I’m scared. I haven’t seen Jack this mad in a long time. He’s even madder than he was inside Murphy’s when I wrote the question about Shelby in my notebook. And he’s hurting my wrist. I hang back when we get outside the store, twisting my hand until he lets go.

“Get on your bike,” he says, already swinging a leg over his own. “And try to keep up.” His voice is mean, which is scaring me even more. Jack hardly ever talks mean to me, unless something’s really wrong.

It’s hard to keep up. Jack’s fast on his bike even when he’s not mad. He swerves around people on the sidewalk, races through two stop signs without looking, and almost hits a lady walking her dog. “Hey!” she screams as he flies on past. “Where’s the fire, buddy?”

I might have been more scared if I didn’t know where he was going. But I know as soon as he turns into the alley next to the Poultney Flower Shop that he’s headed toward the car lot on the other side of town. Mom always used to take us to visit Dad at work whenever we came into town, but it was Jack who showed me the shortcut.

Every few minutes, he checks on me, looking over his shoulder as he crosses a street or comes to the end of another block. But every time he does, he looks irritated, like he’s mad at me for being so far behind. And even though there’s so much distance between us, he doesn’t slow down. Not once.

I don’t understand what just happened. Mrs. Murphy told Jack that declined meant that something was off. Does that mean something fell off the card because it was broken? It didn’t look broken to me. It looked perfectly flat. Maybe it was her machine, like she said, and she just didn’t try enough times. Three doesn’t sound like enough times to me. I think you should try at least five. Maybe I can write that in my notebook when we get to the car lot. Tell Jack to go back and let her try it a few more times.

Jack turns hard on Webby Road and starts pedaling to the top of it. Webby Road is a long, gigantic hill. At the top of it is Dad’s car lot. I can already see the big red sign overhead: KENDALL’S AUTO SALES. I haven’t been to Dad’s work in a long time, not since Mom got sick, but the same proud feeling whenever I see our name up there rises in my chest. Dad started the car lot all by himself, when he was first married. Mom always said he was the best salesman in Vermont. I bet he’s sold a thousand cars since I was born. Maybe even more than that.

I’m almost to the middle of the hill when I notice that Jack’s gotten off his bike. But something’s wrong. He’s thrown it to the ground instead of leaning it on the kickstand. And he’s just standing there, staring at something. My heart starts to beat real fast as I keep pedaling. The steepest part is right before the top, and by the time I get there, I’m panting. Jack still hasn’t moved from his spot. But he’s put his hands on top of his head, and he’s pulling at his hair.

I look over to where he’s staring. Something seems weird, but I don’t know what it is. I look more carefully. Dad’s office, which is just a little white building off to the right, looks the same as always. There’s the blue rocking chair Mom gave him for the front stoop and the gigantic stone flowerpot next to it. The blinds in the front window are closed, just the way I remember, and the American flag, which Dad hangs every morning, is flapping in the breeze.

“Where are the cars?” Jack whispers. His face is white. “Where are all the cars?”

That’s when I realize what’s wrong.

The parking lot next to Dad’s office, which used to be filled with rows and rows of clean, shiny cars, is completely empty. Actually, that’s not true. A blue Cadillac Eldorado is parked next to Dad’s office. But that’s Dad’s car. The one he’s been driving for the last ten years. Everything else is gone. Missing. Like some gigantic tornado came in and just swept everything away.

“There’s nothing here.” Jack starts walking toward Dad’s office. “There’s nothing left!” His voice is getting louder and angrier, and even though I’m scared, I run to catch up with him.

Because I don’t know what’s worse: being alone in an empty car lot, or staying with Jack to find out why.