I didn’t say a word. I had said all my words, maybe too many. I knew it wasn’t my turn anymore. So I just watched them stare at each other and wondered what had happened on that mountain. I didn’t think I’d ever know. I probably didn’t want to know.

“The thing is,” said Mom, “we have done the hardest thing we will ever do, haven’t we? What happened last summer—nothing else will ever be anything like that. So we know you were right. We can do anything, together. Anything at all.”

Dad nodded.

All this time Jasper had just been standing there, not saying a word. Watching the story unfold, like we were a play on a stage. Now I looked up at her and tried to make eye contact, but she didn’t seem to notice me. She was set on my mom. Her eyes almost seemed glazed over. I wondered what she was thinking. What she was seeing.

This is a family, I thought to myself.

This is people, not ghosts.

This is us, waking up, no matter what happens next. . . .

Since nobody was paying attention to me, I closed my eyes.

I crossed my fingers.

I held my breath and wished.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw that Mom and Dad had broken their gaze. Mom was glancing briefly around the room, as if taking it all in—the sunlight, the rumpled blankets, the water in its glass on the bedside table. But Dad was looking straight out into the doorway, at Jasper.

“Please?” I whispered one last time.

Dad coughed. “I wonder, Jasper—how do you like your eggs?”

But Mom pulled up her knees under the covers and patted the empty spot on the bed in front of her. “Come on in,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

“Really?” said Jasper as she stepped forward into the room. “What about?”

Mom nodded. “It seems we’re having a family meeting,” she said. “You should probably join us.”

Like Any Other Day

I was sprawled on the porch, elbows deep in pumpkin guts, when the screen door slammed and I looked up to see my mom, holding out two cans of fizzy water. “I thought you girls might like a cold drink,” she said. “Awfully warm for October. Doesn’t really feel like Halloween, does it?”

I shook my head and withdrew my hands, scooping out gobs of slimy seeds, and tossed the mess down with a splat on the newspapers spread around me. “Not even a little bit,” I grumbled.

Across from me, Jasper called out, “Thanks, Rachel! Can I have the lime?”

“No fair,” I said, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Lime’s my favorite.”