I look up at the pink hazy sky.

“Why would you want to go up there anyway?” I ask. It does look beautiful, but also mysterious, strange, unknowable.

Homer comes to a stop for a moment, considering.

“Why there, my dear, is moving on. It’s where we’re all meant to go. Eventually. And until then, we wait. Some ghosts get to move on right away.” He nods to the sky again. “And others don’t. A lot of us just can’t let the past go, and some of us—I think—have unfinished business of some sort. Something we need to wrap up, or fix, before we depart this earth. That’s my theory anyway. Nobody ever tells us.”

“What’s your unfinished business?” Germ asks.

Homer shrugs. “Me? Could be to avenge myself against the squid who drowned me,” he says pensively, “but I just don’t know. I wish I did. It’s dreadful to be stuck.” He casts another glance around at the woods, then moves on.

At the far end of the hollow is an enormous crypt, and we make our way in that direction as Homer chatters on—clearly on edge, but also kind. He has a gentle, thoughtful air about him as he talks. Already, I like him much more than I like Ebb, who toggles from melancholy, to friendly, to angry and annoyed so fast that I can’t make him out. Right now he’s kicking at stones sullenly, his foot passing through them.

“Still,” Homer continues, “once you die and become a ghost, you start believing the impossible… because you yourself are impossible. And that’s comforting in its way.”

He points to a tattoo on his biceps, the one of the giant squid. “Got this long before I died. Kind of ironic, considering what killed me, but still glad I have it. Reminds me to always stay present. I found out about meditating after I died. Helps a lot. Ghosts aren’t usually good at being present, considering we are actually shadows of the past.” He looks around, bemused.

“I cope with it all by staying nosy. I know way too much about every living and dead person within five miles of Seaport, plus local history, all the sports teams within fifty miles, and of course, you and your mom.” He points to his head. “I’m a stickler for gossip, is what it boils down to. That’s why Ebb’s brought you to me. I know all about your mom. Then again, everybody knows something about your mom. And now we all know what kind of danger you’re in.”

We’ve come to a stop at the edge of the crypt, which has the words “Homer Honeycutt, captain of the Mary Sue. Sunken on the rocks of Cape Horn and devoured by a squid, 1886.”

“Well, this is home, such as it is.”