David, Juan, and Rajesh headed down the street to see the old mansion at the bottom of the hill. The boys had dressed up for Halloween. David had wrapped Ace bandages around his arms and legs to make him look like a mummy. Juan wore a cowboy hat and carried two plastic, silver-colored pistols. Rajesh wore a black cape and carried a plastic lightsaber.

Although David’s family was Jewish, his parents allowed him to tag along with his non-Jewish friends for Halloween. “Just be careful,” his mother said when she heard where they were headed.

As they walked, they shared stories about their family traditions. “In Mexico, we go to the cemetery on Día de Muertos,” Juan said. “We put flowers and fruit on the graves. We pray to the dead and hope their souls will see that we remember them.”

David shuddered. “That sounds scary.”

“Naw,” Juan said, laughing. “It’s fun. Like a big party, only in the graveyard.”

“We have a holiday like that in India,” Rajesh said. “We put out special food for the spirits of our ancestors so they can go to heaven. What about you, David? Does your family believe in ghosts and spirits?”

David thought for a moment. “No one knows if there are ghosts,” he said. “Some rabbis say ‘yes’. Some rabbis say ‘no’.”

“I agree with the guys who say yes,” Juan said. “What do you think?”

As David was about to answer, they came to the old mansion at the bottom of the hill. The building had been neglected for years. Shingles were missing. The paint was peeling, and an attic window was broken. The yard was overgrown with tall grass and weeds. A casual onlooker might assume the place was abandoned, but David believed someone lived there. He had occasionally seen a dim light shining through the grimy windows at night.

David felt a lump in his throat. “Looks spooky.”

A chilly wind blew through the oak and maple trees, sending a flurry of brown and yellow leaves to the darkening street. This was the oldest part of town, hidden away in a tree-covered hollow.

They hesitated in front of an old, rickety gate that barred their entrance to a paved path that led to the front door.

“Look out!” someone yelled behind them. The boys jumped back in time to avoid being hit by a girl on a bicycle. She mashed on the brakes and brought her bike to a screeching halt.

“You scared us!” David said.

The girl laughed. “Didn’t see you in the dark,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

The girl was about the same age as the boys. Her brown hair was braided into pigtails. Her yellow cotton shirt and worn denim bib overalls looked like something out of an old photograph.

“We’re trick-or-treating,” David said.

“No one’s home,” the girl said, smiling.

“Who are you, and how do you know no one’s home?” Rajesh asked.

“You ask so many questions. My name is Francine, but my friends call me ‘Frankie’. I know no one is home because I live here.”

“You live here in this broken-down place?” Rajesh asked.

“Lived here all my life.”

“Where’s the rest of your family?” David asked.

Frankie’s eyes seemed to focus on something far away. “Everyone is gone. They’ve all gone out.”

“Where?”

“That’s a good question. Now are you coming or not?” Frankie said as she pushed the gate open with her bike’s front tire.

The boys followed Frankie down the paved pathway. The pale light of the streetlights barely reached the old mansion. Darkness cloaked the house in a thick, black shroud. Time seemed to slow.

Juan stuck out his arms. “Everybody stop. Where did the girl go?”

David hadn’t noticed the girl disappear in the darkness, but Juan was right. She was nowhere to be seen. “There’s her bike,” he said, pointing to the porch. “I guess she went inside.”

The steps leading to the porch were busted and missing boards. They had to step carefully to avoid falling through.

“Look,” Rajesh said. “The door is open. She must be inside.”

“I’m right here, silly,” Frankie said.

The boys turned to see Frankie sitting in an old, wooden porch swing. She was swinging back and forth. A rusted chain that held the swing squeaked loudly, echoing eerily through the quiet hollow.

“Aren’t you going to knock?” Frankie asked, smiling.

“You said no one is home,” David said.

“You’re right. No one is here but me.”

“We’re here too,” David said.

“Yes, but that’s different,” Frankie said.

Suddenly, a car pulled up in front of the house. David’s mother got out of the car. “David! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s past ten. Juan and Rajesh’s parents are looking for them too.”

A blast of wind swept the yard. The limbs of the trees swayed, and a flurry of falling leaves filled the air. The boys turned to look at Frankie, but the porch swing swayed, empty. The rusted chain gave one last squeak, its echo fading into the night. A chill in the air made David’s skin feel cold and clammy. He shivered.

Stunned by the sudden disappearance of the mysterious girl, the boys walked quietly to the waiting car. “I guess the rabbis who believe in ghosts are right,” David said.

As they drove away, David thought he could see a girl in a yellow shirt and faded denim bibs swinging back and forth on the old, wooden porch swing. Then the house was hidden from view as they drove out of the tree-covered hollow.