I waited, a lone witch. For weren’t witches almost always depicted alone? One solitary caped figure, pointy hat askew, flying high above the treetops. She might have a cat if she was lucky, or friends—other witches—but they met rarely, and only to exchange recipes or conduct a complex spell that required numbers. Witches did not have husbands. They didn’t get married off or sent on a happily-ever-after.

I heard gravel crunching, and a dark silhouette filled the space.

Someone in a black hooded sweater drew closer to me.

I stood, confused. The figure was too small to be Greg.

Then the figure lowered the hood, and in the fading daylight, I saw it was Ellen, Lily’s friend. Chunky eyeliner and metallic lipstick. Her wavy hair streaked with pink this time and piled atop her head.

“Ellen. You scared me.”

She surveyed me carefully. Tucked a small notebook in the front pocket of her sweater. “Meeting someone?” she asked bluntly.

“What? No. I was just—sitting here. Thinking.” I was stammering. “This time of year, you know. It just puts me in that kind of mood.”

Ellen’s eyes narrowed, as if she knew I’d lied. And Greg would probably be here at any moment to confirm it.

“I figured since Lily and Mr. Wallace were out of town that you might have plans or something.”

This girl didn’t miss a trick.

“Getting excited for Halloween?” I asked, changing the subject. “It’s all Lily can talk about.”

“It’s why I like to walk here at dusk,” Ellen said. “This is the time when the barrier to the spirit world is thinnest, and it’s always easier to cross closer to Halloween.” She shut her eyes, breathed deep. Then her eyes flew open. “We’re going to be Ghost Girls.”

I nodded encouragingly. “Lily told me.”

“Have you seen her bridge?”

I shook my head, but Ellen tugged my arm. “Come. I’ll show you.”

“I don’t really—”

“It’s not that far. It’s the perfect time to see it. If we’re lucky, we might even see her.”

I followed. I didn’t want Greg to show up and prove me a liar in front of her. He was late anyway. It would be his turn to wait.

And it wouldn’t hurt to know more about this friend of Lily’s and their obsession with this story. I didn’t believe in ghosts or spirit boundaries, but Ellen’s cold grip on my skin made me wonder.

Ellen moved fast, and I had to rush to keep up with her. The leaves were crisp and fragile, and they crushed in a satisfying way as we stepped, sending acorn shells scurrying around us.

The path wound around and down, deeper into the woods, ending at a fork. In front of us was a small wire fence and, beyond it, railroad tracks.