of his expression when he caught me making out with Ty. I can only imagine how hurt he must be.
When I ask Iris what she remembered when I played the violin, she says, I used to play, too. My music meant so much to people. . . .
I feel a shifting inside me, as if everything I’ve ever believed about Iris and myself has suddenly changed shape. You played the violin? You were alive?
Yes. Her excitement bubbles up like soda water. But I don’t know when, or who I was.
I can’t process anything she says. My mind is stuck on one thought: Iris is a ghost? How is that possible? She seems like a part of me, not something separate—someone who once had a life. But how do I know how to play, too? I ask.
Not sure.
My head throbs from all I’ve learned today. I start up to my bedroom early, hoping Mom will follow my lead so I can sneak downstairs and watch the video. Maybe it will answer some questions. I try to coax Cookie to climb the stairs to the loft with me, but although he seems much more content, he’s still exhausted. After taking three steps up, he sits on the stair, unable to go any farther. Hefting him into my arms, I carry him the rest of the way.
Minutes later, after washing my face in the bathroom, I open the door and startle when I see my laptop computer open on my nightstand with the screen aglow.
“Iris?” I whisper.
I didn’t open it or turn it on before going into the bathroom, did I? Did she do it through me? Did I forget?
I don’t have an answer to that, but I know what she wants. I’ve been thinking of the same thing ever since Ty left.
Sitting on my bed, I search the internet for “Adam and Myla Winston. Winterhaven, Massachusetts” using several different combinations of their names and the town. I insert the word carpentry, thinking that Dad might’ve worked there, then artist after Mom’s name. Nothing comes up.
Setting the laptop aside, I lie on my back, pull Cookie into the crook of my arm, and stare at the ceiling. Ty’s theories spool through my mind. How can I even consider that anything he says might be true? My parents lived in Winterhaven and ran away to escape some threat? It’s a totally far-fetched idea . . . yet it would explain so much.
I think of the T-shirt and who might’ve worn it. Class of ’95.
Iris stirs, saying, It’s familiar.
Her statement lifts my focus to the wall beside the bed where my shadow looms, cast there by the lamplight. The sight of it takes me back to a memory I have from when I was four. Iris and I were playing here in my bedroom when Mom came upstairs.
Smiling, Mom asked, “What’s so funny, Lily? I heard you laughing. Who were you talking to? Is Cookie up here?”
“No,” I said. “I’m talking to my friend.” I pointed at the rug. “That little girl. See?”
“Ah,” Mom said. “Your shadow.” She winked. “The two of you are like paper dolls, stuck together at the feet. What did you tell the shadow girl that made you giggle?”
“She told me something.”
“Your shadow isn’t a person, Lily,” Mom explained. “It’s just your silhouette, an outline of you. The little girl is just an imaginary friend.”
“No, she’s real. She told me her name and it’s a flower name like mine. It’s Iris. Isn’t that pretty?”
Energy sputtered in the silence that followed, and I knew it was Iris tickling the hairs at the back of my neck. She was nervous because of the way Mom was staring at us.
“Adam! Would you come up here, please?” Mom called over the deck railing, and I heard something in her voice that made my heart kick my chest. My mother was upset, and I didn’t know why. What had I done?
Dad’s footsteps were loud on the stairs. “What’s going on?” he asked when he reached the landing.
Mom motioned toward me. “Lily’s been carrying on a conversation with her shadow,” she said in a hushed voice.
“So she has a pretend friend.” He shrugged. “She’s four. It’s perfectly healthy.”
Mom exhaled a jittery breath. “Tell him what the shadow girl told you, Lily,” she said.
“Don’t be mad!” I cried. “Iris is nice. She’s my real friend, not pretend.”
“Iris?” Dad’s chin jerked up. He shot Mom a look.
She nodded. “According to Lily, the girl said that’s her name.”