Once I had eaten my fill and was headed back, a light shone through the thickening fog. A leap and a spin. The dancing ghost, still yards away but closer to me than she’d ever been. I stopped to watch her—we were miracles, all of us—but her light hurt my eyes and I had to turn away. Another figure, not glowing, leaned against the wall of the second cabin.

“Hey, Mila,” he said as I neared him.

“Hey, Billy,” I said, amazed by the clear lightness of my voice.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“All right.”

I lifted my hand as a gesture of departure, and he nodded and went inside. I walked straight to the bathroom to prepare for bed and then, finally, to my cabin door.

As soon as I let myself in, my exhilaration left me. In its place came an ache—from my hip to my ribs to my shoulder—an ache I remembered from sleeping on the hard floor of Blake’s house. I felt a sting on my foot. Touched it and felt wetness between my fingers. Saw a half-moon of blood in the spot where Blake’s shell had sliced me.

I went through the motions of building the fire. I pressed a tissue against my cut to blot the blood. I climbed, shivering, into bed. I rubbed my sore hip. I rubbed my shoulder. I closed my eyes and saw Blake. Wondered, again, whether his ghost had followed me here.

I searched for something of comfort, but not even the moon was visible through the skylight, so thick was the fog. Tears dampened my pillow.

I wished Grammy was there to sing to me, to rub my back in circles like she used to.

“There’s a somebody I’m longing to see,” I sang to myself instead.

I remembered every word.

I sang until the song was over, and then I sang it again.

celebration

A KNOCK AT MY DOOR WOKE ME. It was morning, and as I eased myself out of bed I was surprised that the ache in my side remained even in daylight. I checked my foot—a dried speck of blood but nothing more. I didn’t know what to make of it—didn’t know what to feel.

Before unlatching and opening the door, I glanced at myself in the mirror and smoothed my hair, relieved to find I still looked like myself.

Lee was on my doorstep, smiling, a breakfast tray in his hand.

“Happy birthday!” he said. “You’re a whole decade older than me now.”

“And you’ve brought me breakfast in bed?”