I unzipped my duffel, pulled out my toiletry bag, and walked the path to the bathroom to prepare for bed. When I was heading back, the ghost had reappeared on the green. She leapt, she spun. I averted my eyes. Heard Terry saying, I hope you aren’t afraid of ghosts. My pace quickened as I approached my cabin. I shut the door fast and hard behind me.

I undressed and stepped into my pajamas, pulled the covers back and climbed in. My face touched the pillow.

Musty sleeping bag on a concrete foundation. My mother tucking me in.

Framed rooms, but no roof. Stars overhead. Dying eucalyptus trees, towering above.

A hint of smoke wafted from the firepit below as my mother leaned over me. She pressed her soft lips against my forehead.

“It’s like camping,” she whispered, zipping the bag to my chin. “Sweet dreams.”

She stood. She turned. She left me alone in that strange, cold place.

But no, no—I was in my cabin. Its walls and roof. Desk and duvet. Fire burning to keep me warm.

I covered my pounding heart with my hand.

“This is my home,” I said to myself.

I found my way back—to the soft pillow under my cheek, to the glow of the moon through the skylight, to the steadiness of my breath.

“This is my home,” I whispered as I shut my eyes. “All the rest is over.”

the schoolhouse

IN THE MORNING I OPENED THE CURTAINS to fog so thick and low on the grass that I couldn’t see the house beyond it. With the fire out, my cabin was cold, no trace left of last night’s warmth.

I put on my sweater to head to the bathroom. I hadn’t considered the possibility of running into anyone, but here were the other interns, headed right toward me.

Liz and Billy. Her, with short dreads and dark skin and a nose ring, smiling at me. Him, lanky and fair in a jean jacket and carefully slicked hair, as though he had sprung to life from a James Dean poster.

“You must be Mila,” Liz said as they drew near. She wore only a towel beneath her jacket.

“Yes,” I said, thinking of my tangled hair and sour breath. I thought they would stay to talk but they blew past me. Billy turned and walked backward a few steps. “See you at breakfast,” he said, and we went on in our separate directions. Had they showered together? I wondered. Or had they met on the path, coincidentally, as we just had? I would check the mirror in my room before leaving next time. I wished for my own bathroom. Scolded myself for my ingratitude.