Coming Home by David Lewis

explained. “Has anyone ever lived there?” she asked, gesturing toward her house.
    “Not since we’ve been here,” Laura replied.
    The wind had picked up considerably, and a soft clanging sound broke through the Sunday afternoon stillness. Another memory flickered at the edge of her mind.
    “What’s wrong with your eyes?” Laura asked suddenly. Jessie shrugged. “They puff up sometimes.”
    “Cool.”
    “Oh … yeah,” Jessie murmured wryly.
    Laura shrugged. “When did you live there?”
    “Twelve years ago.”
    “Wow. I’m only ten!”
    “I was best friends with the boy who lived in your house,” Jessie said, pulling Molly’s ears down, sending her to doggy heaven. “You probably have his room, you know, the one on the second floor… .” Jessie pointed toward Andy’s window.
    Laura’s eyes grew wide. “No way!”
    “Way,” Jessie rebutted, laughing.
    “Are you … it can’t be … are you Jessie?”
    “How’d you know?”
    Laura giggled. “This is so cool. I always wondered who Jessie was and here you are, you just show up! That’s so cool!”
    Jessie laughed with her, but her curiosity was bursting at the seams.
    “It’s in my room,” Laura explained. “My closet. It’s carved in the wood, you know, behind the door.”
    “What is?”
    “Your name.”
    Jessie had forgotten how she and Andy had secretly carved their names with his pocketknife. Mrs. McCormick had not been pleased, mostly because Jessie had been in Andy’s room. And then she heard the flagpole clanging.
    “Was he your boyfriend or something?”
    “No.” Again, the ringing of the flagpole. “We were only twelve or so.”
    “Well … I’m only ten,” Laura said again, as if twelve were plenty old.
    “Don’t you hear that?” Jessie asked.
    “Sure, that’s the flagpole at my school. Noisy, isn’t it?”
    Jessie nodded. “That’s where I used to wait for him. Then we’d walk home after school together.”
    Laura smiled slyly, “You liked him, didn’t you?”
    “How old are you again?”
    “I told you already,” Laura said, kneeling to help rub Molly. “I like Robby,” she whispered.
    “Robby, huh? Does he like you back?”
    “I don’t know,” Laura said, shrugging. “Sometimes, he acts weird around me, like yesterday when he stole my chocolate chip cookie and I had to chase him around the lunchroom to get it back.”
    “Annoying, huh?”
    “He can be so annoying,” Laura said.
    “He likes you,” Jessie announced with a grin.
    Laura brightened. “You think?”
    “ I know .” She paused. “But you’re way too young to have a boyfriend. You need to wait … twenty years or so.”
    Laura made a face. “Twenty years? I’ll be …” She concentrated hard. “I’ll be …”
    “You’ll be old enough to pick out a really nice boy who won’t break your heart.”
    “All the cute ones’ll be taken by then.”
    “Good point.”
    “I like ghost stories,” Laura admitted suddenly, as if explaining her fascination with the house.
    “Maybe you shouldn’t read so many of them, sweetie.”
    “Maybe you’re a ghost!” Laura exclaimed. “I mean, for all I know, you died and you’ve come back to haunt your old house.”
    Jessie winced. “So I’m dead now?”
    “And you wouldn’t even know it,” Laura replied matter-offactly, as if offering common knowledge. “And maybe that’s why Molly likes you, because dogs can see ghosts, you know. And ghosts come back to their favorite places. Maybe next time I’ll see you at the flagpole.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you said you waited there a lot. Maybe that’s why you really came back. You know, to keep waiting there … for Andy. That’s what a ghost does; it keeps doing the things it used to do when it was alive.”
    “Sweetie …” Jessie began. Laura had taken this ghost idea way too far.
    “I know, I know,” Laura said, shrugging. “Mom says I’m mental.”
    Jessie reached out and touched Laura’s shoulder gently, putting as