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Dylan strolled over to an ornamental bridge, and I followed him across into the wilder part of the grounds. As we strolled along the path that weaved between various bushes and trees, my mind replayed the two conversations I’d had with Ghost Boy. The only rational explanation was that he was a ghost.

Except ghosts weren’t supposed to exist.

I snorted. What’s rational about that?

“Did you find your talk with Dr. Mills useful?” Dylan interrupted my thoughts. His tone was nonchalant, but I heard the anxiety behind his question.

“It was a relief,” I replied. “She told me what I’ve been experiencing is normal.”

Oh, if only she knew.

“Do you think you’ll be able to face looking around the school tomorrow?”

That was the last thing I wanted to do. I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good.”

We walked on a few paces, then Dylan stopped, standing in front of me. He perched his sunglasses on top of his head and gazed down at me, his brow furrowed and tense.

“Claire told me something,” he said, his expression grave. “She said you felt guilty about moving here to live with me. That you thought you were ruining my life.”

I flushed and stared down at my hands. I knew she’d told him. I’d heard her.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and ducked down so he was in my eyeline. I had no choice but to meet his searching gaze.

“Never think that, please, Emily.” His tone was fervent, and I was trapped by his hypnotic stare. “I meant what I said yesterday. I want you to live here with me. I’ll take care of you.” His eyes were the most extraordinary shade of blue, paler than mine, a clear crystal blue, and his expression was… tender.

The spell between us was broken when a few spots of rain spattered on my face, making me blink rapidly.

Suddenly, huge drops of rain fell on us. It was a downpour. Over the noise of the rain hammering on the leaves and the ground, we heard the squealing cries of the picnickers picking up their blankets, wanting to find refuge.

Dylan laughed, grabbed my hand, and ran toward a large oak tree, dragging me behind him. We took shelter beneath the canopy of leaves and watched the families scatter from the unrelenting rain. We were in it for mere seconds, but we were both soaked. Like a tropical storm, it was fast and furious, with huge heavy raindrops that quickly formed large puddles on the sunbaked ground around the tree.

Listening to the thrum of the rain, and watching the water stream down and over the leaves to pool on the ground, was spellbinding. As the smell of fresh water mingled with the scent of summer, and dust, and greenery and flowers, I recalled Claire’s words: Surrender yourself… And I knew what I wanted to do.

I wanted to be a part of this rain dance.

I glanced at Dylan, who turned his gaze on me. With an uncertain smile, I stepped out from under the oak tree’s protective green umbrella and raised my face and closed my eyes to meet the rain. I let the water splash and cascade over me. I opened my mouth to taste. Summer—blue, green, clean, dusty, happy, sad.

Pulling off my sodden sweatshirt, I stood firm as the downpour continued to soak me. It felt elemental, but also cleansing. The rain grounded me to the earth so that I could escape and be nothing but the sensation of water as it bounced and ran over my skin, and I forgot everything.

The rain stopped, as abruptly as it had started, and I opened my eyes. The sun had reappeared and in a moment was blazing down on us. Dylan was standing beside me, sodden. He’d been standing in the rain too.

“That was amazing!” I exclaimed, feeling refreshed and euphoric.

“That was wet,” Dylan grumbled, but he was smiling. “Come on. Let’s head home before we catch pneumonia.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

We wandered back toward the gates.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Emily. Always,” he replied.

“When your house was a squat, do you know if anyone died there?”

The moment I finished asking the question I felt foolish.