Have you seen her?” My eyes grazing over the citrine pendant she always wears, to the embellished purple cotton tunic, the skinny white jeans, and the cute gold sandals on her feet, before meeting her gaze once again. “You know I can’t see the ones who’ve crossed over, I can only see the ones who still linger.”

“Do you ever try to talk to them, convince them to move on?” She hitches her purple purse up high onto her shoulder.

I look at her like she’s crazy, the thought never even occurred to me. It took me so long to learn how to ignore them, to tune them out completely, I can’t even imagine engaging them now. Besides, I’ve got no shortage of my own problems to solve, the last thing I need to do is get involved with a bunch of misguided ghosts.

But Ava just laughs, gaze dancing around the room as she says, “Trust me, Ever, theyall manage to find their way to their own funerals. I’ve yet to see the spirit who could resist! The chance to see who shows up, who says what, who wears what, and who’s truly mourning versus who’s merely just faking it—it’s pretty tempting stuff.”

“Are youtruly mourning?” I ask, not really meaning it in the way that it sounded, like she might be faking it or something. I mean, I’m mostly here to support Jude and to honor someone who was kind enough to help me at a time when I really needed it. But even though I know Lina was Ava’s employer, I have no idea if it went any deeper, if they were actually friends.

“If you’re asking if I’m mourning the loss of a kind, generous, compassionate, awakened soul”—she looks at me without blinking—“then the answer isyes, of course, why wouldn’t I be? But if you’re asking if my mourning’s more for her than for me—then I’m afraid the answer isno . The majority of my sadness is purely selfish.”

“That’s exactly what Jude said,” I mumble, my voice wistful, as I gaze around the room, searching for a glimpse of him.

Ava nods, tossing her mass of curls over her shoulders. “And when you lost your family, who did you mourn for the most?”

I look at her, surprised by the question. And even though I want to say that I mourned entirely for my parents and Buttercup and Riley’s unrealized dream of being a teenager and turning thirteen—I can’t do it. It’s simply not true. Even though I felt their loss in a horrible, gut-wrenching, deep-down kind of way, I have to admit that the majority of my sadness was due to the fact that I was left behind while they all moved on—away from me.

“Anyway.” Ava shrugs. “To go back to your original question,yes , I did see her. It was brief, only for a second really, but boy was it beautiful.” She smiles, her face lifting, cheeks flushing, as her eyes shine at the memory. And I’m just about to ask for a little more elaboration when she says, “It was right when Jude got up to speak. You remember the way he faltered and started to break down? When his voice cracked and he had to pause for a moment before he could start up again?”

I nod. I remember it well. Remember the way my heart broke for him at that very moment.

“Well, that’s when she appeared right behind him. Hovering just ever so slightly as she placed her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes, and surrounded him with a beautiful bubble of love and light. And I tell you, not a second later he was back on track, able to finish his eulogy without a problem as she faded from sight.”

I sigh, trying to imagine how that must’ve looked and wishing I could’ve seen it for myself. Gazing at Ava when I say, “Do you think he actuallyfelt it—her presence? I mean, obviously he felt it since it helped him get through it, but, like, do you think he wasaware of it? Do you think he knew it washer who helped him get through it?”

Ava shrugs, motioning past the glass doors toward the patch of grass where he stands, talking to a small group of Lina’s friends. His long hair spilling down his back and over the sleeves of his purple tee that bears a picture of some vaguely familiar, multicolored Hindu deity on its front.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she says. “I hear you two are growing much closer these days.”

I balk, my gaze immediately returning to her. Wondering if she actually meant it in the way that I think, and wondering who could’ve possibly informed her of that.

“Well, obviously you’ve been skipping school in order to fill in at the store, even though I’ve made it perfectly clear, many times over, that I’m more than happy to do it. And then, there’s the fact that Damen’s been looking pretty despondent these days—or at least that’s what I’ve gotten from the few glimpses I’ve had of him, though the twins have certainly confirmed it. They see him much more than I do, you know. What with him constantly whisking them off to the movies, or go-cart racing, or shopping at Fashion Island, or the water rides at Disneyland—just about every local Orange County attraction you can think of has been covered—at least twice. And as much as they love it, and as kind and generous as it is of him to do it, you really don’t have to dig all that deep to realize what’s really behind his sudden burst of altruism.” She pauses, looking right at me. “Clearly he’s looking for a distraction. Desperately trying to stay busy so he won’t obsess overyou , and the fact that you’re no longer there for him like you once were.”

My shoulders droop, all of me droops, thinking how the old me would’ve gotten very angry by now, would’ve already launched some ridiculous argument to defend myself or, at the very least, cut her off before she’d had a chance to say all of that.