The policeman on duty near the ice cream shop runs over to me. I sit down on the road, shaking. 

“Are you alright? What’s your name?” He asks.

“G-ghosts. There were ghosts.” I mutter, clinging to my flashlight.

“Well, it is a spooky night. I’m sure your eyes must have been playing a trick on you.” He says. I shake my head.

“They were real. I saw them. And the Evans boy, too.”

“Let me guess. You’ve been listening to ghost stories.” He asks.

“Yes, my sister told me one, but it’s real.”

“Sure, kid. Where do you live?” I point up the road, and the policeman takes my arm, leading me that way. 

“He seemed nice. I don’t think he would have hurt me.” I say, on the way back. 

“Ghosts aren’t real. Nice ones, or mean ones.”

“I saw him. I talked to him!”

“I’m sure you were just imagining it. There’s no shame. Kids have active imaginations.” The policeman knocks on the door to our house. Mom appears a few seconds later, half-asleep. “Ma’am, I found your daughter down in Old Turbrook. She claimed she was seeing ghosts.”

“I knew they shouldn’t have told that story.” Mom mutters, grabbing my hand. “Thank you for retrieving her, sir.” 

“No problem, ma’am.” He tips his hat to her, and walks back down the road. Mom pulls me inside. 

“Are you hurt? Why did you go out there at this time of night?”

“I saw the Evans boy in the Mortimers’ garden, and I wanted to say hello to him.” Mom sighs. “He was a nice ghost.”

“Nice or not, you shouldn’t have gone out alone. You shouldn’t have gone out at all!” She says, leading me upstairs.

“But I saw the ghost!” I argue.

“No, you didn't. Ghosts aren’t real. Go to bed.” She takes the flashlight from me and points into the bedroom. I climb into bed, ignoring my sisters’ questions about where I was and why a policeman had to bring me home.

In the morning, I am up early, reading every single encyclopedia article about ghosts. Tessa wakes up to find me reading about benevolent ghost sightings. 

“What happened last night?” Tessa asks, eyeing how all the encyclopedias are open to a page with ghosts. “And what is with the sudden obsession with ghosts?” She sits down next to me, and reads over my shoulder.

“I saw a ghost last night.” I whisper in her ear. “In the Mortimer’s yard, just where you said he would be on foggy nights.”

“You mean you saw Jack Evans?” Tessa asks. Jack. That’s his name.

“I think so.”

“Did he say anything?” Tessa asks, pulling out a notebook and a pen. She had a habit of writing everything down. 

“He invited me to walk with him to the ice cream shop.”

“And did you go?”

“Yes.” I say proudly, but Tessa gasps.

“Lara, that’s dangerous! What if he tried to hurt you? Ghosts are not to be trifled with.”

“He was nice! I don’t think he would hurt me. And there were more ghosts at the ice cream shop.”

“And they could have been malevolent! He could have been leading you into a death trap! I’ve read about this one ghost who lures children to their deaths!”

“Well, if he shows up again tonight, you can ask him yourself if he’s mean or not.” Tessa sighs.

“You can’t go out again! Mom will be furious. And I’m definitely not coming with you.”

“Well, don’t complain to me later that you never got to meet a ghost.” I say, in a singsong voice. Tessa sighs.

“Fine. I’ll come. But only for a few minutes.” Emie and Kelsie are already playing with dolls. “They don’t seem to remember the story from last night.” 

“Think again.” I say, and point to them. Emie is playing with a giant stuffed fish toy. She’s singing: ‘I’m the Sugar Shark and you’re my dinner. La la la la la.” Tessa covers her mouth to hold back a laugh.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have told them the story.” She says, closing the encyclopedias and putting them back on the shelf. “But it is Turbrook history, after all. They just don’t teach it in school, for some reason.”

“Maybe because most people think it’s just a story.” I say. “Should we go get breakfast? I heard Mom say it’s ready.” Tessa nods and calls to the younger two girls. We walk down the stairs all in one group. I spot something out of the corner of my eye, but it’s just the glare of the sun on a picture frame. I guess I’m seeing ghosts everywhere now. I think, and go down to breakfast. 

Emie and Kelsie are already messy from their popsicles, and we’ve only left the ice cream shop a few minutes ago. We sit on one of the picnic tables outside, the sun melting our popsicles, and making stripes of red and purple juice trailing down our hands. Mom is chatting with other adults inside the shop, so she isn’t paying attention to us. I lead Tessa over to where the ghosts were standing earlier.

“They were right here.” I explain. “About twenty of them.” Tessa explores the area, and sifts through the soil. 

“There aren’t any footprints, but that’s expected from ghosts.” She says. Someone leaves the ice cream shop and walks over to us. It’s Miss Mortimer, the twenty-year old lady who lives across the street from us. 

“Hey, girls.” She says, grinning from ear to ear. “I was just talking to your mother, and your family is invited to my house for a pool party tomorrow. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Tessa and I nod, and I know we’re thinking the exact same thing. Once Miss Mortimer leaves, we turn to each other and start talking. 

“I bet we could learn more about the ghost there. It’s where he died, after all.”

“And if the pool party lasts late, we might see the ghost.” I reply.

“And then they’ll believe us about him!” Tessa cheers. She sucks on her cherry popsicle, which turns her lips red with the juice. We look over at Emie and Kelsie, one covered in a sticky chocolate mess, and the other in a sticky, strawberry mess. I leave Tessa with them and go to get some napkins. The interior of the ice cream shop is nice and cool. Mom is still chatting with people. I recognize one of them as the policeman from last night. I glare at him as I leave the shop, my hands full of napkins. 

I hand half of the napkins to Tessa, who starts to clean off Emie’s face, and I wipe the strawberry off of Kelsie’s entire face. How do they manage to get so messy?

That night, Tessa and I peek through the blinds at the Mortimer house. Tessa is about to give up and go back to bed when he appears. Jack Evans walks down the road, and stops in front of our house. Tessa grips my arm tightly as he waves up at us. 

“Let’s go.” I whisper, and grab my jacket.