“No, don’t worry,” I said. “You stay. Schmooze up some votes.”

Megan stared at the road and tilted her head thoughtfully. “Do you think Elspeth—”

“Megan, no,” I said, trying to use the tightness of my voice to remind her that Kasey was in the backseat. “Seriously.”

“What?” she said, pausing at a stop sign. “There are ghosts everywhere. You know it as well as I do. And so does Kasey.”

“But we don’t have to be their friends!” I said. “Rule one: Don’t be friends with ghosts.”

“She was nice, though.”

“That’s what I thought.” Kasey’s weary voice came from the backseat. “About Sarah.”

Megan was stunned into silence, and I was, too. I’d never heard Kasey mention Sarah—the evil ghost who’d possessed her the previous October, thirteen years after murdering Megan’s mother.

“Thank you, Kasey. See?” I said. “Kasey thought Sarah was nice. And look where it landed her. You want to spend a year in a mental institution?”

I TURNED AWAY FROM the brightness of the muted television and rested my eyes on the ceiling. The glow from the screen made the whole room flicker like a rainbow campfire.

And then I heard it—

A footstep in the hall.

I froze. All my concentration shifted to listening for another sound. The flashing TV hovered on the outer fringes of my awareness. I felt like I was seeing, hearing, breathing out of my ears.

Another step.

I was on my feet and standing at the entrance to the hallway so quickly I felt a little light-headed. I balled my empty hand into a fist.

Kasey stood perfectly still in the middle of the hall, her body angled toward our parents’ bedroom door. Her long, old-fashioned Christmas nightgown hung to her ankles, still creased from being folded in its gift box for eight months.

I’d seen her like this once before—silent. Waiting. Plotting.

Against our parents, against me.

Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her hand.

“Kasey!” I said.

She jumped about a foot in the air and landed hunched over, clutching her chest.

“God, Alexis!” she hissed. “You scared the crap out of me!”

I didn’t move any closer. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Going to the bathroom,” she said. “What are you doing out of bed? It’s one o’clock.”

I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you’re playing security guard? You think I’m going to try to kill everyone?”

“No, of course not.” Although…hmm. Maybe that was what I was doing.

Kasey reached for our parents’ doorknob.

“Wait,” I said.

“I need to pee, Lexi,” she said. “Do you have to analyze every detail of everything I do?”

“I’m not trying to analyze you,” I said. “I’m trying to keep you from peeing on Mom and Dad’s carpet.” I pointed to the door on my right. “Bathroom.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Everything looks the same in this place.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

I went back to the couch, feeling virtuous for not pointing out that it was, after all, her fault that we’d had to move to Silver Sage Acres.

A minute later, Kasey drifted into the room and sat on the loveseat, her arms crossed in front of her. “Why’s the sound off?”

I shrugged. We stared at the silent infomercial.

As I started to nod off, Kasey spoke. “How about we skip school tomorrow?”

“I don’t really do that anymore,” I said. “Besides, everybody knows you never skip your first day.”

She curled her knees under herself. “Maybe I can catch chicken pox between now and eight o’clock.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, trying not to think of the bazillion things that could make it not fine. “I’ll help you.”

“I wish I hadn’t missed the first week. Everybody else knows each other, and I don’t even have my schedule yet.” She went pale—or maybe it was the blue light from the TV. “I don’t know where anything is.”

“Mom can take you a little early,” I said. “They’ll have somebody show you around, point out where all your classes are.”

Kasey clamped her mouth shut and gazed at me through her wide blue eyes. She seemed to be a tiny ball of a person—even her toes curled inward. “Lexi? Is there any way I could ride with…you?”

All weekend I’d been waiting for some bit of my little sister’s personality to work its way out from under her odd, fragile shell. And now, with that one question, she was being herself for the first time—her old, wheedling self. Mom and Dad used to call her “Slick,” and Dad always said Kasey could sell a broom to a vacuum salesman.

Even if it was her needy side that came back first, it was a glimpse of Kasey.

The real Kasey.

The first glimpse I’d seen in a really, really long time.

Megan didn’t even blink when she saw my sister standing beside me in the foyer the next morning. “Hi, guys. Ready to go?”

By the time we were all buckled up, Kasey looked liked a prisoner about to walk the green mile.

“There’s nothing wrong with being nervous,” Megan said, looking at her in the rearview. “You’ll be all right.”

“I’m not nervous,” Kasey said, but her voice wobbled, betraying her.

We had to maneuver a little to get her out of the backseat with her shortish, tightish denim skirt on. When she was safely on solid ground, no risk of flashing her underwear to the entire parking lot, I started walking toward the double doors with Megan.

After going about thirty feet, I got the distinct feeling that we weren’t being followed. Sure enough, Kasey was rooted in place by the car, gazing back out at the road like she might make a break for it.

“Um,” I said to Megan, “I think I’d better go with my sister.”

She shaded her eyes to look back. “Seems like it,” she said. “See you in Chem.”

I walked over to Kasey, who held her backpack in front of herself like a shield.

“Kasey,” I said, “you have to go inside. Otherwise it doesn’t count as going to school.”

“I changed my mind,” she said, her voice an octave higher than normal. “I don’t want to be here.”

“The good news is, nobody asked.” I gave her a gentle push.

As we walked toward the front office, I saw a bunch of people I knew. But Kasey didn’t seem to recognize any-one—not even the kids she’d gone to school with for years. Nobody acted like they knew her, either. Maybe her generation had shorter memories than mine. I blamed texting.

Kasey couldn’t stop gaping at the kids in their happy, animated groups. She gradually slowed to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

I raised my eyebrows and waited.

She took a breath and held it, her chest rising without a fall. “I don’t have a locker.”

“They’ll assign you one,” I said. “They’ll even give you a lock.”

“Near yours?”

“No. Near your classes.”

Kasey started gnawing on her fingernails. Why did she look so childish? She was fourteen—only two years younger than me.

“Listen.” I pulled her fingers out of her mouth. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll help you. I can show you where—”

“Stop acting like I’m a baby!” she said, yanking away from me.

People peered at us curiously. Kasey was pretty, maybe even beautiful, even with her hair in a hurried ponytail, and her denim skirt, Minnie Mouse T-shirt, and Converse tennis shoes.

I lowered my voice. “Kasey, it’s only high school. If I did it, you can do it.”

As if her shoes were made of lead, she pushed one forward, then the other, and we were walking again. When we got to the front office, I pointed at the registrar and leaned in to hug her.

She jerked back.

“Okay,” I said, stepping away. “Have a good day, then.”

“No, wait, I didn’t mean…” She flapped her arms helplessly. “At Harmony Valley, we weren’t allowed to touch each other.”

“Well, news flash, Toto,” I said, stinging from her rejection. “You’re not in Kansas anymore.”