“Today works,” Grandma says. “We’d be happy to take a look and give you our professional opinion.”

Even if Shelly’s annoyed with her, it feels good to be included by Grandma in a we—to be given some respect instead of treated like she’s fragile or like she’s a baby. Still, going to one of her classmates’ homes to get rid of a ghost is weird.

Mrs. Lee offers them a ride and they get into her SUV, Shelly in the back with Isabel and Grandma up front with Isabel’s mom.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t do your presentation,” Isabel says. “It’s way more interesting than a teacher or a soccer player.”

Shelly shrugs. “People would’ve been weird about ghosts.”

“My grandma died,” Isabel says. “A couple years ago. It was really—it was sad, but I have a blanket she knit me, so I can remember her still. Do you have . . . did your mom give you anything?”

Shelly doesn’t want to think about remembering her mother. That would mean her mother isn’t coming back, and Shelly refuses to think that. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Sorry,” says Isabel, looking down at her lap. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t make me sad.” Shelly pushes down the ache in her chest that disagrees with what she said. Maybe the ghost in Isabel’s house is her grandma.

Mrs. Lee drives them to the older part of town, where the houses are all taller and skinnier with fancy windows and carved wooden borders along the roofs, and pulls up in front of a cheery red house. The paint job is new, but the house itself looks old.

“We’ve been living here for a few months,” she says. “The real estate agent didn’t say anything about it being haunted, but he didn’t say it wasn’t haunted either.”

“We’ll take a look,” Grandma promises. “If you’ve got a ghost problem, we’ll handle it.”

Mrs. Lee leads them to the door, Isabel and Shelly trailing behind the adults.

“My dad thinks my mom’s superstitious,” Isabel says, glancing at Shelly. “He said if she really needed to hire someone to take a look at the house to feel better, she could. I told her about what you said about you and your grandma hunting ghosts. One of her friends told us your grandma helped with her house, too.”

“Oh,” says Shelly, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “I didn’t think you believed me.”

Isabel shrugs and looks down at her feet. “I don’t know. If ghosts are real I think it could be cool. I think seeing them would be very cool.”

Shelly smiles to herself. Weird, she’s used to—cool is new.