Mom was suspicious about the cemetery being part of a school project. She asked a lot of questions about why the school had us writing about dead people. I told her it was beneficial for history or something. After a series of questions and strange glances, she agreed to bring me.

I stepped out of the back seat of our rust-red beetle and a cool breeze swished the leaves across the cobbled parking lot.

A shiver ran up my spine. It was quiet, aside from the whooshing wind. No one was here besides Mom and me.

I grasped my disposable camera, and we stepped through the stone archway. We separated, and I pretended to take notes in my journal.

It looked like a sea of graves on the uneven hills. Many were old, covered in green and gray grime, but some were brand new. Small mounds were piled up where fresh bodies had just been laid.

I imagined being dead, wondering where my body was placed. Losing all my memories and not knowing who I was... How sad.

I had to squint to read through the moss and dirt covered tombstones. Any time I saw an M, I leaned in to be sure.

Caw!

I jerked my head to the left, where a crow sat on top of a tombstone, then spread its wings and flew into the fog.

Cobbles crunched under each step to the tombstone the raven flew off of. I could make out some letters behind the grime. Scratching away at the stone, it revealed Morrigan Halloway. “There it is,” I whispered.

“Hm?” Mom asked nearby, and I nearly jumped out of my socks.

“Oh,” I said on a breath. “I thought I’d found what I was looking for.” I shook my head and turned away.

Morrigan’s parents were buried next to her, and an old, gnarled tree hung over them, its roots lifted out of the ground, and curled around the base of her mom’s grave, covering the tombstone as if it could pull it straight into the ground.

I snapped a photo and cranked the next one ready with my thumb.

Morrigan’s tombstone read RIP, but she wasn’t resting in peace.

I lifted the camera to my eye and snapped a few more pictures. Her stone, the gazebo, plants in the area, anything that might jog her memory.

A jolt of joy ran through me. With all this snooping, I was starting to feel like myself again. Where would it go next? Before leaving, I copied the contents of her tombstone into my journal.

***

That night, I went straight to my room to talk to Morrigan. “I found it! I found you!” I whispered, dancing around my room.

She danced with me, her spectral form twisting, lifting the pages of my journal, her steps silent as if she didn’t even exist. Just because she wasn’t alive anymore didn’t mean she didn’t exist. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself again,” I confessed. “I really like helping you with this.”

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“What did you find?”

“I found you and your parents at the cemetery. The photos aren’t developed yet, but there was this…tree.” I bit my lip. “It wrapped around your mom’s stone, pulling it in.”

She looked sick, if that were possible for a ghost.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t know how we could have been so secretive that no one knew us. You and I seem to be the only ones who really want to know what happened that night.”

I stared at the floor and nodded. Had anyone done anything to figure it out, or were they trying to keep a secret like Lila had said?

“Well, there’s bound to be people around who knew you, or paperwork or something.”

“Really?” She smiled and her form thickened. “When can we get the pictures developed?” She asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve already been putting Mom on edge with this stuff.”

Her form flickered, and we were quiet for a while.

“I’ll do it as soon as I can.” I reached out to touch her spectral arm. My hand went right through, and cold wrapped around it.

She closed her eyes like she might cry.

“I’m sorry.” I felt so bad for her.

“It’s not that. I was just remembering something. It’s a place I called the Wastes.” She shook her head. “It’s so cold, dark, and dusty. It’s where I was when you called out.”

“You heard me from another realm? I just assumed you were around all the time.”

“From this place, we heard your voice, and others rushed to you, but I was faster. I had to get out of there. I didn’t know who I was, where I was, where my parents were, nothing.

“Every day I watched as my hands and arms faded. And there were these sounds…animal-like maybe, but absolutely terrifying, and always growing closer. All I knew was I had to get out fast and figure out who I was before I disappeared.

“I can’t go back there. I have to know who I am so that I never have to go back.” Her eyes grew desperate. “Please don’t ever let me go back.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. It sounded awful. Was that where all the spirits went, or just the ones who forgot their lives? It was definitely not a place I’d ever want to go.

“It’s been so nice of you to help me,” Morrigan said. “I want to give you something. You know, just so you’ll remember me when I go.”

I felt a pit in my stomach, thinking about being alone all day in my room again.

“Do you have something?” I asked, not having seen her pick up anything.

She handed me a locket that only appeared in physical form as she took it off her neck. I pressed it open, revealing a lump of grapes and a moon carved inside.

“What’s this?” I asked.

Morrigan shrugged. “It was mine, but I don’t know what it is.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to keep it?”

She smiled and nodded. “I want you to have it.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you. I should give you something.“

She smiled. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I think it’s a really sweet thing for us to remember each other.” I lifted myself off the floor. My stomach sank at the thought that one day I may not be remembered, just like her.

I thought about giving her one of the pressed flowers I’d stuck in my Magic School Bus Plants Seeds book, but it didn’t seem personal enough. She gave me something really special.

My arm tensed as I reached into my pen holder. I grabbed the Montblanc pen my grandma gave me, with my ruby birthstone embedded in the cap. I loved that pen so much, but it was really hard to get it refilled, and I’d likely not be using it anymore.

I squeezed it and held it to my heart, then turned to her. “You know how much I love to write, and this is my absolute favorite pen. I’d ask you to take good care of it.”

“It’s empty?” she asked, a smile creeping up her cheeks.

I nodded.

“Thank you!” She held it close. “I’ll take good care of it. In fact, it can stay here, on your dresser. I won’t even move it.”

Was that her way of leaving it behind because she didn’t like it? But she looked happy. I got a gut feeling, but I couldn’t connect it to anything.

She smiled in the mirror above my dresser as her form thickened. She looked more and more like the girl in the photograph.