Page 44 of All Her Ghosts

I became a mother.

Cold in my hollow rib cage, ocean foaming, I type in “ghost war.”

I expect the usual propaganda. The tight-lipped government line about unnamed terrorist groups, a large bomb of unknown make and origin, the lasting effects of a new type of radiation still being studied. I expect the empty reassurance that the fallout is no longer harmful to the living, the usual ghost-safety reminders and advertisements for ghost salts and spiritual saline sprays.

But the screen goes white with an error message, repeatedly. Nomatter which search engine I use or browser I download:This website has been blocked. Contact administrator.

Mom put onchild locks.

I grind my teeth so hard they squeak. This absence is evidence; it has to be. I’m sure of it now. There’s a devastating truth hiding in the missing spaces, the places I’m not allowed to look, and the questions I never get answered.

I don’t know what to do. I could break into her office again—force my way inside, this time in my flesh—but would that even help? If I smashed open all her locks, what would I find but more questions? More experiments I can’t make sense of, more weapons built to hurt things like me?

I don’t see a solution here but to leave. If I can’t win, I can at least stop playing.

As if summoned, my phone vibrates. I flick open the message.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel,Bas texts.

I frown, type back,???

Which window does the hair come out of?

Oh.Ohno.

Scrambling out from under the bed, I lurch to the window. The sunset stripes the grass in deep shadows and strips of flame, building monsters in the silhouette of a lone tree, a rusty swing set.

But only one of those monsters holds a tiny, glowing cellphone screen.

It’s barely 7,I scrabble out as fast as I can.Mom’s still up! She’ll see you from the kitchen!!

U promised,he texts back, sends me emojis of two autumn leaves and a red demon mask.

What?

Leaf devil?I mouth to myself.Fall demon?

Confused, I blink at the laughing little red face with tusks—not the usual purple smiley with horns—until I realize he picked the Japanese demon on purpose.

Japanese demons are calledoni.He meant fall, oni.

Felony.

Despite the tightness in my chest, I laugh. I shake my head at his terrible joke, though I know he probably can’t see it from where he crouches behind the fronds of a massive ornamental grass, and in that moment I’m so,soblindingly grateful.

He came. I asked him for help with something terrible, something dangerous on a whim and a bad idea, and hecame.

I type,My mom won’t go to bed until MAYBE 10. You’re too early.

Immediately, my phone rings,Big Mouthflashing on the screen. I answer it quick before my mom hears. “If she catches me talking to—”

“I don’t want to scare you,” Bas interrupts. “But, uh, we should gonow. That RV in the driveway work?”

Every thought in my head scatters like startled birds, leaving me empty and echoing with a warning cry.

“What? Yeah, of course.” I try to laugh but it comes out dry and wheezing. Try to catch his eyes across the darkened yard but can’t make out more than the crescent moon of his cellphone screen pressed against his cheek. “How did you know I meant grand theft auto and flee across state lines?”

“I didn’t. We shouldn’t talk about this on the phone. Just—you trust me?”