Arnold’s car rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the small two lane road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The private road in front of him seemed to lead nowhere and even the full moon, fat and pure silver didn’t give him an idea of where it went. His old Volvo shook as it idled. I should just turn around, he told himself. This is such a bad idea. Instead, he turned on the dome light above him to read the email he’d printed yesterday.
“WELCOME TO THE 20TH REUNION OF MS. FRIZZLE’S 3RD GRADE CLASS!!!” the header of the email screamed.…