THE MYSTERY

Polly

“There’s some mistake,” said the ghost, scrambling to her feet and taking off again towards the cemetery gates. “I’m not a ghost.”

I ran after her, watching my feet a little more carefully this time. She was out of the cemetery and off down the street by the time I caught up. “You do kind of look like a ghost,” I panted. She was walking quickly now, casting glances over her shoulder every once in a while and muttering something to herself.

“And it’s a bit of a strange coincidence, don’t you think?” I went on. “Finding a grave with your exact name on it?”

Then she turned on me.

“I’m not … I’m not!” she said. “I’m alive. I’ll prove it to you.”

She was nearly crying. I felt so bad for her. Imagine, suddenly discovering that you’re dead!

“How?” I asked.

Rose

“I don’t know. But it has to be a mistake!” I repeated. “She could be a relative or from another branch of the family.”

“What I wonder,” said Polly thoughtfully, “is why aren’t you buried in the mausoleum with all the other McPhersons? Why is your grave all by itself, shoved in a corner?”

I stared at her, remembering the brief vision I’d had before I fainted. The bridge. The fall. The thud.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No!”

I started running again, but Polly grabbed my cloak and held me back.

“Rose,” she said. “Just stop.” Her face was full of concern.

“It’s not true,” I whispered.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not dead. Let’s find out, together. I’ll help you.”

For a moment I was tempted, but something in her eagerness made me suspicious. I broke free of her grasp.

“Leave me alone. You’re still playing your stupid ghost game. If you only knew how horrible it really is to see ghosts, you wouldn’t be so silly about it.”

That’s when she surprised me. Instead of snapping back at me her face lit up with a grin.

“I am silly, I know. I’ve just always had this thing about ghosts. But this is a real mystery, and it would be fun to find out what’s going on. Don’t you think?”

I stared at her. Fun?

“But what if it’s true?” I croaked. “What if I really am a ghost?”

She put her arm through mine and started dragging me down the street.

“If you are, it’s not so bad, is it?”

The wind was picking up now, whistling through the trees in the cemetery. The bare trees loomed over the street, forming an archway. Lights were coming on in houses and I could smell wood smoke from a fire. I felt the warmth from Polly’s arm through my coat. She skipped a bit as she hurried me along, almost bouncing.

“No,” I said slowly. “It’s not so bad.”