Kennedy opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She tilted her head to the side and asked, “Are you serious? Because I was just messing around about the whole ghost-touching thing.” She laughed once. “I don’t actually believe in ghosts.”

“Well, I do,” I said.

“Okay,” Kennedy said. “And you think the ghost is Colette?”

I wiped away the tears that kept falling even though I was angrier than sad. “I don’t know!” I said forcefully. “I know that sounds crazy, which is why I said it could also be that I’m losing my mind!”

Kennedy looked down at my sketchbook, which made me look down, too. I realized I’d been tearing the top page into paper crumbs, some now resting on my lap, some in piles on the wooden porch slats beneath my chair.

“She’s who you’ve been dreaming about?” Kennedy asked, softer, probably pitying me.

Pathetic!

I said yes and continued to rip. Better the paper than my skin.

“And you think she’s who touched your head?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” I sighed, eyes on the paper. “We were in a ghost town.” I looked back up at my cousin. “But today at the rec center, something else happened. I went up to the third floor, and it was really hot at first, then the temperature dropped. Like, a lot. And it felt like someone was there.”

“For real?” Kennedy asked.

“Yes, and then I took a shower and there was a message in the steam on the shower door.”

Kennedy’s eyes widened. “What, like someone wrote in the steam?”

“Yes!” I said. “While I was in the shower!”

She twisted her lips in concentration. “You mean it appeared when the glass got all steamy?” she asked. I nodded. “But you didn’t see anyone?” I told her I hadn’t. Kennedy twisted one of the bracelets on her wrist, then said, “’Cause that’s a known prank, right? You can do that with rubbing alcohol. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” I said quickly.

Mean Me discounted it. You are such a colossal liar. You did not know that!

“Probably someone was pranking you or pranking someone else, and you saw it on accident,” Kennedy said. “It is a wicked awesome classic prank.”

“Except the message was for me,” I said quietly.

“Did it say Tess?” Kennedy asked, starting to rock again, which made me think she was losing interest in the conversation.

“It said Help me,” I said, pausing. “And then it said Find Billy.”

“Like all one thing? Help me find Billy? Or help me . . . find Billy.”

I thought about it. There wasn’t a comma, but the statements were on two lines.

“The second one,” I said, guessing.

“Who’s Billy?”