Free Dead Ends by Erin Jade Lange

second longer, then turned to Billy. “No visitors after dark,” she repeated, and disappeared out the door.
    Billy and I were back in his room, unearthing the photo album, the instant the door closed. We didn’t even have to study the pictures. Billy’s mom had made it easy for us with a label right inside the cover:
Our wedding, Cancún, Mexico.
    I read it out loud to Billy, and he wrinkled his nose. “That’s not in my atlas.” He pulled the book out of his backpack and showed me the front cover. “United States of America.”
    I frowned, thinking. “What does the clue say?”
    Billy flipped to Pennsylvania and recited the line printed under the map. I noticed he read it much faster this time, almost like he had already memorized it. I wondered how many of the clues he knew by heart.
    â€œBoth met and married,” I repeated, mumbling to myself. “Different but the same.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    Different but the same.
“Did they meet in Cancún?” I asked.
    Billy huffed and crossed his arms. “I told you I don’t know that stuff.”
    â€œWell, where are your parents from?” I pressed. “Where did they grow up? Oregon?”
    Billy shook his head. “No. Here.”
    â€œWhat?” I started in surprise. “Here in Columbia?”
    â€œHere in Missouri.”
    I jumped to my feet and started pacing like I expected the movement to shake my brain loose or something. “Where in Missouri?”
    Billy waved his arms, frustrated. “I don’t know, Dane. But Mom said, ‘Missouri is home. We’re going home.’” He pouted. “You’re asking a lot of questions.”
    â€œAnnoying, isn’t it?” I raised my eyebrows.
    Billy just scowled.
    â€œDifferent but the same.” I paced some more. “Mexico and Oregon. Mexico and Missouri.” I stopped in my tracks and flashed a smile at Billy. “Mexico, Missouri!”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œIt’s a town! It’s a town with a stupid name right here in Missouri.” I dropped to the floor and flipped eagerly to the map of Missouri. “Look, you don’t even have to write it in. It’s already there.”
    I pointed out Mexico to Billy—less than an inch away from Columbia on the map. “I bet that’s where they met. And see? There’s a clue at the bottom of this page, too.” I was talking fast.“I think that’s why some pages have clues and some don’t. There’s a pattern, like an order to it, and you have to find the right order until you get to the end. …”
    I’d said too much. I could see it in the way Billy’s face lit up.
    â€œI’m not sure …” I stumbled. “I didn’t mean …”
    But I couldn’t backpedal as fast as Billy could run full steam ahead.
    â€œCan we go there?” he asked.
    â€œGo where?”
    â€œTo Mexico.” He uncapped a pen and drew a careful circle around Mexico, Missouri.
    â€œDude, I doubt your dad’s in—”
    â€œJust to see,” he said, perfectly calm.
    I still didn’t think the clues led anywhere except to more maps, but it couldn’t hurt to check out one little town. Anything that kept Billy happy kept me out of trouble at school. And on top of that, I admitted only to myself, I sort of wanted to help the kid find his dad. A dad like that, who bought you Christmas presents and took you to the zoo and let you spend an hour at the monkey cage, now
that
was a dad worth finding.
    â€œYeah, we can go there sometime,” I said. “On a weekend when I can borrow my mom’s car.”
    â€œYou can drive?” Billy asked.
    â€œOf course I can drive. I’m sixteen.”
    â€œBut you always walk,” Billy said.
    I pulled my eyes down to the floor, suddenly very interested in a dark stain on the worn-out carpet. “That’s just because