☁ . ☁ . ☁

By the time Olive re-enters the room, Haley has wiped away the last stray tears and is dumping the contents of another box onto the floor. A photo slips out from the open box and drifts lazily to the floor. Haley picks it up, rolls her eyes, and sets it on the bed.

Olive leans against the doorframe, holding the cell phone. She whispers, "Mom put me on hold."

"She called us," Haley says loudly. Olive winces and points at the sleeping girl, and Haley shakes her head. "She's out cold."

Olive notices the photo on Haley's bed and tiptoes across the room, picks it up. "Did you pack this?"

Haley, as if it's obvious: "No."

Olive tilts it away from the glare of the window. "Mom and Dad packed us a photo?" It's a snapshot of their family of four, grinning at the camera from the state fair petting zoo. Haley has their mom's red hair and audacious grin. Olive, her father's dark features and muted half-smile.

"I guess we didn't mess up that badly, then." Olive sets the photo back on the bed, wistful. "I don't know if I can put this up. It'll make me too sad."

"It's not like they're dead; they just hate us."

Olive looks distraught, and Haley backpedals.

"They don't hate us, I'm kidding. We just... pushed them a little too far this time. They'll calm down, we'll spend the summer here, they'll realize how much they miss us, and... when we go home, everything'll be normal. Except we'll do better next time."

Olive gives her a look of disbelief, which resolves into a smile.

Haley grins. "I know, I always say that."

"No, you never say that."

"Oh. Well I always think it. Anyway, it'll be more fun here than it would be in any summer camp. Especially that summer camp."

Olive raises a conspiratorial finger to her lips. "Don't tell Lila that, or she'll give us more chores. This is supposed to be punishment, remember?"

"Nah, I think Mom and Dad just ran out of ideas of what to do with us. They already knew Lila would take us, and they already knew Mr. Westbrook would drive us. It's not like Mom and Dad would cancel their cruise to pawn us off themselves."

Olive sits quietly for a moment, examining the photo. "Sometimes I don't like the way you talk about them."

Haley doesn't respond, though she wears a look of mild guilt. "Is this the part where we set a Resolution?" Their resolutions come and go too frequently to be New Year's Resolutions.

"Yeah."

Olive sifts through the contents of the overturned boxes and unearths a purple sketchbook. She flips to a new page, past doodles of flowers, past a few strange, frantic sketches done in the aftermath of nightmares (she won't show these to anyone, no matter how much Haley asks), past a few previous Resolutions she and her sister have made. They sit across from one another, cross-legged, amidst the snores of the sleeping, soaking stranger.

"We're going to do better this time?" Olive asks.

"Of course."

"Okay. Where do we start?"

Haley thinks. "No fighting."

"No fighting," Olive agrees.

"Except–"

"Haley!"

"... No fighting."

"No fighting."

Olive scribbles the first item in their new Resolution list as their mother's voice starts clamoring at the other end of the line. Olive picks up the phone and sandwiches it between her shoulder and ear, still scribbling. "Hey. Yeah, I'm still here, Mom."

Their mother says something Haley can't hear and Olive winces, looks to be making up her mind, then sighs. "Yeah."

Haley realizes, then makes a series of frantic motions that conclusively convey no, no, no, no.

"Yeah, she's right here."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

She pushes the receiver at Haley, who begrudgingly accepts it. "Hi. Mom. How's your cruise?"

Her mother's cool, crisp voice floats through the speaker. "Very relaxing. We just left the dock, so I only have a few minutes. I wanted to check in before we lost service. You should see the water. Crystal clear."

"Sounds nice."

Olive whispers "I'm going to get my suitcase," and tiptoes out of the room.

Traitor, Haley mouths after her. She pulls the phone back to her ear as her mother asks, "How's the valley?"

Haley looks at the girl sleeping beneath the window. "Rainy." She sighs and pulls her knees to her chest, sitting on the hard floor. "I don't think the boys want to talk to us."

"You two are usually so good at making friends."

Haley scowls, feeling it's too soon for sarcasm.

Her mother continues, "it's too bad; that summer camp would have been a great place for you and Olive to meet some new friends. I suppose you'll have to work with what you have." Haley's non-answers don't seem to deter her mother. "Well, I'm glad you two made it in alright. I'm sure it was good to see Mr. Westbrook again."

"Yeah, it was. He says hello."

"And you gave him the money I sent with you?"

"Um, yes."

"What?"

"Yes, we did."

"Don't you think I know that tone? I can't believe you. I can't believe you."

"He... he wouldn't take it. He took half, but..."

"So you pocketed the rest?"

"You're right, I should've chased down the truck and stuffed it into his tailpipe."

"Who raised you to be like this?"

Haley scowls. "Uh, you actually."

"Don't you start with me. I am... I am fed up. God, I hope Lila has the strength to... Because at this point, I'm at my wit's end with you two."

Haley's grip around the phone is tight, eyes shut in frustration. She considers throwing it against the wall, but, no. Not her phone. Not her wall. Haley covers the speaker and says loudly, "Bye, Mom. Love you too."

She ends the call and slams her fist against the wood floor. Haley throws herself onto the bed with an aggravated sigh and stares at the open window. The no-longer-sleeping girl stares back. She looks deliriously at Haley. "Uh... sup?"

Haley sits bolt upright. "I. Am. So. Sorry."

The girl can't be much older than Haley – a few years, maybe? Her dark hair sticks to the sides of her face, slick with rainwater, and her flannel is soaked through. She asks, "What are you doing in my house?"

Haley stammers. "Uh... I..."

The girl looks around for a lucid moment. "This isn't my house."

"Then... uh... what are you doing in my house?" Haley accuses. The girl laughs, unperturbed.

"Your house? How long was I sleeping?" She swings her legs to the ground, then smacks her forehead. "Oh, you're the guest Lila was talking about. I thought she meant, like, ghosts. Or at least, you know, adults. I'm Bree. I help Lila out with the chores."

"Haley," the girls shake hands across the gap between the bed and window, arms stretched taut. Haley grins. "Dude, you snore like a bear."

Bree looks proud of this fact. Her face softens and she pushes a strand of long hair out of her face. "Fun phone call?"

"Oh." Haley sets the receiver down on the bedside. She is proud of herself for managing not to throw it. "Yeah." She flops onto her back, struggling for words to justify the embarrassing conversation. All that manages to come out is another "... yeah."

"I don't really know you, but I do know all the best hiking trails that'll take you far outside of cell service. If you ever need, just say the word."

"That... sounds really nice, actually."

"That's why you're here, right?"

"Lila wants this to be a healing place, to help people move on. But it's not just ghosts that need help moving on. There's a lot of life before the afterlife."

Haley doesn't know what to say, so she asks, "Why are you in our room?"

Bree stretches her arms above her head. "Power nap in between chores!" She looks over Haley's shoulder and asks, "How long was I out?" She seems to find the answer and rolls onto her side, bemused. "No wonder I feel like garbage."

Haley turns to follow her gaze and finds Neil standing in the hallway holding a small whiteboard, upon which is written About 20 Minutes in tidy handwriting. Olive is standing beside him, flowery suitcase in hand, and looking baffled.

If Bree feels like garbage, she doesn't show it. She leans her torso out the window and wrings out her long hair, a stream of droplets pattering against the roof. Her voice muffled by the glass, she says, "Have you met Neil? This is Neil."

Neil scribbles on his whiteboard Nice to meet you, then wipes it clean. If this is weird, Bree makes no indication. He writes, Devon needs help and, as if to prove a point, a loud bang sounds from downstairs. Bree makes a disappointed face. "But I'm sleepy..."

It's too big for us, Neil writes.

Haley perks up. Since her previous stay in Echo Valley (after the first, and biggest, fight with her parents), she has hoped to encounter a ghost. Maybe they're shy of the big city with all its lights and noises and living people. Haley suspects there's more to it than that – that there's something about this place that draws them in.

Bree tosses her head back and groans. "Fiiiine." She hops to her feet and slicks her hair back into a ponytail.

Haley sits upright. "We can help!"

This draws looks from not only Bree and Neil, but Olive.

"We've got it covered," Bree says, speaking louder over the cacophony of angry spirits below. She follows Neil as he hustles out the door, hair dripping a trail of water. On her way down the stairs, she calls back to them: "Chat more soon!"

And for the third time, Haley and Olive are left alone.

"Where's Lila?" Olive wonders.

Haley shuts the window and brushes the rain puddle off onto the floor. She kneels on the windowsill, staring out into the woods beyond the property. Pine trees jostle in the wind, stretching far into the distance, green dulling to blue-purple behind the haze of atmosphere.

Olive opens her sketchbook and taps the page with her pen, ignoring the chaotic staccato rising through the floorboards. "Okay. Where were we? Number one: No Fighting."

Haley sits on the damp windowsill.

"Except," she mutters.

➵ . ➵ . ➵