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“You’re being rude.”

“He’s—” He jerked a hand in Benji’s direction. “He’s not a normal ghost.”

“I’m not?” Benji’s voice came out shaking, frail. Like a child’s.

“He’s eight years old. He’s a child.”

“He’s a—” Noah’s mouth clamped shut. He wiped a hand over his face, muttering under his breath before he cleared his throat. “Hi. I’m Noah.”

Benji leaned forward to inspect Noah’s hand from all angles before he slowly, hesitatingly, put his own little one in it for a handshake. As he did, Benji’s color grew more normal while Noah’s lost some of his color. Gasping as if he was burned, Noah jumped backward. “You can’t do that.”

Benji was biting down on his bottom lip, still studying Noah intensely. “You’re not a normal ghost either.”

“I’m more normal than you,” he shot back.

“Noah!” I snapped.

Noah rolled his eyes at me, but huffed at Benji. “I don’t suction off other ghosts. That’s not nice.”

Benji’s eyes got so big and he wavered on his feet. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s rude.” Noah stepped behind me. “I’m not going in there with you. You,” he barked at Benji. “Stay away from me. You take any more energy from me and you won’t be unalived on this plane for long. Do you hear me?”

Benji’s eyebrows pinched down. He seemed more confused than scared. “I could drain all of your energy right now.” He seemed to be considering it.

Noah growled, glared at me, and poofed away.

Benji’s shoulders dramatically lowered. “I didn’t like him. He’s not a normal ghost either.”

“I know. You said that already.”

“He’s a mean ghost.”

“There are some like that.” I felt a headache coming and rubbed at my forehead. I gestured to the house, at this point not caring if anyone saw me talking to myself. Half my grandparents’ neighbors were elderly. Most were blind. Others couldn’t hear or walk to their windows to even see outside. A few still managed to run a walking club, but they weren’t in the surrounding houses. “What am I walking into in there?”

Benji glanced over his shoulder, seeming to shrink in size.

My stomach dropped.

“They got rid of your stuff.”

His words took a minute before they comprehended.

“I—what?” My voice came out strangled. An emptiness sat behind my sternum, opening wider and wider.

“You didn’t show up all weekend. They didn’t think you were coming back. They invited people from their church to come and get your stuff. They sold some of it. Donated other items.” He motioned across the road. “Hilly Vegabills has some of your stuff. She’s going to give it to her granddaughter when she visits on Thanksgiving.”

“There’s nothing left?” My clothes. A few books. I had an e-reader I left behind. I had my license, but it wasn’t like I had a car to use it for. “What about my social security card? Birth certificate?”

“I don’t know what those are.”

He wouldn’t. He died in the early 1600s.

I knew this was going to happen. I just didn’t know it was going to happen today.

I murmured, “I thought I still had a week.”

He moved closer. His translucent hand lay on top of mine. I sucked in my breath because I could feel his touch. My skin crawled underneath his touch, but I fought against letting him sense the revulsion. Benji wasn’t bad. He wasn’t evil. He, just, had the capability to be. He was a little boy still in his heart, even though he was terrifyingly powerful. When he kicked his red ball around, it would show up in the house. It could be heard too. His footsteps as he ran after the ball, his giggles. The sound of the ball when it would fall down the stairs.