Dead Ends by Erin Jade Lange Page A

made all the names funnier, and by the time we got to Mosquitoville, Vermont, Seely was rolling on the ground, and I was clutching my side. Billy’s belly laugh came out in a stilted “HA. HA. HA” that only made us crack up harder.
    â€œDude, that sounds like”—I gasped for air between my own wheezy laughs—“like a dog barking.”
    Seely snorted and spit a little chunk of chocolate-covered peanut out her nose. Billy and I roared.
    â€œOw, that huuuurt,” Seely cried, but even in pain, she couldn’t stop laughing.
    When we finally ran out of breath, we were spread all over the lawn. I stared at the sky, trying to remember the last time I’d laughed that hard. The only person I ever made laugh at all was Mom, and it was never quite that fun. The clouds above us were turning a threatening shade of gray and moving toward each other from the east and west. A warm breeze spun white dandelion debris into the air.
    â€œI think it’s going to storm,” I said.
    When no one answered, I looked over and saw Seely sitting up with the atlas balanced on her knees. After a moment, she said, “You could try an online directory, you know—just look him up.”
    I sat up. “Yeah, I thought of that already.” Now I understood why Billy had said “duh” when I’d suggested it. “But there aretoo many Paul Drums. Hundreds of them, all over the country. It would be crazy to try to call them all.”
    Billy rolled over in the grass. “I wish Dad had a cool name like one of the towns. Then he’d be easy to find.”
    â€œDoesn’t your mom know how to find him?” Seely asked.
    Billy went back to picking at the grass.
    Seely looked at me with a question in her eyes, and I gave a tiny shake of my head.
    â€œWell, anyway, I didn’t mean looking him up by just his name.” Seely closed the atlas and ran her thumb along the spine. “I meant start by looking up the town—every clue leads to another town, right?”
    Billy pulled himself upright and stared at Seely. “Yeah.”
    â€œSo … solve a clue, look up the town, and see if your dad is listed. One town at a time.”
    Why didn’t we think of that?
    â€œYou could start with the clues you’ve already solved,” Seely went on. “Look for Paul Drum in all of those first.”
    â€œYes!” Billy got to his knees, leaning in toward Seely and the atlas. “Let’s do it. Let’s do it right now. Do you have the Internet on your phone?”
    â€œI don’t have the Internet,” Seely said, holding up a beat-up, old flip phone.
    â€œMe, neither.” Billy frowned.
    They both looked at me.
    â€œYeah, right,” I laughed, producing my own cheapo cell. “This thing barely makes phone calls.”
    â€œWell, we’ll just use a computer,” Seely said. “That’s faster, anyway.”
    â€œI don’t have a computer,” Billy said. “I have to use the ones in the library at school.”
    I pictured the folding table and chairs that substituted for a dining room set at Billy’s house and felt a tug in my gut. I knew Mom and I weren’t the poorest people in Columbia, but now I realized we weren’t even the poorest people on our street.
    â€œI don’t have a computer, either,” I said.
    â€œI do.” Seely looked back and forth at us and grew shy all of a sudden. “I mean, if you don’t mind my help. I don’t want to butt in—”
    â€œThat’s great,” Billy said.
    â€œYeah, cool!” I said. I swallowed hard and glanced away from Seely. “I mean fine, whatever.”
    â€œAnd you live right across the street.” Billy got to his feet. “Let’s go right now.”
    I stood, too, and pointed out the dark clouds that had finally come together above us. They were swirling, and the electricity in the air was making our arm