“Does anyone know why it’s called Goblin’s Den?” The laughing stops. Everyone looks at me silently as though I had just asked if the moon landing was real, or if Elvis was really dead. I shrug as though it’s no big deal and turn on my flashlight, illuminating their confused faces in the cold, black night. “Just wondering,” I say quietly. The chatter resumes. I shake my head and walk a few feet away so I can check my backpack again. One or two of the others give me dirty looks, but I ignore them. It had been Carter’s idea to do this, not mine. “Don’t listen to him,” says Ellen. “He’s just —”