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squinted skeptically. “Where’d you get this?” His reaction reminded Eddie of the librarian’s.
    “My parents bought it at an antiques fair just north of here,” said Eddie. “But look.” He reached forward to turn the page.
    “Whoa,” said the boy, examining the strange words. “What is this?”
    “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Eddie. “In his books, Nathaniel Olmstead always uses codes and stuff. Looks like he went a little bit overboard with this one.”
    “Right, I know. I’ve got all of his books upstairs in my bedroom.”
    “You do?” Eddie was surprised. He had begun to think no one in Gatesweed appreciated Nathaniel Olmstead like he did. “Maybe you can tell me how Nathaniel Olmstead ended up with a souvenir book from your mom’s store?”
    “Duh … Nathaniel Olmstead lived in Gatesweed. My mom knew him.”
    Eddie was speechless. Forgetting the mystery for the moment, he wondered if Nathaniel Olmstead might have stood in this very spot.
    “A long time ago, my mom told me Nathaniel Olmstead was the one who suggested she open the store. He even came up with the name.”
    “That is so cool. Did you know him?”
    “No way,” said the boy. “I was, like, zero years old when he disappeared. Thirteen years ago, on Halloween, he was supposed to give a reading at my mom’s store, but he never showed up. She tried calling him for the next few weeks … but she’s never heard from him again. No one has.”
    “Huh,” said Eddie. “That’s so weird.” Then he had an idea. “Hey, what do you know about the Olmstead Curse?”
    The boy gave him a sharp look. He pressed his lips together, then glanced over Eddie’s shoulder toward the park. When Eddie turned around, he saw the police officer near the bronze bust glaring at them.
    “I—I gotta go,” said the boy suddenly.
    “But—”
    “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to …” The boy shoved the book into Eddie’s hands. He turned around and closed the door to the bookstore, leaving Eddie alone on the porch.
    Across the street, the police officer tossed his brush into the bucket with a splash.
    Eddie decided to ride his bike back home. After hearing Sam mention the possibility of an Olmstead Curse yesterday, he had expected that he might encounter some weird things in Gatesweed. After all, Olmstead stories were pretty weird, so it made sense that the place where he wrote them might be weird too. But after his experience that morning, he thought he could use a break from
weird
for a few hours. Besides, the cryptology book was too heavy to simply carry around while he searched for more sites from Olmstead’s books.
    When he opened his bedroom door, Eddie found his mother sitting on his bed, facing the window with her back to him. “Mom?” Eddie said. She yelped, leapt off his bed,and spun around. When she saw that it was Eddie, relief flooded her face.
    “Edgar, you scared me so badly I nearly flew out the window!”
    “What are you doing?” Eddie asked, curious. Then he noticed what she was holding in her hand, his copy of
The Wrath of the Wendigo
.
    She held up the book and said, “Guilty as charged. I was flipping through your book. I’m sorry I barged in here, but when I was unpacking this morning, I found a box that belongs to you.” The small cardboard box sat at the end of his bed. “Since you were looking for these books last night, I brought them up.”
    “Thanks,” said Eddie.
    “Can I borrow this one?” she said, blushing. “I know it’s creepy fantasy stuff, which isn’t usually my thing. …” She hestitated. “It’s sort of silly, but …” She flipped open the back cover and showed Eddie the picture of Nathaniel Olmstead. “I had a feeling that I should look him up. I thought maybe since we live in his old town now, he could help me.” She paused, then said, “It’s been so difficult lately, I’m not even sure I
should
be a writer anymore.”
    “Of course you should be a writer,”