I’m high already. The person burying that body has blurred into the fog, and the shovels of dirt look more like dust. The ghost is disappearing piece by piece. The dead world is vanishing, the real world brightening, birdsong traveling farther under the canopy, the orange-pink sky like a delicious sorbet above.

Fiona pulls a pair of climbing gloves from her backpack. “If you all will excuse me, there’s a giant tree over there begging me to climb it.”

“You are not about to climb a tree,” Allister says, laughing.

She steps off the gazebo with a coy smile, eyes slightly red and half-closed. “Feel free to join me.”

“I’m good.”

“Please be careful,” I say as she runs off into the trees.

I’m really glad to have a moment alone with Allister. I feel like I can trust him.

“If I told you something crazy, would you judge me?” I ask.

“Depends how crazy,” he says.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Absolutely.” He looks at me. “Can you see them?”

I’m silent. That’s his answer. I might have denied it, but I’m taken aback by how fast he got there.

He smiles. “That’s awesome. Wish I could do that.”

“Um . . . it’s not always awesome. It’s usually pretty scary.”

“So that’s why you’re so quiet? You’re distracted by the dead.”

“I . . . I guess so. Among other reasons, probably. I don’t know why I’m so quiet, exactly.”

Not everyone thinks I’m crazy, even if my family does. There’s a wave of relief coming over me. I’ve never heard it taken so seriously except with Ms. Josette and my online medium community. Growing up, I always had to explain myself and beg people to believe me, so I stopped telling people at all.

“What’s going on?” Allister asks. “Why do you look so troubled?”

“My neighbor was killed two and a half weeks ago.” I’m unable to stop myself. “Matteo Mooney. It’s been on my mind a lot because everyone thinks it’s a serial killer, but it’s a ghost that took him. A vengeful one who wants to kill more people. And I’ve done what I can to get rid of him, but I keep thinking it’s not over . . . He’s still out there, and he’s planning to attack me again. I don’t know. I know it sounds crazy.”

His face is genuinely somber. He can feel the fear too. “It doesn’t sound crazy. Sounds scary, though. Any leads on who it could be?”

I hesitate. It feels wrong to say his name. Like it’s cursed. And I’m afraid Allister will shun me like Benji did.

“It’s okay, Jake,” he says. “You can tell me.”

“S-S-S—” I stutter on the sound of it. “Sawyer Doon. From the Heritage High shooting.” It deflates from my mouth sooner than I’m ready.