“Eddie, get away.” Harris yanked him backward as something large in the middle of the lake splashed the dark water. Several waves came rolling slowly toward the shore. Unable to look away, Eddie felt his skin go prickly with goose bumps. His mouth felt as if it was filled with dust. His hands were numb. Harris continued to pull on his sleeve. When Eddie glanced at him, he could see fright welling up in Harris’s eyes. His mouth had fallen open, and his skin had turned ashen. Seeing Harris afraid made Eddie twice as scared as before.

Harris swiftly shot his finger to his lips and nodded toward the hillside. Slowly backing away, the boys made it to the edge of the woods. Several pine branches poked into Eddie’s back. He jumped. The splashing in the middle of the lake stopped. The small waves finally rose up and rolled onto the pebbly beach, breaking and washing the shore in slow, steady rhythm. The soft lapping of the water was the only sound Eddie could hear. Then, several feet from the edge of the lake, a shape churned the water-something rising from the shallows below the surface. A muffled howl resonated faintly from its direction. Eddie’s mouth dropped open in horror as he saw what looked like a long black snout and a flash of several sharp white teeth.

The boys turned and ran as fast as they could, slipping and sliding up the slope in the mud and dirt. At the top of the hill, the statue watched silently as the boys ran through the clearing and into the woods. Eddie followed Harris, leaping over large roots and half-buried rocks that jutted out of the ground every few feet. In some places, the trees had grown densely together. Trying not to slip in patches of silt and leaves, the boys weaved back and forth as if through an obstacle course. Even though he was nearly out of breath, Eddie glanced over his shoulder.

But there was nothing there.

Still, he wanted to get away from this place as quickly as possible. Eddie sprinted into the woods, clutching the straps of his bag, which bounced against his back. At the edge of the flatland, the boys briefly caught their breath before heading over the ridge, through the orchard, past Nathaniel Olmstead’s house, and all the way down the long driveway. By the time they got to their bikes, Eddie was feeling faint.

He dropped to the side of the road and hung his head between his knees. After he caught his breath, he glanced up at Harris, who was leaning against the fence in shock. “What the heck just happened?” said Eddie. “I thought I saw… dogs… coming out of the water for us!”

“I’m not sure what I saw,” said Harris, red-faced and weary. “But I have an idea.” He pushed himself away from the fence and stumbled toward his bike. “There’s something else I think you should see.”

“It’s not another statue, is it?” said Eddie.

Harris shook his head, lifted the handlebar, and set his bicycle upright at the edge of the road. After swinging his leg over the seat, he kicked at Eddie’s bike, which was still on its side in the brush. “Do you think you’re okay enough to ride this thing back to my place?”

Eddie nodded.

“Because we should probably get the heck out of here.”

By the time they reached Main Street, Eddie was shaking with exhaustion and fear. “Hey! Wait for me!” Eddie called, but Harris raced toward his mother’s store.

When Eddie came around the side of the building, he noticed Harris’s bike tossed near the still-swinging apartment door. Eddie propped his bike against the wall. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled.

Up the stairs to Eddie’s right, Harris stood in front of another open door. “This way,” Harris said.

At the top of the stairs Eddie found a neatly kept kitchen. Harris dropped his book bag onto a chair at a table opposite the refrigerator. Green gingham curtains hung in the window above the sink. A bowl of fruit sat on the counter. A dishwasher was running quietly.

“Where have you been, Harris? I was starting to worry.” A woman came through a doorway next to the refrigerator with a dripping tea bag in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. She looked about the same age as Eddie’s mother. She wore jeans, a tank top, and baubly green beads draped around her neck. When she noticed that Harris was not alone, she said, “Oh, I didn’t realize you brought home a friend.” Her smile was sweet. Her warm brown eyes matched the few dark strands that ran through her blond hair. “You boys are filthy,” she said with amusement. “What have you been doing?”

“Eddie’s going to stay for dinner. Is that okay?” asked Harris, quickly changing the subject. He walked over to the sink and started to wash his hands.

“That’s fine with me,” said Harris’s mother, shrugging. “But why don’t you call your parents and ask them if it’s okay. Do you like leftover meat loaf, Eddie?”

Eddie nodded sheepishly. He hadn’t prepared himself to meet Harris’s mother, never mind have her invite him to stay for dinner. He felt dirty and intrusive, but when she held out her hand and introduced herself, he realized he was welcome.

“You can call me Frances,” she said. “How was the first day, Harris? Who’d you get for homeroom this year?”

“It was fine. I got Dunkleman this time.” Harris spun away from the sink and wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving wide wet marks over his pockets. “Come on, Eddie. Let’s go play video games. You can call your mom from my room.”

“You finished your homework already?” said Frances.

“First day of school. I only have a little bit tonight,” said Harris, disappearing around the corner into the hallway. “I’ll do it before bed, okay?”

Eddie looked at Frances, who just smiled and waved, shooing him off to follow her son. “Boys,” she said with fake exasperation. “Go. Play. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“You too,” said Eddie, following Harris around the corner.

A few minutes later, Eddie was sitting on Harris’s bed, as Harris leaned over his computer’s keyboard. “Here,” said Harris, typing Nathaniel Olmstead’s name into a search engine Web site. Several items related to the author appeared in the search window. Buy Nathaniel Olmstead books… 50% off! Are you an Olmsteady…? Click here! Harris clicked on the last link, which appeared to be a listing from the archives of the Gatesweed Gazette. “Check this out.”

On the screen an article appeared, dating from the time of the author’s disappearance. Eddie read the first part of it carefully. The article described how the town-wide search party had discovered the statue in the woods.

“After I started getting into Nathaniel Olmstead’s books, I came across this article,” said Harris, scrolling the cursor to the bottom of the screen. A small box appeared where the article ended, showing a crudely drawn map of the Nameless Woods. The clearing, the statue, and the lake were specifically marked. “I used this map to find my way. I wanted to see if I could discover anything the search party might have missed.”

“What’s that there?” said Eddie, leaning forward and pointing at an X that had been marked in the middle of the lake, in the same spot where the water had turned black.

“That’s where the police found evidence.”

“What sort of evidence?” said Eddie.

Harris scrolled the cursor and read from the screen. “‘When the lake was dredged, police discovered a small metal box. The nature of its contents is being kept secret as the investigation is ongoing. However, an anonymous source has exclusively revealed that this secret evidence has itself mysteriously disappeared.’”

“That is weird!” said Eddie. “What do you think was in the box?”

Harris shook his head. “Listen to this,” he said as he continued to read. “‘The disappearance of the evidence was understandable to one eyewitness, who wished to remain unidentified. According to the witness, as the lake was being dredged, a pack of vicious dogs chased the search party from the area. “In all the confusion,” said the witness, “anything we found might have been lost. We barely escaped with the seats of our pants intact. It was like something from one of poor Nathaniel’s books.”’” Harris stopped reading and turned to look at Eddie.