Right now, she was buzzing. Like, full-on electric. Jo had shown herself. For real this time. Not just a weird breeze or a window opening or the smell of lavender, but her, standing there, talking, hugging her. Real.
She didn’t think she’d felt this kind of rush before. Not even when she caught a wave next to a dolphin off Malibu last summer.
For half a second, Ocean thought about calling Ivy. She wanted to, super bad. But no. There was way too much riding on this. What if Jo didn’t like it? What if she vanished again?
And seriously, how would she even explain it?
Hey, there’s a ghost living in my grandma’s house, and she cried when she hugged me.
Yeah. Ivy would totally think she’d lost it. One hundred percent.
Ocean was relieved to see Jo waiting for her in the bedroom. She was reading one of the letters and put it down on the desk when Ocean walked in.
“Who was it?” she asked.
“A woman. An old one,” Ocean said, still catching her breath.
“What was she doing in there?”
“I have no idea.”
Jo had been the one to warn her. One second she was hugging Ocean, like, an actual hug, and the next, she was moving to the window, peering out and saying, “Call your mother. Someone’s in the barn.”
Ocean had no clue how Jo knew. Could she be in two places at once? Did she have ghost-hearing or something?
Oh my god. Ocean had a million questions.
She jumped onto her bed, sat cross-legged, and beamed at Jo.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for showing yourself to me.”
Jo gave her a crooked smile. “Don’t tell your mother. She’ll kill me.”
Ocean blinked. “Aren’t you already dead?”
“Yes. Dead, dead, dead,” Jo said dryly. “But I’ve known Skye a lot longer than you have. And trust me, sugar, she’d make my afterlife so miserable, I’d be ready to disappear forever.”
“I get that.” Ocean giggled, then leaned forward. “How long have you known my mom?”
“Since the day Clare brought her to this house and warned me not to show myself to her.”
Ocean thought about that. Skye had been adopted when she was ten. Ocean knew that part. But anything before? Total mystery. Like, a black hole level of silence. Her mom never talked about it. Ever.
Ocean remembered one time in third grade, when she had to make a family tree. She’d asked a simple question—like, barely a question—and everything had exploded. No yelling. Just…cold. Shut down. That was the day Ocean learned, don’t go digging.
Looking back, it was so obvious. Her mom didn’t just avoid the past. She'd erased it. No grandparents other than Clare. No baby pictures. No old stories. And definitely no dad. Just that same clipped line, every time: You can say Clare is my mother. That’s all they need. If someone at school has a problem with that, I’ll handle it.
Ocean glanced up now, heart ticking. “But you did show yourself to her.”
Jo gave a half-smile and shrugged. “I’m terrible at following rules. Even ghost ones.”
There was something weirdly young about Jo. Like she was way closer to Ocean’s age than her mom’s. It was in how she talked, how she moved, like she still remembered what it felt like to be fifteen.
Right now, Jo was perched on the edge of the bed like she totally belonged there, knees tucked primly, even though she was…you know. A ghost. Ocean sat cross-legged across from her so their faces were level, eye to eye.
“How old are you?” Ocean asked, half-expecting some cryptic, spirit-world answer.
Jo tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “Do you mean my real age? Or my ghost age, as in, Oh no, I’m so ancient my teeth are falling out and my skin’s about to peel off in strips?”
