I could barely contain myself as I sat atop my bed and spread the papers across the quilt that evening. I kept the alphabet code on my lap, as a reference, and began deciphering the words on the various pages as best I could. A bunch of it meant very little . . . stuff about people and things I didn't know. Like "Ben is not allowed, here," or "hiding place for the swords," or "snakes a natural defense." It basically was like the kind of stuff I would've done with my old friends—create some coded way of labeling our world, so other people couldn't quite figure out what we were doing or where we were hiding, or whatever. The more I looked at all of it, the more I began to wish I'd been sitting there with whoever had come up with all of it. I felt almost guilty, like I was trespassing on somebody else's secrets. On the other hand, this awesome warm feeling of excitement filled me up, and I was still poking through all of it when Great Grandma called us in for dinner.

I was reluctant to sit down and eat, not just because I'd been so absorbed in my new mysterious find but also because I was unsure if anyone had discovered the mess in the fancy room. The way everyone talked, though, convinced me that no one had any idea about it.

My mind was so preoccupied that when Grandpa sat down across from me and asked me to pass something to him, I didn't even hear, so my sister elbowed me and shook me from my daze.

"Did you have fun with your friends, today?" Great Grandma was asking me and Penny.

"Yes! Maisie was so nice."

The Francises had left very shortly after Alex and I had found the folder. Though he'd wanted to go figure out the messages right away, I wanted more time to peruse the papers by myself, so I'd convinced him that it was better to finish cleaning up, first, and by the time we'd done that, his mother had returned. I'd promised I'd tell him what I discovered . . . but I'd see about that, depending on what I found. It was, after all, my discovery.

"We've got to probably get to the church tomorrow," Great Grandma said. "Planning for the Christmas choral event and all. I fully expect the two of you to take part."

"A Christmas show? How fun!" Penny chirped.

"I'm not singing anything," I blurted.

Great Grandma turned to me, probably just as startled at the fact that I'd spoken as she was miffed at what I'd actually said. "Robert, all the children in the church participate. It's a tradition. Plus, it will help you with making friends. The Francises do it every year."

"Then go adopt them; you obviously think they're the best," I muttered, slouching into my chair and promising myself I'd go back to my silence. I felt Grandpa's eyes on me but didn't care. All of it was too much. I shoved my pork steak back a bit on my plate. Then I got up and started off, thought better of it, and returned to put my plate in the sink. At least I appeared somewhat helpful. Nobody said anything, and I took that as permission to go back to my room.

I wasn't singing anything for anybody.

I plopped back down onto my bed, the papers rustling softly as the mattress moved up and down. I hadn't had a whole lot of time to think about it, but obviously the most important thing about my find was the fact that I could decode the graffiti that had popped up recently. The school had scrubbed the paint off, unfortunately . . . but I hoped to find a photo of it somewhere. The silo, however—I jumped back off my bed; the paint on the silo was still there! Great Grandma hadn't cared about it enough to pay someone to paint over it or scrub it off!

I whipped on my jacket and some shoes faster than it seemed possible. As I raced out of the house, not even bothering to brush my teeth, Great Grandma called to me, but I willfully didn't hear or notice the dazed expressions on the faces of my family members at the table and rushed out, the squeaky screen door slamming behind me.

It was dusty outside. Chilly and dry and getting a little dim, but my racing thoughts kept me going. I carried the sheaf of papers under one arm and walked briskly (after running full speed for about thirty seconds). It was only about a ten-minute walk if I stayed on the path, but it felt longer because my mind was a muddle of nerves and annoyance at the fact that my Great Grandma expected me to sing in some stupid pageant. As I was wandering through my brain, watching my feet more than anything else around me, a brusque "Where you going?" from my left stopped me in my tracks.

I looked around, already knowing it was Jay, and I was right—there he was, jogging to catch up with me. He looked a little breathless, and I wondered why I hadn't noticed him as I passed by, but then again, I had other things on my mind than Jay's walking habits.

"Where've you been?" I asked a little sourly, picking up my walk again. "I had to put up with Alex all day today."

My mood didn't seem to put Jay off as he trotted along next to me like some dog waiting for a scrap of food.

"Yeah, so? Thought he was your friend," he drawled, scrunching up his pug nose and scowling at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, not really."

"I don't like him too much."

"Neither do I."

Jay stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Well you could've fooled me," he sassed. His tone shifted to one of reconciliation. "So how did it go, then?"

"Actually, pretty good." I stopped walking again and showed him what was in my hands.

He seemed taken aback for a second, then asked, "What's that? Your homework?"

"No! It's a code." I waved the one page I carried in front of him. "Listen, I found this in my Great Grandma's house. It was all hidden away with a bunch of other papers. I can explain it all, but really what you need to know is that it'll help me read what's on the silo."

"Oh, we're on a need-to-know basis right now, is that it? When did you find this stuff? Were you gonna tell me? Why didn't you call?"

"Uh, do you have a number?" I started moving again. Just to get away from his questions. He was starting to get on my nerves.

"Bet if you wanted to find it, you could!"

"You're making me tired, Jay," I went on, as he kept pace beside me. "Just so you know, I didn't invite Alex over this time. My Great Grandma did. And he destroyed a shelf full of glass, so I was just trying to help pick it up when I found these papers."

This new turn in the conversation got a rise out of Jay. "Wait. He did what?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Totally ruined about fifty pieces of Great Grandma's junk collection."

"He's such a jerk," Jay said, and I don't know why, but the word jerk seemed a bit harsh to me.

"He's not really so bad," I found myself saying, much to my own surprise. "I mean . . . I was thinking about telling him some of the stuff . . . you know. Maybe, about the monster. He did help me figure out that this was a code. He really wanted to come to the silo with me, but he had to leave."

"Now hold on! I've been trying to help you this whole dang time. I thought Alex was the one who started the whole thing in the first place, you thinking you were crazy and everything. Leaving you in the woods in the middle of the night. Don't you tell him anything!"

"I really don't want to talk about this. Besides . . . there's the silo."

Somehow, we'd made our way to it without paying much attention; our feet just knew the way. I pointed to the giant, cylindrical building awkwardly, as if Jay didn't already know what it was.

"The writing is still there," he said, sort of awed by it again. "Let me see that code."

He tried to grab the paper, but I whipped it away. "Nothing personal," I said, "but this is mine."

"What'd you think I'm gonna do, burn it?" Jay snarled.

I was a little over his attitude but turned my brain to the task at hand. "All right," I said, looking seriously at the code cracker. "Let's take a look at this." I stared up at the twisted black markings. They'd been entirely inscrutable and, to my knowledge, nonsensical until now. I looked down at the paper in my hands and then back up at the silo several times, trying to decode the message.

"You know," Jay interrupted my thoughts, "even if you can read what's up there, what makes you think the message is meant for you?"

"Does it matter?" I asked him, not really thinking about his question. I was too engrossed with what I was discovering. "B . . ." I deciphered. "L . . . F. . . hold on. That's a a, not an f. N." I turned to Jay, a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat's on my face. "K . . . that one's weird . . . could be an e or a y. But no, it has to be an e, cause the last letter is T, which would spell . . . BLANKET! That's what it says! You hear me? We figured it out!" I was really quite pleased with myself, and his disinterest annoyed me.

"Blanket? So what?" he said flatly.

"Well . . . I don't know," I answered truthfully. "Blanket. Yeah, you're right. That's a pretty dumb thing to put up there." I stood there stupidly, the anti-climactic moment settling, making me feel like an idiot. There was just nothing there. Blanket. Nothing at all. I noticed that the sky was darkening, and before Jay could decide he needed to leave, I had to make sure he'd walk back to Great Grandma's with me. The last thing I wanted was to be alone in the dark. I opened my mouth to ask, but he beat me to it.

"Let's go back. I don't want you to be out here alone with the monster after you."

And I remembered why I liked him.