Chapter Eighteen: The Young and the Dead “Before we get started, why don’t you tell me what they said when you talked to them previously.” Lucy knelt on the grass, settling the skirt of her sundress around her. “I haven’t talked to them, Luce.” Jo dropped down beside her cousin, stretching her legs out and absently plucking at the blades of grass. “That’s why I need you. You know I don’t see them the way you do.” Lucy made a face. “You don’t see them because you aren’t looking.” “I see them,” she said, waving a hand at Wyatt. “They’re in his left shoulder. But I don’t see them. Not as, like, people. They’re marbles.” “They look like marbles because you’re looking for marbles,” Lucy insisted. “Look for ghosts. Look for kids. Look for the traces of life.” Jo’s expression turned mulish. “How exactly is this helping Wyatt?” Lucy smiled sweetly. “I’m helping you help Wyatt. Now, look.” Jo opened her second sight, looking for all she was worth, but she still only saw two small, vibrating green marbles rolling around in Wyatt’s rotator cuff.
