The feeling of being watched became a constant, itchy presence on the back of my neck. I couldn't tell my parents; they'd think the stress of senior year was getting to me. I had only one person, but she was the source of the problem. I needed someone in the living world. I needed Leo.
Cornering him after PE class, I dragged him into the empty equipment room, the smell of old sweat and rubber mats filling the air. "Leo, I need you to be serious for one second."
"What's up? Finally gonna confess about your imaginary girlfriend?" he joked, bouncing a basketball.
"She's not imaginary," I said, my voice dead serious. The ball stopped bouncing. "She's a ghost. Her name is Luna Reyes, and she disappeared from this school in 1998."
I expected laughter, denial, a punch on the arm. Instead, Leo's face went pale. "Reyes? The story about the girl who vanished from the art room?"
My turn to be stunned. "You know it?"
"My lola tells that story to scare us into coming home before dark," he said, his usual bravado gone. "She says the girl's spirit still looks for her lost sketchbook." He looked at my backpack, where the sketchbook was hidden. "Dude. No."
I told him everything. The conversations, the plaza, the flickering light, the research. His eyes grew wider with each detail. When I finished, he was silent for a full minute, the only sound the distant shouts from the basketball court.
"You're either completely insane," he finally said, "or this is the coolest thing that has ever happened to anyone, ever." He took a deep breath. "What do you need me to do?"
Relief washed over me so powerfully my knees felt weak. I had an ally.