Olive had seen plenty of lady’s slippers but never a ghost. She’d come at night, setting her alarm for one a.m. and keeping the clock under her pillow so her dad wouldn’t hear it. He was a heavy sleeper and was always sound asleep by midnight. She’d come on full moons and sat by the edge of the bog, begging Hattie to show herself, begging her to leave a clue about where the treasure might be. But the only figures who ever materialized there in the bog were very much alive: hunters and hikers sometimes; but at night, it was older kids who’d come out on dares to get high, fool around, drink beer, and piss on the old foundation of Hattie’s house, daring her to come forward.

“Come on and show yourself, witch!” a boy hollered once while Olive watched from her hiding spot behind a big tree. Olive held her breath, wished Hattie would come forward, scare the crap out of the kid and teach him a lesson. No such luck.

“Careful, she’ll put a curse on you,” the girl who was with him squealed.

The boy laughed, cracked open another can of beer. “Let her try. She ain’t nothing but a pile of bones sunk down at the bottom of the bog.”

Olive picked up a rock then and threw it deep into the center of the bog, where it landed with a huge splash.

The girl screamed.

“The fuck?” the boy said.

“Let’s get outta here,” the girl said in a trembling voice, and the boy didn’t argue.

Olive waited for them to go, then cleaned up the crushed beer cans they’d left behind—it didn’t seem right to leave them there. It seemed…disrespectful.

“Mike?” she said now.

“Yeah?” He looked hopeful. Expectant. It made her cringe a little, deep down inside, when he looked at her this way. When all she ever seemed to do lately was hurt his feelings and disappoint him.

“You don’t believe the treasure exists, do you?”

“I—”

“Ya gotta tell the truth. I’ll know if you’re lying.” She would, too. His left eyebrow always went up a little when he was lying. It was a funny thing, but she noticed it every time. It helped her beat the crap out of him whenever they played poker for pennies in Mike’s old tree house. He also got all sweaty when he was even a little bit nervous, his ears got red when he was mad, and he chewed his top lip when something was worrying him.

“It’s not that I don’t believe,” he said.

“Well, what is it then?”

“I think the treasure might exist. I mean, it’s definitely possible. But I’m just not sure that anyone should go digging it up.”

“Why not?”