I've got sunshine on a cloudy day
When it's cold outside I've got the month of May
Well I guess you'd say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl

Until she was eight years old, Erin Gilbert's life was entirely ordinary and unsullied. The only really bad thing that had ever happened to her was when her parents made her get rid of her dog after he killed one of Mrs. Barnard from next door's awful old roosters. Erin had cried and cried and begged her parents to change their minds, but Mrs. Barnard had made a huge deal out of everything, and even threatened to call the police - which Erin didn't understand at all, police aren't allowed put dogs in jail - if the dog wasn't gone.

So that had been sad, and unfair, but a year after Corky went with her dad's friends who lived on a farm somewhere, Erin isn't as upset about it anymore, has even been thinking about asking her parents for another pet, maybe a smaller puppy that could live just in the house this time.

She's in third grade this year, where she makes 100's on all her spelling and math tests, and never gets in trouble. She has enough friends for a sleepover birthday party, and she really loves her parents. She's a normal, happy kid.

Then Mrs. Barnard dies, and Erin's whole life goes sideways.

Her parents come into her bedroom on a Saturday morning to tell her, their faces sad and serious while they sit on the edge of the bed. Erin is more scared than sad; she won't even miss Mrs. Barnard as much as she misses Corky, but it makes her stomach hurt when she tries to think about what it must be like to die, to go to sleep and just stay that way, not even dreaming, just nothing on and on and on forever.

She asks a lot of questions. What makes a heart attack happen? Can anybody have one? Can you tell if it's coming? Her parents assure her that Mrs. Barnard was very, very old, older even than Erin's grandparents in Florida, and that's why it happened. They tell her she has nothing to worry about.

But Erin's stomach doesn't feel right out all day; she can't stop thinking about it, and periodically looking out the windows to Mrs. Barnard's house as more and more cars fill up the driveway. She goes running to her mother around lunchtime and worriedly asks if the body is still in the house, and her mom hugs her and tells her no, of course not, it's someplace safe until the funeral. Then Erin has a dozen more questions about that.

The first night, when Erin's ears pop and hurt so much it wakes her up, she screams when she sees the ghost.

The first night, her parents come running right away. The ghost whooshes away just before they burst into her room, but Erin's still screaming, and both her mom and dad sit on either side of her on the bed, just like they had this morning, and tell her it was just a bad dream.

The first night, Erin mostly believes them.

The second night, her parents come running again, but Erin knows they're wrong about it being a dream.

The third night, only her mom comes when she calls.

The fifth night, no one comes.

The eighth night, Erin doesn't scream.

She's seen Mrs. Barnard's ghost twenty-nine times before her parents make her go see Dr. Potts. Erin knows exactly because she keeps a tally mark count on the first page of her journal, and has started writing a few sentences about every haunting. There usually isn't much to say, other than that the ghost stays longer now that her parents no longer come check.

Dr. Potts asks a lot of weird questions, like if Erin had ever been in Mrs. Barnard's house, or if the old woman had ever hurt her. Erin frowns in confusion and tells her no, Mrs. Barnard got mad if she even cut through her yard. She definitely never would have invited her inside.

After that, the therapist starts asking about Erin's parents: if they fight, if they spend a lot of time with her, if they do anything to scare her. She doesn't even seem to want to hear about the ghost, even though that's the only thing that scares Erin, even though that's the whole reason she's here.

Once when she's supposed to be waiting outside for her mom, Erin moves close to Dr. Potts' office door and listens.

" - her continued insistence that she's telling the truth suggests she hasn't gotten what she wants yet. It's most likely just a bid for attention."

"What should we be doing here? Attention is one thing, but surely we shouldn't be indulging such a ridiculous lie..."

Erin reels back from the door at that, tears rushing to her eyes. She just doesn't get it. Her mom barely knows Dr. Potts, but believes the therapist over Erin, even though she's her daughter.

Erin knows how important it is to tell the truth. And her mom and dad know her best of anyone.

Or, at least, she thought they did.

That night, the forty-sixth time she's seen Mrs. Barnard's ghost, Erin just pulls the covers over her head and starts to sob.

When the crying gets kind of out of control, she presses her face hard into her pillow so her parents won't hear.

Besides her parents and Dr. Potts, the only person Erin's told is Deanna Crabtree, who lives down the street and comes over to play after school sometimes. Deanna knows how mean Mrs. Barnard was, so Erin thought maybe she'd take this seriously.

She can't tell if Deanna fully believes her, but at least she doesn't say Erin's making it up. She just frowns and asks questions, so Erin ends up telling her everything, even the visits to Dr. Potts office.

It's nice, talking about it to someone who doesn't try to convince her she's wrong. Really nice, actually, and Erin feels better than she has in a long time, until one Wednesday after school. She's waiting in the third grade section of the car lot, looking for her mom's van among the snaking line of cars, when someone jostles her from behind, and suddenly a body spins in front of her, a boy's jacket draped over their head, making loud, stupid, "Ooooooh-boooooo" noises.

Worse than that sound though, is the laughter that springs up behind Erin, mean and sharp like pinpricks even before she turns around to see a bunch of kids clustered together, including Deanna, and Allie, and Tess - her entire lunch table of friends are laughing at her. But it's Madison Beckett who speaks first, her whole group of popular friends nodding along, "Hey, ghost girl, is it true you take crazy pills now?"

Stunned, Erin seeks out eye contact with Deanna, but she's just staring hard at the back of Madison's head. "N-no, I don't take any - "

"Boo!" His jacket off now, Kyle Hammond leaps in front of her face, setting off another chorus of giggling. Erin stumbles backward, her face burning as her head fills with airy panic.

"We heard you have to go see a doctor for crazy people."

"And that you lied about seeing a bunch of ghosts."

"It was just one ghost," Erin blurts out in a desperate rush. "And it's not a lie, my next door neighbor, she really died - "

"Oh my gosh," Madison shrieks. "She actually believes it!"

Kyle wrinkles his nose. "You're not a liar, you're just crazy."

"Look, she's gonna cry."

"Only little crybabies would still believe in ghosts."

Erin wraps her hands around the straps of her backpack, so tight that her fingernails dig hard into her palms. She catches half of her tongue between two rows of teeth and bites until she tastes blood, but she doesn't care; she'd give anything in the whole world not to cry right now in front of everyone.

But she feels tears hit her cheeks anyway, so she turns away and walks to the very edge of the pavement. Her vision's too blurry to tell if her mom's car is close.

"Hey." She feels someone tap her on the shoulder, but Erin doesn't turn around, because she's crying for real now, and it'd be worse if they see. "Hey." This time the person jerks on her sleeve, and Erin's head turns out of instinct.

There's a tiny girl with wild blonde hair looking patiently up at her. Erin isn't sure of her name; she thinks she's in the other third grade class, but she looks at least a year younger than everyone else, especially with her overalls all splattered with paint, like she's some little kid who's been finger painting. "What did it look like? The ghost." Erin stares at the girl for a second; there's nothing mean in her face, just curiosity, and she doesn't even seem to notice that Erin's still messily crying.

Sniffling, Erin wipes her face with her sleeve, and she has to swallow a few times before she can say, "Why?"

"I wanna know. Did it look all white with holes for eyes?" The girl curls her hands into fists and presses them over her glasses lens to demonstrate. "Like this?"

"No," Erin answers softly, still wary, glancing over the smaller girls' head to make sure the other kids aren't close enough to hear. "She...it just looks like my neighbor did. Except...glowing." She pauses, still expecting some kind of joke, but the girl is quiet and big eyed, waiting for more. "And sometimes...sometimes it flashes and you can see her bones."

"Does it fly?"

"It floats. And then I guess it flies away, but then it just looks like a flash of light."

The girl lets out an excited shout for no apparent reason; Erin jumps slightly at the sound. "Wicked. What else?"

"Um, what do you mean?"

"Does it taaaalllllk?"

"No, she just...watches me."

"Erin Gilbert!"

Erin turns her head at the sound of a teacher's voice, realizing her mom has pulled up to the car lot. She flicks her eyes back at the blonde girl and mumbles, "I gotta go."

"Ask the ghost what it feels like to fly!" The girl calls eagerly after her, and Erin throws a confused look over her shoulder just before she climbs into the backseat of her mom's car.

"How was school, sweetie?" Erin's mom always asks her that when they drive off from the school.

Today, Erin ducks her head, aware of the tear streaks still sticky on her cheeks, and twists her hands in her lap and answers, "It was good," because she doesn't want her mom to think she's trying to get attention.

The next day, no one in Erin's class will talk to her, except to call her Ghost Girl or jump out at her and yell Boo! She tries to tell a few of the boys who try that that ghosts don't actually make that noise, but it only makes it worse.

But halfway through her class's recess, Mrs. Lockhart's class comes out to the playground, too, and that blond girl makes a beeline for where Erin's sitting by herself on the blacktop. She's a few feet away from a sewer grate, but she hadn't noticed until the other girl sprawls out on her stomach and peers inside.

"Whatcha doin? 'S there a ghost down there?!" she asks excitedly, without even saying hello.

Erin blinks at her. "No. Why would there be a ghost there?"

"I dunno. Just thought maybe you see ghosts other places."

Erin crosses her arms. "Are you making fun of me?"

The girl lifts her head at that, her chin resting on the metal of the sewer. "Nope no way. I wish there was a ghost."

"You shouldn't lay on that," Erin informs her. "It's dirty."

"So?"

"So there's germs."

"SoooooOOOOoooo?"

"So that means you get sick."

"So?"

Huffing out a scoffing sound, Erin counters, "You like being sick?"

"I don't hate it. Sometimes it's fun to miss school."

Well. Erin can't argue with that. She'd even wished to stay home sick today, had thought about faking a stomach ache or sore throat, but her parents don't even believe her when she tells the truth anymore.

Even though she won the argument, the girl lifts her face off the ground and sits up on her knees. She's wearing a huge football jersey over rainbow colored leggings. It's weird.

"Did you see the ghost last night?"

"Yes." Erin draws her knees up to her chest. She doesn't like talking about this anymore. It feels like a trap.

"Good, cause I have some questions." The girl draws a breath and then, without even stopping for air, rambles out, "When did you start seeing the ghost does the room get colder when she comes in when you said you can see her bones is it like she turns into a skeleton or you can see through her skin do you think it'd ever - " She's forced to stop talking when a kickball comes zooming at her head. The girl barely ducks in time.

"Watch out, ET," the boy who kicked the ball sneers as he runs by the retrieve the ball.

Erin makes a face. "Your name's ET?"

"Nah, that's what they call me sometimes. Like the cool lil alien in that movie?" The girl sounds completely matter of fact about it. Erin isn't sure if she doesn't know they're making fun of her, or if she just doesn't care. The girl extends her pointer finger. "Phone home," she intones in a weird high pitched voice, then grins; Erin notices she's missing both bottom teeth. "My name's Jillian."

Erin can't help smiling back. "I'm Erin."

"I know," Jillian says like that was a silly thing to say. "Everyone knows who you are now. You're the one who sees ghosts."

Her face heating up yet again, Erin mutters, "But nobody believes me."

Still on her knees, Jillian shuffles a little closer. "I do."

Erin tilts her head at her. "Why?"

Jillian raises both shoulders and lets them fall. Then she does it twice more. "Cause why would you lie about that?"

Erin stares. It's so simple when Jillian says it; Erin doesn't know why her parents haven't.

"Sorry," she says after a moment of silence. "I forgot what questions you were asking...can you say them again?"

Jillian's eyes light up, and she happily repeats her litany of question, and Erin answers all of them. It takes some time, but Erin eventually makes her understand that the ghost isn't a cool thing at all, that it's scary, and probably there because of how much Mrs. Barnard hated Erin when she was alive. Erin even tells Jillian the one thing she's never even told her shrink: "I'm afraid...I keep thinking one night she's going to finally decide to actually hurt me."

Jillian gets very serious when she says that, just nods and, when Erin finishes talking, starts making a long, drawn out hmmmmmm sound. Then, exhaling, she says, "I guess we'll have to figure out how to catch it."

Erin's chest warms at the we, and just doesn't even care how ridiculous that sounds. She gives Jillian a small, clumsy smile.

Just like that, they're friends.

"I wanna see the ghost," Jillian tells her on the car lot that afternoon.

"I told you, it's only in my room at night."

"So I'll sleep over," Jillian replies at once, like she's not just inviting herself over. Like they haven't only known each other for, like, a day. "Whattdya think, Friday night?"

"That's tomorrow."

"Uh-huh."

"I have to ask my mom and dad."

"They'll probably say yes, right? I'll bring my stuff tomorrow just in case."

"You don't have to ask your parents?"

"They won't care. I've never slept over at someone's house, though. Except my grandma's once. Do I just wear my normal pajamas or is there something special?"

"Um..." It takes Erin a second to answer; Jillian makes her head spin. "Just normal ones are fine." As soon as she's answered, though, Erin starts to doubt herself. She's only been to maybe two sleepovers herself; maybe she's wrong.

"Coooool," Jillian drags the word out and uses a funny voice; she does that a lot, Erin's already noticed.

"Jillian Holtzmann!" A teacher calls out.

Jillian grins at Erin. "Th-th-that's me, folks! I'll see you tomorrow. During school, obviously, and then also after school and probably at your house."

Erin's mom is thrilled when Erin asks if she can have a friend over to spend the night, which is good, because after dinner, the phone rings, and right after he answers, Erin's dad smiles at her and passes over the phone. "For you."

"Hello?" Erin asks cautiously; she never gets phone calls, and her dad hadn't talked long enough for it to be one of her grandparents wanting to speak to her.

"Erin? It's Jillian Holtzmann." Her voice is loud over the phone. "My mom made me call and double check that it's okay for me to spend the night tomorrow."

"My parents said it's fine."

Jillian lets out a celebratory noise that makes Erin have to pull the phone away from her ear. "Great. I'll pack my stuff as soon as we get off the phone."

In spite of that pronouncement, Jillian makes no attempt to end the conversation. Erin twirls the phone cord absently between her fingers. "So. How'd you know my number?"

"I found you in last year's yearbook so I'd know your last name, and then we checked in the phone book. Got two wrong Gilbert's before this one. They sounded fun, though."

"You went to our school last year?" Erin asks, surprised. She doesn't remember Jillian from any of the second grade activities, so she'd assumed she must have been a new student.

"Yuh-HUH, but I was in Mrs. Luca's class." Ms. Luca is a first grade teacher. "They skipped me up this year. Mom says that's why I'm so short compared to everyone."

Erin raises her eyebrows. Skipping a grade must mean Jillian's even smarter than she is. "How old are you?"

"Seven and one twelfth. That means my birthday was last month."

"Oh." There's a longer pause this. Erin wants to keep talking on the phone, though; it makes her feel grown up. "Um. What are you doing?"

"Talking on the phone to you."

That makes Erin giggle. "I mean before, though."

"I ate dinner with my parents. And then before that I was taking apart my alarm clock. Now I'm talking to you on the phone. When we hang up I'll pack my stuff for our sleepover, and then I'll put the alarm clock back together."

"How come you took it apart?"

"Cause I wanted to put it back together."

All day on Friday, every time another kid looks at her funny, or calls her a name, she curls her fingers together and reminds herself that Jillian's coming over after school, and it almost makes her smile.

She likes Jillian; she's weird, but in a way that makes weird almost seem like a good thing. As far as Erin can tell, nothing seems to bother her, and she's probably smarter than anyone else in their grade. It makes Erin a little jealous, sometimes, but Jillian believes her about the ghost, and that's the best and most important thing.

Erin's mom looks a little surprised when Jillian crawls in the car beside Erin - she's so small, and she's wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and weird shiny pants - but then she smiles sweetly and introduces herself. She asks Jillian a million questions, about her parents and her teacher and how old she is, and Erin wants her to stop talking because she's afraid Jillian might say something about the ghost.

"Mom?" She says really fast when Jillian's just finished answering a question. "Will you play the sunshine song?"

"Sure, sweetie."

Her mom switches from the radio to Erin's favorite tape in her car, already rewound to the best song.

I've got sunshiiiiiine on a cloudy day...

"I know this," Jillian exclaims. "It's The Temptations."

Erin's mom beams at them in the rear view mirror. "That's right! You like them?"

"Yah. My mom has this record." Jillian draws a breath and starts singing, as loud and effortless as she does everything else. "My girl, my girl, MY GIRL, talking bout...my giiiirrrrrl. MY GIRL."

Erin loves this song, plays it all the time in the car, but she only ever sings along under her breath, like she doesn't want to drown out the real singers. But Jillian's voice rides right along with the music, her shoulders and head moving along with it. Erin starts fluttering her fingers along with the beat, held tight at her sides, but then Jillian grins over at her, and by the time the chorus comes around again, she takes a brave breath and joins along.

"YES!" Jillian hoots in delight before rejoining the singing. Erin gets louder, matching her friend, and then she catches her mom's eye in the rearview mirror, smiling at her in a way Erin's barely seen since Mrs. Barnard died. It's a smile that gets all the way to her eyes.

Jillian pushes her shoulder against Erin's when they get out of the car, walking sideways into her and nodding at the house next door. "Is that where she lived?"

"Yeah," Erin whispers back. "They're not there anymore, but she used to keep roosters in the backyard."

"More than just the one your dog killed?"

"There were like six of them."

"Did they really cocka-doodle-do in the morning?"

"Not just the morning. They made noise all the time."

Jillian makes a gobbling noise that sounds mostly like someone choking on their own spit. "Roosters are weird."

The first night Jillian sleeps over, they try to stay awake and wait for the ghost, a flashlight glowing between them in Erin's bed. Erin's tried that before, wanting to see if Mrs. Barnard will stay away if she simply doesn't fall asleep, but she always loses the fight to exhaustion.

It's easier with Jillian there to talk to. Even after the whole afternoon and evening together they haven't run out of things to say, and the last number Erin remembers seeing on her clock is 12:24, and she's super proud of herself from staying up past midnight.

But somehow, both of them fall asleep at some point, because Erin wakes up the way she always does, except this time Jillian's halfway on her pillow, one her legs slung over Erin's.

Mrs. Barnard's ghost is hovering at the foot of her bed.

It's the seventy-first time Erin's seen her, and it still feels like she can't move or breathe for a moment, like this is just a nightmare like her parents used to think, except Erin's trapped in it.

Then the ghosts head shifts slowly, her eyes unmistakably landing on Jillian's sleeping form, and Erin remembers what she's supposed to do.

"Jillian!"

"Mmmph..."

"Jill, wake up, wake up she's here - "

Suddenly a wave of wind sweeps over Erin, throwing the bedsheet over her and Jillian's head.

"No!" She shouts out even though she tries not to make any noise anymore, nothing her parents will hear down the hall, but she can feel Jillian twisting awake, but by the time she's uncovered her hand the ghost is just a rush of blue light seeping out the window.

Only then does Jillian fully opens her eyes. "Wha' happened?"

"She left as soon as she saw you," Erin says in a tight voice, tears already crawling up the column of her throat because of course this happened, the same way it always left before her parents got here. No wonder no one's ever going to believe her, now even Jillian is going to think she's crazy -

"Damn," Jillian says at her regular volume, and the ease of the curse word nearly startles Erin out of her near breakdown. "Didn't mean to fall asleep." Jillian fishes the flashlight out from the covers and points the light at Erin. "What's wrong?"

"I just...I wanted you to see it...so you'd know I was telling the truth."

Jillian sighs impatiently. "I already know you're telling the truth." She tilts her head back and sniffs loudly. "Do you smell that? I think I smell it." She clicks off the flashlight, sounding exceptionally disappointed. "I still wanted to see it though."

"My therapist makes me draw it sometimes," Erin offers. "I could draw it and show you."

"Okay," Jillian says, laying down again, further away from Erin than she was when they woke up. "But next time I sleep over, we'll try a new plan. Maybe have to be sneaky about it."

"Sure," Erin agrees, glad for the darkness so Jillian doesn't see her smiling.

She's really happy there's going to be a next time.

Over the next few weeks, Erin's favorite part of the school day becomes the second half of recess, when their playground time crosses over with Jillian's class. Erin likes to stay away from the other kids as much as possible, so they never play any games or even really use the playground equipment. It's enough just to get to hang out with Jillian, the two of them sprawled out on the blacktop, far enough from the teacher's bench so the adults can't hear them talking, but close enough so maybe other kids will leave them alone.

Erin doesn't know if Jillian knows why that's the reason for their minimal recess activities; the younger girl still hasn't given any indication that she knows kids make fun of them.

One day Madison and a few of her closest friends - which now includes Deanna Crabtree - walk by them and say, "Look, it's ET and Ghost Girl. Probably talking to themselves again.

The Ghost Girl nickname is common by then, but it stings fresh every time, and Erin ducks her head and hugs her knees, making herself as small as possible. Jillian's expression doesn't waver, and she doesn't even look up at Madison or the others as they walk on past, but after a full minute of silence, she says out of nowhere, "Hey Eeeeeerin?" She stretches Erin's name out, and her voice is pitched lower than normal. Stuff like that doesn't even seem out of the ordinary to Erin anymore. "You're my best friend."

Erin lifts her head. "Best friend?" she repeats in a soft, reverent voice, the words warm and glowing. Even when she had friends, she's pretty sure she was never anyone's best. There was always someone else they liked more.

"Yuh-huh." Jillian takes her glasses off and puts them back on for no apparent reason. "Am I yours?"

A smile blooms on Erin's face, and it's so easy to answer, "Of course you are." She wants to say more, to explain that Jillian's the best friend she's ever had, that that'd be true even if she still had all her old friends.

But Jillian's already grinning hugely, and she starts talking again before Erin can even get all her words together, because everything that's hard for Erin is easy for Jillian. "Good. I wish we were in the same class. The rest of the day is so boring now."

"Maybe we'll get the same teacher next year."

"We probably will. My parents can request it and I betcha they'll let us."

"Really?"

"Yeah they know Principal Reitman real well cause of when they decided I should skip second grade. They were worried about me making friends with older kids, because of social development, so if they say you're important to that he'll probably keep us together."

"Will your parents ask him if you ask them to?"

"For sure. They want to meet you, though, they keep telling me to invite you over to our house for once."

"I'd come to your house."

"Okay. Not this weekend, though. I wanna try to see the ghost one more time."

The second through fifth time Jillian sleeps over, she doesn't see the ghost. Neither does Erin, actually, the only nights she's slept all the way through since this started. It's like the ghost knows when Jillian's there, and knows not to come.

Jillian is always disappointed, and always has some new plan to trick Mrs. Barnard into showing herself, but Erin starts to love those nights. Once she realizes her best friend really isn't going to start suspecting her of lying, Erin's nothing but relieved for the reprieve from her haunting.

She falls asleep so easy with Jillian beside her. The sound of the other girl's breathing, the apple smell of her shampoo, and even her freezing cold feet in the middle of the night...they become Erin's definition of safe.

She first goes to Jillian's house during the last month of third grade. Erin gets nervous when they call Jillian's name, and the other girl eagerly grabs her hand and pulls her toward a station wagon. Erin's parents think Jillian's hilarious, and "good for her", and Erin wants Jillian's parents to like her just as much.

"Hiya Momsie," Jillian greets when she bounces into the backseat, still holding onto Erin. "That's Erin, this is her."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Holtzmann," Erin says politely, just like her parents told her to.

"You can call me Maggie, sweetheart," Jillian's mom tells her with a warm smile. "Until you get to the high school, of course, and then it's Mrs. Holtzmann."

"Mom teaches art at the high school," Jillian informs her. "I'm not good at drawing, but you are. Mom, Mom, Erin is. We'll show you her drawing when we get home."

"Can't wait to see them. I like to recruit my artists early." She turns around and winks at Erin. "But then again, Jillian says you're a science nut like her."

"Yes, ma'am, it's probably my favorite subject," Erin says shyly.

Jillian's mom is pretty like her, with blue eyes and blonde hair currently tucked under a red bandana. She seems younger than Erin's mother, or most mothers she knows.

"Don't know where Jilly got that science brain," she says fondly. "Soon me and her dad are gonna have to ask her how to fix things for us."

"You already do sometimes," Jillian asserts, then leans up between the front two seats to indicate the car radio. "Mom, put it on."

"Oh, of course," Maggie replies with a grin, pushing a tape into the tape deck.

The familiar bouncing intro of "My Girl" fills the car, and Jillian grins at Erin, proud of herself. They listen to that song every time Jillian rides home from school with Erin.

"You have it, too?" Erin asks her excitedly.

"I taped it last night! From the record."

Erin's eyes widen, impressed. "You know how?"

"Mmmm-HMMMMM. I can teach ya." Then, barely pausing for breath, Jillian starts singing mid-verse. Erin joins in slowly, though she's shyer than usual in front of Jillian's mom, but then Maggie turns up the volume and starts singing, too, and Erin feels her voice blending in.

It feels safe. It feels happy.

(Safe and happy are starting to feel like Erin's definition of Jillian.)

As soon as they're in the Holtzmann house, Jillian pokes Erin in the side hands her her own backpack she'd just now put down. "Show Mom one of those drawings you did."

Obediently, Erin pulls out her art binder, but she hesitates when the first stack of drawing is just a series she did of the ghost, trying to show Jillian what it was like. She's about to pick something else, but Jillian grabs right for the top sheet and thrusts it at her mom. "See?"

"Oh, wow," Maggie exclaims, not at all fake sounding. "This is great, Erin...and so imaginative."

"She didn't imagine it," Jillian says impatiently. "She - "

"Yeah, I did," Erin interrupts quickly, ignoring the pout Jillian throws her. "I just made it up."

"Very impressive," Maggie pronounces, handing the drawing back. Erin stands up a little straighter, basking in the praise. "Promise me you'll try to squeeze in an art class with me in between all your chemistry labs, yeah?"

Erin smiles. High school seems so far away, but she likes the idea of both art classes and science labs. "I will."

"Not me," Jillian declares.

"I know, baby," her mother answers, but not like she minds. She seems right on the edge of laughing. "I've more than learned my lesson about forcing you to paint anything that isn't a wall." She kisses the top of her daughter's head and smiles at Erin. "You girls want a snack or something before I go paint?"

Jillian points at a kitchen cupboard. "We'll find something."

"Just don't spoil your appetites. Dad's bringing home dinner."

Jillian's already emerged with a cylinder of Pringles. She smiles innocently. "We won't." Then she's got both hands splayed on Erin's back, walking her out of the kitchen. "Come on come on come on." When they're out of Maggie's earshot, Jillian tells her, "You coulda told her about the ghost. My parents'll believe you."

"I doubt it," Erin replies, really feeling older than Jillian for maybe the first time. At eight years old, Erin has already learned a hard truth: sometimes parents aren't on your side.

Erin likes being at Jillian's house, because it means she gets to learn new things about her.

Like how her mom teaches art and does painting on the side, and her dad teaches English at a college and has poems in actual books. Or that they let her paint her own room, so it's purple with other colors splattered all over them. Or that Jillian has collections all over her bedrooms of different machine parts: a whole mason jar full of springs, and one with just chains. She even has a red tool box thats just hers, sitting on the floor with half its contents spilled out amid scattered Lego and Tinkertoys. She has her own small record player, too, so she turns on music as soon as they get there, like Jillian can't bear anything quiet.

Jillian doesn't know much about hosting - she just flops onto the floor and starts tinkering with an old VCR - but Erin doesn't mind. She just sits close by and pulls out her journal to draw in, content to just listen to her best friend talk. No one crowds Erin's head like Jillian does; Jillian is words and noise and music, and around her, there's no space left in Erin's brain for the worried thoughts.

Summer vacation that year is the best thing ever; Jillian's house isn't actually very far from Erin's, and as long as it's light out they're allowed to ride their bikes to each other's homes, so they're back and forth practically all the time.

Erin's nine already by then, but Jillian doesn't turn eight until June - she was young for her grade even before she jumped ahead. She doesn't want a party, but her parents drive her and Erin over two years to a city with a big science musuem, and it's the coolest day ever. After, they go to a restaurant where waiters sing Happy Birthday and Jillian and Erin split a giant ice cream sundae melting onto a warm brownie. They fall asleep together in the backseat of the car, one of the mixtapes Jillian showed Erin how to make playing quietly over the radio.

Jillian's accepted the fact that the ghost will never show itself when she stays over at Erin's, so she sets them a new task: getting a photo of it. She sneaks her dad's Poloroid camera to Erin's house one day, and presents it triumphantly to Erin right in front of her parents.

"What's that for, girls?" Erin's dad asks, and before Erin can stop her, Jillian's announced that it's to take photos of the ghost.

Erin changes the subject fast, but she catches the look her parents exchange, so it's not a surprise that night, after Jillian's gone home - declining to spend the night so Erin can get her a photograph as soon as possible - when her mother tentatively begins, "Erin, honey...you know we adore Jillian, but Dad and I are a little concerned if she's got you returning to this ghost nonsense..."

"You were doing so well, princess," her dad adds. "Even Dr. Potts thinks so...today was the first we've heard of it in awhile."

"It wasn't Jillian's fault," Erin protests, words tripping over each other in their desperate hurry to get out. "She only said that because I did...we won't do anymore ghost stuff, I swear, please, please don't make her stop coming over!"

They assure her that isn't their plan at all, but they also make Erin leave the camera downstairs for the night, and Erin agrees, easily. For the first time, she even feels willing to deny the ghost exists at all, to say she's been lying the whole time, if that's what it takes to keep Jillian.

By the end of the summer, Jillian and Erin spend so many nights together, leaving Erin's room either empty or doubly occupied, Erin sees the ghost less and less even when she's alone, as if protection is something Jillian leaves behind, same as the smell of apples and the occasional curly blonde hair clinging to Erin's pillow.

They're in the same class in fourth grade, just as Jillian said they would be.

It's funny, seeing other kids react to Jillian in all her strangeness: the noises and the funny voices and the fact that her parents let her wear whatever clothing combination she wants. Sometimes, Erin feels brief, guilty flickers of embarrassment - like when a boy comes to their table and asks perfectly nicely if he can borrow a green colored pencil, and Jillian says in this stiff, high pitched voice, "I-am-a-robot. Would-you-like-to-hear-100-digits-of-pi?" until the boy makes a face and walks off to ask someone else.

But then Jillian'll grin at her and chase all the embarrassment away. Jillian doesn't care what anyone but Erin thinks about her, and it's a good feeling. One Erin wants to keep.

Their parents let them ride their bikes to school in fourth grade, and they have a special corner between their two neighborhoods where they meet every morning. Once, toward the very end of the school year, two months after Erin's tenth birthday and three months since she last saw Mrs. Barnard's ghost, Jillian's running late.

That's not super unusual; sometimes Jillian removes her tires or bike chain to use in one of the inventions she's always making lately in her garage, and on those days she has to run and meet Erin at their corner, where she'll then hop on the pegs of Erin's bike's back tires and hold onto her waist the whole way to school. Erin kind of likes those mornings best; it makes her feel like she's the powerful, protective one. And Jillian's still so small it barely makes pedaling harder.

But ten minutes pass, according to Erin's solar system watch, and Jillian's never been this late before, and Erin's never been marked tardy at school, so finally when she can't wait any longer she hops on her bike and pedals onward alone.

She's hoping Jillian's mom had to drop her off for some reason, but Jillian isn't in the classroom when Erin hurries in just before the bell, and she doesn't come in late all morning, either.

Erin knows she's probably just home sick, or had a doctors appointment she forgot to mention, but it's never happened before, and it makes Erin anxious not to have her there. Her hands are nervous and jumpy all day, and she's never noticed the kids still call her Ghost Girl this much, or the way they look at her like she's something sticky and gross. Jillian makes her not notice.

Lunch is the worst; there's no one to sit beside or talk to, and Erin's skin is starting to fill like it's pulled too tight even before Scott Laskey sits down in front of her and asks, "Hey, is it true about Jillian?"

None of the kids ever call Jillian by her real name. It makes Erin's lungs shrink. Her voice comes out all jumbled and quiet, "What about her?"

"My dad said she and her mom got in a car crash. Her mom's dead but they don't know how hurt Jillian got."

Erin sucks in a breath. "You're lying."

"Whatever, no, I'm not. We saw the police car outside their house." Scott lives on Jillian's street, Erin remembers that now, that part's true, oh no oh no oh no -

Everything's starting to go fuzzy and bright at the edge of Erin's vision. She can't really breathe right, not without making a lot of noise that sounds like a baby crying, and the last thing she hears before a bunch of teachers converge on her is someone saying, "I think Ghost Girl's possessed."

She's in the nurse's office, crying and crying and crying, she can't stop it, even when the nurse makes her breathe into a paper bag because she was coughing so hard, the sobs are so loud she can't hear what the nurse is saying, and finally she just lets Erin curl up on the cot with her arms wrapped around her head.

Then suddenly her mom is there, gently untangling the tight ball of Erin and making her look.

Her mom's eyes are red, like she's been crying, and a fear thrums through Erin's body worse than any the ghost ever put there, but then her mom says, "Jillian's fine, sweetie, she's just fine, I promise." She keeps touching Erin's hair. "She and her mom were in an accident last night, and Maggie - " Her mom's voice cracks a little. "Maggie died, but Jillian's okay. She's probably just very, very sad."

Erin swallows and swallows and when she can finally talk again her voice sounds like a stranger's. "I want to see her."

"Baby, we're gonna wanna give Jill and her daddy some time, okay? How about you and I go pick out some pretty flowers to send, and then maybe tomorrow we can take over some food - "

"No," Erin yells, and that doesn't sound like her either, because she doesn't talk back to her mom. "I need to see Jillian now, she wants me to, okay? I know she does."

She doesn't have to go back to class; her mom puts her bike in the trunk of the car and drives them home. Erin starts to protest again when they miss the turn for Jillian's house, but her mom shushes her and says, "I'm going to just call her house, okay, baby? We gotta make sure it's okay."

But Erin never has to make sure it's okay, she shows up at Jillian's house all the time, so when her mom goes in the house, Erin grabs her bike and pedals furiously, so hard her legs are sore by the time she gets there.

There are a lot of cars in the driveway, and Erin doesn't know the woman who answers the door. It stalls her momentum, and makes her remember her manners. "Um. Is Jillian home?"

The woman makes a sad face. "She is, but it's not a good time, dear - "

"Erin?" It's Ben, Jillian's dad, coming up from behind the stranger lady. Erin likes Jillian's dad, he's funny and he can whistle better than anyone she knows, but right now she feels afraid of him. His face is strange and sagging; no one looks or sounds like themselves today. "Jillian's in her room, I think she wants to see you."

At that, Erin rushes right past them and barrels through the house, which is full of adults she doesn't know, and walks into Jillian's room without knocking.

Jillian at least, looks the same as she always does, except there's a neat row of stitches on her cheek. She sighs in relief when she sees Erin. "Good, you came. I wanted to call you this morning but Dad said you'd be in school."

Erin can't figure out what to say. "Are you alright?"

Sighing, Jillian nods like that was a stupid question. "Eriiiiin. Focus. When your neighbor died, how long until the ghost showed up again?"

"Uhh...it was the first night, after my parents told me."

"Good." Jillian claps her hands together. "So my mom will probably come see me tonight. Everyone thinks it's weird I haven't cried or something, I heard my aunts talking about it, but they don't know things that we know, right? They think they'll never see her again." Jillian frowns suddenly, tilting her head and squinting at Erin. "You look like you've been crying."

"Yeah, um, I was, at school."

"Why?"

"Scott said you got hurt."

"Barely. See? Nine stitches. All the car windows broke, it was crazy." Jillian's talking faster than usual, pacing in tight little loops of the room. "Listen. I know Mrs. Barnard's ghost never talked to you but that doesn't mean they can't talk probably, right?"

"I don't know. I guess not. But Jillian..." Erin's voice trails off, because it's just now hitting her, now that she knows Jillian is safe and unharmed, that Jillian's mom is dead.

And she doesn't know how to explain that ghosts won't make that better. Erin's only ever seen one, but she doesn't think ghosts are a good thing.

Jillian doesn't let her finish the sentence anyway, talking over her in a rush, "I know you don't see her anymore, after a whole year, but Mrs. Barnard didn't even like you, so I think my mom would keep coming back. I'm going to ask if she can stay around during the day, too, even if she just has to stay in my room."

"Jill?" Erin finally manages to get out, her voice tiny.

The shortening of her name seems to get through to her, and Jillian's eyes finally stop moving and land on Erin. "What?"

"I was really worried about you." Her voice is shaking a little. "Were you scared?"

Jillian's face shifts, and suddenly she looks small and young and unsure, and it makes Erin sorry she asked. Then, finally, Jillian nods. "Yeah. It was really really scary."

So Erin does what she always wished someone would have done for her, every night she woke up scared, long after her parents stopped coming when she called. She steps forward and awkwardly wraps small arms around her best friend and holds tight.

The door to the bedroom cracks open for a moment, and the girls move away from each other to look up at Erin's mom peeking in. "Jillian, sweetheart, I'm so so sorry to hear about your mom." Jillian's eyes dull, like she's heard that too many times already, and she doesn't even answer. Erin's mom shifts her attention to her daughter. "Erin, come on. Jillian needs time with her family."

Jillian isn't in school for the rest of the week, and Erin hates it; she doesn't see her again until the funeral.

It's the first time she's ever seen Jillian in a dress, and it almost makes Erin want to laugh for a sudden, absurd moment, until Jillian spots her and breaks away from the cluster of family members to run up to Erin. "She hasn't come yet," she confides. "But I have a theory."

"What is it?"

"I think maybe it's your bedroom. I got some books out of the library back when we were first trying to see the ghost, and it says there are places with heightened paranormal activity." She pronounces the final phrase carefully, like it's something she's memorized. "So I want to spend the night at your house tonight."

"Will your par - your dad let you?"

"Yeah, he says it'd be good for me. I haven't told him about the ghost yet...want it to be a surprise, once I can talk to her and figure out how she can stay around."

There is a bad, bad feeling in the pit of Erin's stomach that this isn't going to work, that Maggie Holtzmann is not the same as Mrs. Barnard, but she doesn't say anything because she really really wants Jillian to be right.

"I'll ask my parents," she says. "But I'm sure they'll say yes."

It's a weird sleepover. Erin's parents are even weird, being so nice to Jillian it almost seems fake. They let them bake cupcakes and take them to Erin's room to eat, even though she's not usually allowed food in there.

Jillian doesn't want to do much; it's like they're just waiting for it to be nighttime. Her dad even helps them move the television from the den into Erin's room, and they sit on Erin's bed and watch movies on VHS until it's late enough to put on pajamas and get in bed.

"Do you think sleeping is part of it?" Jillian asks in a hushed voice.

"I don't know, I never was able to stay awake," Erin reminds her. "But it always woke me up, so I don't think you'll sleep through it."

"I might be too excited to sleep."

It takes Erin a long time to fall asleep, too, but she's more anxious than excited. She's used to being scared of waking up to ghosts - tonight, though, she's afraid there won't be one.

"No, no, no, no..."

Erin's eyes fly open, and she quickly becomes aware of morning sunlight streaming through her blinds, and Jillian sitting up in bed beside her, shaking her head in mounting distress.

"Jill?"

"Nothing happened, I didn't wake up, she didn't...my mom didn't come." Jillian launches herself off Erin's bed and starts pacing around the room. "I don't get it, it's been a week, your dumb stupid neighbor came after one night and she didn't even like you..."

Erin feels terrible. She should have told Jillian what she was really thinking last night, not let her get her hopes up. "I...I think that's sort of the point, Jillian. I don't think being a ghost is a good thing, I think maybe it's only when they're mad - "

"SHUT UP!" Jillian stops pacing to look at Erin, and there are tears rolling down her cheeks. Erin's body jolts unpleasantly; she's never seen Jillian cry, and Jillian's never been mean to her before. She's not sure which is worse. "I don't think you know anything, you're just making it up! You probably made up everything, just like everyone always says."

The words hit Erin like a punch, knocking the wind out of her and filling her eyes instantly with tears. "I...no, I didn't, Jillian you know I didn't - "

"I know if ghosts were real, my mom would have come to see me. That means you're just a liar." Jillian's face crumples slowly, a forceful wail tearing out of her as she starts sobbing, and Erin hates her and wants to hug her at the same time. "I'm going home," she chokes out, the words barely decipherable, and then she's slamming Erin's bedroom door with a thud that Erin feels deep in her stomach.

Erin sits there, still on her bed, and she waits for Jillian to come back in and take it back, to say she believes Erin just like she always has, the way Erin needs her to believe.

But she doesn't come back. And after a moment, Erin gets up and goes to her window just in time to see Jillian, still in her pajamas, riding away on her bike, getting smaller and smaller.

Quietly, making sure not to make any noise, Erin starts to cry; it feels like she's just lost something important, and she won't be able to get it back.

A/N: So every chapter (I'm thinking about maybe 4-5 chapters total?) won't be nearly this long, but I wanted to get the childhood section mainly out of the way, and next chapter (after a little resolution to the kiddos current state, obviously) will move onto those hormone charged teenage years.

Also, I stole a few details from posts I'd seen about facts from the various GB books (the story with Erin's dog, her neighbors name, the fact that she draws the ghost) but I haven't read the full things myself. Also, this is an unbetaed thing I wrote in pieces while working, so excuse the typos I have yet to catch...I always end up editing a dozen or so times.