But I can’t see her tonight. Maybe because she isn’t there and never was. Or maybe because the fog’s too thick. Either way, my mother is hidden from me. Lost to years and memory. The same as she’s always been.

Even if she doesn’t roam the grounds of Whisper Cove at night, I figure that makes her a ghost. So I guess I believe, after all.

ACT II: SCENE 2

I push open the cabin door as quietly as I can and tiptoe inside. I change into a clean T-shirt and shorts, and when I pull my damp tank top off over my head, the smell of horses floods my nose again.

Nobody stirs when I slip into my bed. Just like I imagine nobody stirred when I slipped out of it.

My head feels fuzzy. Like it’s full of cotton. My arms and legs are heavy, and my body aches from the cold. I’m so empty. All I want in the world is to sleep, but it seems like the minute I close my eyes, my alarm is going off.

The first things I see when I wake up are Cole’s little treasures, those bits of red and yellow sea glass, resting on my pillow.

So I know it all really happened, even if my mind is trying to make it into a dream now.

The cabin is empty, and I figure the others must already be in the bathroom. I force myself out of bed and dig around in the bottom drawer for something to wear, then slip on my flip-flops and grab a towel. Hopefully I have time for a quick shower.

The sky is a beautiful, clear blue, and the air feels so perfect. But none of that does much to ease my mind. Not when there’s still sand clinging to my body from last night. All I can think about is washing away that proof. Because if I can rinse off the sand, maybe I can rinse off the memory of waking up knee-deep in ice-cold water.

It doesn’t work, though. I watch the sand swirl down the drain. But the terror still sticks to me.

I hurry back to the cabin after my shower. I’m running late now. Everyone else must already be at breakfast. But I still pause to stare at that sea glass on my pillow for a few seconds. Then I reach for the two shiny charms and slip them into my pocket.

I’m still not sure they’re magic. But I like the way they feel between my fingers. The cool smoothness of them calms me a little.

I start across the field toward the farmhouse. Cole is waiting for me on the front porch. He’s leaning against one of the support posts, and his posture is so casual. But there’s a fire burning in his eyes.