with and followed to your door? Oh, no, I never met her in my life.

Allison knocked and waited while bouncing on her heels. No answer. She was about to knock again when someone called to us from the street. We turned to see a middle-aged man jogging by on the other side of the street.

“I don’t think anyone lives there anymore!” He informed us.

“Thanks.” I waved, trying to stretch my smile to what I imagined might look innocent.

Allison stared at me in mock shock. “Is that a smile? So creepy,” she whispered. My eyebrow twitched but I maintained the expression.

“No problem,” he said. “Hey, if you’re passing out literature, there’s a house at the end of the road that really needs it.”

“Okay, thanks, we’ll keep that in mind.” I suppressed a laugh. I turned back to Allison. “So, they moved. End of story.” Sometimes I had to lay out reality for her to understand.

It didn’t look like she did. She crossed her arms.

“Hey, I didn’t make them move. If I get you home any later, your aunt will demand blood. Shall we?” I motioned down the steps, trying to will her feet to move.

Just when she dropped her arms and moved back toward the driveway, there was a noise inside. It was the barest hint of a thud, but, to Allison, it was as good as an invitation inside. Her creased eyebrows opened back into renewed curiosity as her eyes snapped toward a window.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered.

“No.”

“You did! Come on.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the house. “Maybe we can get in through the back door or an unlocked window.”

“Wait, what? Why?” How did we change from visiting to breaking in? Those late-night detective shows can’t be good for her impressionable mind. “This is why all the other kids’ parents told them not to hang out with you.”

By now she was too busy creeping up the back steps to pay attention to me. If the price for getting Allison home late was death, what was the price for letting her get caught trespassing? I grabbed the hood of her shirt, determined to drag her home, if necessary. “Remember when you said I should come along to keep you from doing something stupid? This is one of those things!” I tried to reason with her (which, I know, doesn’t work). If anyone was inside the house, our—no, Allison’s—intentions were no secret by now. Was there no adult to come out and scare off the nosy teenagers?

“Look, if you’re worried about getting caught, we’ll just say that we heard some noises and thought someone was injured,” she said.

“There’s, I don’t know, actual qualified people for that?”

“Then where are they, if they’re so good at their job, huh?” She tugged herself loose to look at me. Her expression changed from pure curiosity to something somber, to match her determination. I averted my eyes to hide from a sincerity I’d never seen her employ before. “Dani, what if they’re doing something to her and no one cares enough to do something about it?”

With that plea, I understood her investment in this little quest. We never discussed the rumors that floated around about Allison and why she lived with her aunt. If she was burdened with it, she never let on. But her obsession with adventure and new things didn’t feel foreign from the way I would sit in front of the TV for hours when one thought led to thousands.

I wanted to say that this kid’s problems are her own. But, for some reason, it bothered me. Who was this kid in my grade that no one seemed to miss?

Allison must have taken my silence as consent. She inspected the doorknob. “Do you have a lock-pick with you, by any chance?”

“Oh, crap.” I hit my forehead in a wide, sweeping motion. “I must have left my kit in the office at Langley.” I finished off with a glower.

She met it with a glare of her own. “Don’t joke around. This is serious stuff.”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking.

I’m normally much more rational, but tough trying to convince anyone now. I guess this day hasn’t been normal, anyway. I reached out and turned the knob without resistance. It creaked open.

Allison stepped back. I do not know if she was more surprised that the door was unlocked or that I was the one to try opening it. “Oh, I guess that works. I was just about to kick it down, too.”

She waited, listening. Then she took a step inside. The first sign of hesitance was displayed in the way she ducked her head as she entered. I glanced around the nearby houses before following. I didn’t want neighbors seeing me hang around outside an empty home.

Inside the first door was a small entryway with another door at the end. When Allison tried to push this door, it banged against something on the other side. I winced as the clatter echoed into the home. We waited for any sounds of movement inside.

“There’s a dresser blocking the way,” she whispered back to me. “This proves they’re hiding something.”

Of course, because who in their right mind would want to keep a couple of nosy teenagers out of their house? But why block the entryway and not lock the door?

“It’s a good thing I’m normal-sized, and not a skyscraper like you. Can’t stop me that easy.” Apparently, obstacles make her more confident.

Also, at 5’8” I’m hardly towering, but okay. (I guess if you’re a 5’3” sentient neutrino, everything looks threatening. Is that where the aggression comes from? She’s a little Chihuahua ready to defend her territory with the most annoying bark.)

She proceeded to squeeze through the opening between the dresser and the door. Once she made it to the other side, she scooted the dresser away from the door to let me in.

This door opened up to a living room. Straight in front of us was a kitchen. There was a darkened hallway to the left and a room to the right. Despite the noise we made intruding, everything was quiet. But by the dim light the windows offered, I could see furniture and decorations in place around the house.

I was about to voice my relief that no one was home when we heard a loud crash from the room to our right. I took a step back, but Allison turned her ear to listen. After a few seconds of silence, she turned the knob with caution to prevent creaking.

This was the moment. If my day—no, my life—was an EKG, then this moment would be a little dip downward and right before a beep would send the line on a sharp incline to the very top of whatever metaphorical monitor I was attached to. My legs felt heavy. I couldn’t speak, and not just because I was scared of giving us away. I wonder if I knew then what was in store for me beyond this, would I be more or less scared than I was?

The open door revealed a room with a large bed and a mess of blankets falling off it. A large oak dresser at the far end of the room did nothing to keep the piles of clothes off the floor. We peered into a walk-in closet by the entrance and saw a heap of clothes, boxes, and a couple boards where some shelves must have fallen. That explained the loud noise.

I could see a figure half-buried underneath the pile. Allison gasped as whoever (or whatever) it was made a muffled noise and lurched up and backward, trying to get out of the mess (and, by the looks of it, “away from strange trespassers” was also on the agenda). The closet was dark, but I could see she was around our age. She scrambled back a few feet and braced herself with her arms, breathing heavily. The way her pale skin highlighted the darkness of her comically wide eyes might have been humorous if I hadn’t been struck by deer-in-the-headlights syndrome.

Now that we were actually faced with her, I did not know what I was supposed to do. Should I quickly try to explain why we were there or leave it up to her imagination while we tried to calm her down? (Of course, there is always option three: run away and act like nothing happened and, let me tell you, it was tempting. I always thought ding-dong-ditch needed a high-stakes update.) How did I get into this?

Her eyes shifted from Allison to me and then her shoulders relaxed a little. Seeing this promising progress, Allison broke the silence. “Emelia, I presume?”