We climb out the window on the first floor, and into the front yard. The grass here is a lot better than the grass in the backyard, which is tough and bristly and dry. Tessa gasps as we move closer to Jack, who smiles. 

“Hello.” he says, happily. 

“Y-you’re Jack Evans, aren’t you?” Tessa asks. He nods.

“I am. And you?”

“I-I’m Teresa Austin. You already have met my twin sister, Lara.” I wave. Tessa is still stuttering. She’s been studying paranormal activity since she heard her first ghost story, and now it’s all been proven true.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Jack says, tipping his old brown cap. Tessa shakes, her eyes wide. Jack turns to me. “Is your sister alright?”

“She’s just a little startled.” I explain, putting my hand on her shoulder. This seems to calm him down. Jack nods, and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Why is it so hot and dusty here? It never gets this hot, even in summer.” He says, fanning himself with his hat. “And where’s the lake?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in Turwood, right?” Tessa asks. 

“I was here just a few days ago. Except then, I had a popsicle. And there was a lake then.” Jack says.

“Jack, what year was it when you had that popsicle?”

“1910.” He says. I look at Tessa and sigh. 

“Jack, it’s 1963.” Tessa explains. “And you died that day. You were eaten by the Sugar Shark. You’re dead.”

“No. It’s 1910. I’m sure of it.” He says, looking around. “And I’m not dead.”

“Haven’t you noticed? None of the houses are the same. Nobody dresses the same.” Jack sighs and looks around. “Where is your house supposed to be?” Jack points up to the foothills of the mountain. “Let’s go see.” Jack takes my hand, and we walk up the road until we reach the path that leads up the mountain. 

We reach an old cabin, hidden in a grove of spruce trees. Jack leads us up to the door. “See, I told you it would be here, and it’s in perfect condit- What is this?” Jack points to a bronze plaque to the left of the door. He reads it. “Wait, why is it a historical site? My family’s not famous.” Jack pushes open the creaking door, and walks into the cabin, followed by Tessa and I. A sign in the center of the room has a few paragraphs on it about the Curse of the Evans Family. Jack reads over it, and looks at the photo of his brother’s sunken boat. 

“This can’t be true.” Jack says, reading. Apparently, after his death, and then his brother’s, his parents disappeared too, leaving Jack’s ten-year-old sister to go insane in the Turbrook orphanage. “It’s not true. It can’t be.”

I look out the window of the cabin, and spot a police car. “Tessa, we’ve got to leave.” I whisper. I don’t want to get caught again. Tessa moves to stand next to me. We glance back at Jack, still reading the sign and falling into deeper misery. We quickly slip out the door and down into the bushes. When the policeman is looking the other way, we run back down the path towards home. Luckily, we manage to make it back inside without Mom waking up. 

“Let’s not do that again. I don’t think Jack likes being dead, now that he knows about it.” Tessa says. “But he does seem to be a benevolent ghost, like you thought.” I nod and climb into the top bunk. Tessa stares out the window at the road. Jack’s back on the road, just sitting in the middle and staring at the cloudy night sky. He looks sad. I bury my face in my pillow, but I don’t use a blanket, because it’s too hot. Even now, in autumn, it’s still warmer than it should be. 

“Grab the bag of chips. Tessa, you get the towels.” Mom orders my twin and I, as she covers Emie and Kelsie’s faces in sunscreen. Soon, we all go out the door, and luckily, it’s a sunny day, or this pool party wouldn’t work. Miss Mortimer greets us and leads us to her backyard, where a turquoise pool glitters in the sunlight like a cut gem.

Miss Mortimer leads me over to a table piled high with bright red watermelon slices, ice-cold bottled sodas with drops of water on the outside, fragrant grilled chicken breasts, juicy frankfurters, and toasted buns, just how everyone likes them. I set the potato chips down on the linen tablecloth, and re-tie the sash on my dress, which covers up my new swimsuit I got near the end of the summer. I help Miss Mortimer set out paper cups and plates and napkins. 

“Could you get the ketchup and stuff from under the table? I put it there to keep it out of the heat.” Miss Mortimer says with a smile. 

Miss Everly Mortimer is very pretty, and is always getting bouquets of crinkled, late-bloomed roses from the few unmarried men her age. But she prefers to live here, tending her own gardens and caring for her mother, who has been in a wheelchair for years. Old Mrs. Mortimer only leaves the house to roll herself through the gardens every other Thursday. The rest of the time, she stays in the house. Her window faces away from the street, so I can’t see it from my bedroom window, sadly. 

Tessa says I spend too much of my time spying on the Mortimers. But how else am I supposed to know the exact time Miss Mortimer starts to cook bacon on Saturday mornings? 

I nod to Miss Mortimer, and crawl on my hands and knees under the tablecloth. It’s like a different world down here, the sun shining through the white and blue gingham linen. It’s like the blanket forts that Tessa and I built when we were small and sticky like Emie and Kelsie. I find the glass bottles of ketchup, mustard, relish, and a jar of chopped onions, looking like little white crystals. On my way out from under the table, I spot a thick, leather-bound book, like the kind that would hold fabulous stories of fairytales, with witches and fairies and excessively beautiful princesses. As I am thinking about it, a sudden image of Miss Mortimer in a shiny red-and-gold gown fit for a princess comes into my head. I smile, and carry the condiments out, and set them on the table. 

“What’s that book under the table for?” I ask, arranging the ketchup and mustard.

“It’s for a special surprise I have planned for later.” She says, putting on her fancy hostess apron. “I hear from your mother you like ghost stories?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I say, grinning. 

“Good.” She says, and straightens her flowered pink skirt. “You can go swim with your sisters now.” I smile, and tiptoe to the side of the pool, where Tessa swims. Kelsie and Emie sit in the shallows, splashing minuscule amounts of pool water at each other. I take off my dress and set it with Mom’s enormous bag of towels, then jump in the pool, hardly splashing at all. 

“Show-off.” Tessa says under her breath, then laughs. The next group of guests arrives, and my smile disappears. Do the mean older boys have to be here? They’ll hog the diving board, and bother us girls. And the worst one is Henry Dearing, who always pats my head whenever he sees me, pretending I’m a baby or something. He’s only a year older. 

Just as I suspected, Henry and his two older brothers crowd the diving board, and start splashing so much that there won’t be any water left in the pool. I scowl, biting the inside of my cheek, and watch the boys. Henry eventually realizes that we exist, and comes over to us. He pats my head, but smiles boyishly at Tessa. She’s always getting attention from the older boys, and for a few good reasons. 

Tessa and I are fraternal twins, so there’s bound to be a few differences between our appearances. Her hair is a nicer shade of blonde, her eyes are a perfect blue, and her skin doesn’t get freckles like mine. But the boys also like her because she’s smart and friendly, and doesn’t spy on people. She doesn’t get caught up in stories like I do. She deserves the attention.