“Well, no rest for the weary,” Gerald says, after giving us another strange look. He then walks across the lawn to his truck to get his supplies, as the last of the ghosts but Ebb trickle into the woods beyond him. We let out the breaths we’ve been holding.

“Well,” Germ says, eyeing Gerald but turning to me. She has circles under her eyes. “I better get home. My mom wanted me there by seven. And maybe she will believe me, about everything. Maybe she can help.”

I look at her, feeling guilty suddenly—all the night’s seemingly impossible events catching up to me.

“Germ” I say, “I don’t know how you can see. But the witches… all of this is my problem. I don’t want you to be in danger too.”

“It’s our problem,” Germ says. “I feel like I caught the sight from you somehow, and I’m happy I did.” She frowns. “But, Rosie, I want you to be safe. I think you should really think about running like Ebb and Homer say.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say slowly, looking to Ebb, who watches us silently. It hurts a little, because I can’t imagine ever leaving Germ, and I wonder how she can encourage me to leave.

She gives me a quick wave and gets on one of the rusty old bikes that we share, by the shed. As soon as she’s gone, things feel emptier and scarier.

“Well, I’ll be back tonight,” Ebb says.

I turn to him. “From now on, maybe you could give me some privacy,” I say. “I really appreciate all your help, but would you mind just… staying outside the house from now on? I mean, you’re a boy, for one thing. It’s sort of…”

Ebb’s mouth drops closed, then straightens into a thin, embarrassed line. His glow dims a little. He nods. Then he turns and drifts across the grass without another word. A moment later, as the sun rises above the lip of the sea, he vanishes completely.

Inside, I climb the stairs and look in on my mom, who’s asleep.

She is peaceful in her bed, despite the wild night that’s passed.

When she wakes, I’ll show her the book and see if she can remember. But in my heart of hearts, I think that she’ll wake and look at me with foggy eyes and try her hardest to remember things, and fail, like she always does. She’ll go about her day as if I’m not here. She’ll sit and look out at the sea.