I wasn't used to being called 'Sweetie'� by girls my age, but that was the least of what confused me. I realized suddenly that she was still holding my hand, and looked down at it. Faintly, very faintly, I could see my own hand through hers before I jerked it back.
I regretted it when I saw her expression.
'I'm sorry,'� I said, but she waved it off and flounced onto the bench again.
'I should have known this would happen,'� she said quietly, looking at her feet. It makes perfect sense when I think about it.'�
'You don't talk like a little girl,'� I said.
'Well I'm not really a little girl, you see.'�
'Yes you are.'�
'I was a little girl when I died, but that was a long time ago.'�
'So you don't get any bigger after you die?'� I asked.
'The rules aren't the same for dead people. It takes a long time for us to learn how to change at all. Sometimes we don't know we are dead for years '� or well, we know we are dead but can't seem to admit it to ourselves. We can be silly like that.'�
'That is silly. I mean, don't people treat you differently because you're a ghost and all? Don't they run away?'� I was actually wondering about my own courage. It felt like I was talking to somebody from school or a neighborhood friend.
'Oh, most people can't see us at all,'� she said. They might hear us faintly or feel cold when we are near. They might contemplate the wrinkles on their arms or suddenly think about taxes, but they almost never see us unless we put forth a great deal of effort to be seen.'�
'Why can I see you then?'� I asked. 'Is it very hard for you?'�
'Ah '� hmm, well, there are certain exceptions,'� she said, looking away.
'Exceptions? You mean sometimes people can see you anywa'�.'�
'Yes, that's right,'� she interrupted. 'What are you and your dad doing here so late anyway?'�
'Daddy calls it inventory, but I think it's because Momma threw a 5 pound bag of sugar at his head.'�
Virgee smiled and the air around her felt warmer, so I smiled too.
'She's kind of little,'� I said 'so I think she meant it.'�

That's the first time I remember seeing Virgee, but we spent most days together after that ' always outside despite the heat. Virgee didn't care about the temperature of course, and I was so skinny that a quick garden hose shower left me shivering in the still air of noon.
There is something about the air around a haunted house in Florida that I cannot forget. Anybody who has lived through a Florida summer knows how the heat and humidity can create a preternatural stillness, but there, around that house, was something altogether different. When Virgee and I would sprint through the meadows and cow-fields that bordered the store, grasshoppers and locust would whir away from us through the thick air. The doves would call their longing from border oaks and over the tall grasses, but 20 yards from the house, a strange wall stood invisible before the assault of any normal sounds. I was surprised how grownups overlooked the absence of highway noise. The front parking lot of the store ran right up to the road.
Five times a day I would drip beside the east wing spigot with the hose in my hand. A water shadow disappeared into the dirt around me while the house listened to my heartbeat. Virgee and I would just stand there staring at nothing in particular until the house released us to scurry away through cement statuary and lawn ornaments arranged like a cemetery on the east side.

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