“Guess we’re going to look for ghosts,” said Coco unhappily.
“It’s not my first choice either, Tiny,” said Brian.
Coco looked at him in surprise. At breakfast, Brian had seemed happy to go ghost hunting. “Ollie’s upset,” he added. “You noticed, right? Probably about your mom and her dad holding hands.” Brian said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was, to him. People all said hockey was Brian’s superpower, but Coco thought his superpower was noticing things. “And Ollie’s mom might be a ghost. Therefore—ghost hunting. We can’t just let her go looking for ghosts all upset and by herself.”
“No,” Coco agreed. “We can’t. But, I mean, we don’t know if her dad and my mom like each other.”
Brian gave her a skeptical look.
Coco bit her lip. She was afraid to believe it because she wanted it to be true so badly. She wanted to move into the Egg with her mom and live with Ollie and Ollie’s dad. She wanted Ollie to be her actual sister, not just her friend. But Ollie— “Ollie doesn’t want my mom,” said Coco sadly. “She wants her own mom back.”
“Obviously,” said Brian. “Wouldn’t you?”
Coco didn’t answer that. Instead she said, “It’s just that—I’m still not sure that ghost hunting is a good idea.” Suddenly Coco’s worries came pouring out in a rush. “Last night, on the road, I think I might have seen a ghost. Really. I saw someone in a blue ski jacket who vanished. And then . . .” Coco swallowed. “I saw the shadow of a person in the second-floor hall. But there wasn’t anyone there. Just the shadow. And Ollie had nightmares all night. She hasn’t said what about, but she looked scared when she woke up this morning. And the generators aren’t working. And we can’t leave until the storm stops. Maybe this place really is haunted. Brian, do you really want to meet another ghost? Be stuck here in a snowstorm with ghosts?”
Brian had stopped dead at the foot of the stairs. “Seriously?” said Brian. “You’ve been actually seeing ghosts? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t know what I was seeing! You didn’t believe me last night on the road. And this morning, we were kind of distracted by pancakes and a random guy showing up and our parents holding hands,” retorted Coco.
“Yeah,” said Brian. “Sorry about last night. I did kind of think you were dreaming.”
“And now?” said Coco.
“I believe you,” said Brian. He paused, thinking. “The three of us clearly need to talk ASAP.”
“Yeah,” said Coco. “And we need to stick together. Like always, right? We’ll stick together, and we’ll be fine.”
Brian grinned. “As always, Tiny,” he said, making Coco want to smile and stomp on his foot at the same time.
“Don’t call me Tiny,” she said for about the thousandth time. “We’d better go find Ollie.”
They started up the stairs. But with his foot on the second step, Brian paused, frowning, and turned back. “Wasn’t the bear on its hind legs before?” he asked.
Coco turned. The stuffed bear was on all fours, its head twisted back over its shoulder, like it was looking at them. She frowned. “I think it was,” she said. “I can’t really remember now.”
“Never mind,” said Brian. They got to the top of the stairs. The hallway was shadowy. The wall lamps were off. There was only the light coming from the windows on each end. Coco couldn’t see Ollie. She must already be in their room.
Halfway down the hall, Brian slowed. Stopped. “Tiny,” he said, “do you—hear something?”
Coco stopped, listened.
“No—” she began.
“Listen,” said Brian.
And then she heard it. A very soft rattle.
“Maybe it’s Ollie,” said Coco, but she realized she was whispering.
“Maybe—” said Brian, and then there was a bang, right next to them, like someone had slammed a fist against the wall. They both jumped.
Now all was silent. They listened. Nothing. “Where’d it come from?” Coco asked, hearing her voice go thin with anxiety.
“I don’t know—” Brian began.
Another rattle. Coco turned.
“There?” asked Brian. He pointed. To their right was a door labeled UTILITY CLOSET.