Ebb clears his throat. I realize, in a sudden flash, how a Robert might come to be known as an Ebb. How ebb is what happens when the tide goes out.

“This is where I died,” Ebb says, looking everywhere but at me.

CHAPTER 17

“I used to use this place as my hideout, back when I was living. I called it ‘pirate’s cove.’ I loved to come down here and look for fish and shells and sea critters. That was eighty-seven years ago.…” His voice trails off for a moment.

“The afternoon I died, I’d caught this spider in a matchbox and named him Fred.” He nods to his shoulder, where Fred is now perched as if listening raptly to us.

“It was such a hot lazy day. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just lay down on that ledge over there to rest my eyes for a few minutes, enjoy the coolness of the cave.”

Ebb pauses a long time.

“I woke to cold water lapping all around me, the waves crashing in too fast and hard for me to escape. I screamed for my parents. I guess they were out in the yard above, because somehow they heard me. They tried to rescue me. But none of us made it out. Not even Fred.” He reaches for his shoulder, and strokes the spider gently.

“My parents, they moved Beyond right away. One minute we were all waking up as ghosts, looking at each other, trying to understand what had happened. The next moment”—he looks up and out of the cave—“they were surrounded by pink sparkling dust, and then they were gone. I was left behind, stuck here on earth. That’s how it is.”

I feel such sorrow for Ebb. To spend eternity tied to this lonely hole by the sea and a house that used to be his. I want to say something consoling or kind. But as usual, the words don’t come when I need them. Being quiet is a hard habit to break. When even your mom doesn’t want to hear about you, you learn that your feelings have nowhere to go but in.

“I used to fantasize that I could learn from your mom—to hunt the Time Witch. That maybe if I could hunt her, I could make her give my time with my parents back. But I’ve learned over the years—we ghosts hide from witches; we don’t fight them.” He hangs his head.

“Why do you think you didn’t go with them?” I ask.