Jack didn't return for the rest of the day, but that evening, as I sat at my desk trying to focus on my English assignment, a faint tappity tap could be heard from the attic above. I'd been so terrified the first time I'd heard those sounds, but now they were a source of contentment, like snuggling in bed with your favorite fluffy blanket. I was never alone when I was in this house. Strange for someone who was normally fine with solitude to also find the constant presence of another comforting.

The next day, I snuck up to the attic while my parents were eating breakfast, just long enough to let Jack know I'd be gone all day.

"But, didn't you say it was Saturday?"

"It is. And it's also the grand opening of the horribly named but hopefully wildly successful Mazzeria Pizzeria. Believe me, I'd rather hang out with you and watch bad movies all day but I'm not getting out of this one. I've gotta help out, or I'm going to look like the worst daughter in the world. Plus, Kayla will be pissed at me if I don't come."

"We wouldn't want that." He slumped back against the wall next to his favorite attic window. I wondered if he could feel the wood pressed against his back, considering he didn't really have a back. Touchy subject for a reluctant ghost.

"At least I'll be working with her. If we come up with any more ideas on your case, I'll let you know when I get home tonight. Don't wait up, though."

He stared at me with his sad puppy eyes, his lashes appearing twice as long as usual in the shadows cast by the eastern sunlight. "It's nice how hard you work to try to solve, well, to try to solve me. Fix me. Send me to the beyond or whatever. Sometimes I wonder if I'm wasting your time."

"What? No! Never. I want to do this. So does Kayla. And we will, um, solve you. Just give us time."

He nodded and turned his gaze back out the front window. "Tell Kayla I said hello."

#

It wasn't until several hours after my parents and I arrived at the restaurant that I had a chance to pull Kayla aside. Carlo and Becca kept me busy, scrubbing surfaces, setting tables, trying to figure out how to get the admittedly cool maze-themed retro pinball machine set up and operational. While I was doing that, Kayla called venders, ordered more supplies, and made some last-minute changes to the day's specials. "We couldn't get the right assortment of olives. Something about an issue with a processing plant in California. So, that's a no to the anti-pasta salad, which is going to thoroughly disappoint our head chef. Hold on."

She walked into the kitchen and returned a minute later. "Okay, that's taken care of. Turns out Alvin wanted to try out a sundried tomato and mushroom bruschetta anyways, so he was only mildly pissed about the olives. Now talk, Mazie... I've got about three minutes."

Talking at twice my usual speed, I told her I'd narrowed down our dance school options to two.

Kayla seemed happy about my progress. "Let's try the one in Silverdale first, what was it called again?"

"Little Dancers, Big Dreams. There's a tap class this Monday afternoon at four."

"Perfect. Let's go."

"Maybe we won't need to, though." I told her my plan to feign interest in taking classes to Blake when I saw him on Monday.

"Not bad, Mazie. Okay, so why don't we plan on going to the school only if you don't manage to get the information you need straight from Blake. Oh, and you'll probably have a chance to talk to him before school on Monday. I'm sure his family will be here for the opening."

"What?" My face started to heat like I was bent over a campfire.

"This is just the sort of thing Blake's sister would go for, and she loved Dornzeria. I'd bet money she begs her parents to attend tonight. Maybe Blake won't come with, though."

I twisted a lock of my hair tight around my finger. I'd thought I'd have the rest of the weekend to practice exactly what I was going to say to him. Not that it was very complicated, but still, I always felt less nervous if I was prepared for something. And now his sister would be there too so it wouldn't be just lying to Blake, I'd be lying to a kid. The idea didn't set well. As I contemplate this, I realized Kayla was still talking.

"So really, I hope we can figure this all out before we run out of time."

"Out of time?"

"Yeah. Or, I mean, before Jack runs out of time and goes poof. He could go poof at any moment, you know."

"He's not a genie."

"I haven't totally ruled that one out. But the point is, we don't know that Jack's situation is permanent or if he has an expiration date. We should assume he does, just to keep the pressure on. Still, we're only two people and we have work and school."

"I know. Sometimes it seems like our progress is so slow. And I don't even know if we should call it progress or not. I don't know where our endpoint is, but I don't get the sense that Jack's about to leave us. If anything, he's becoming more present, more able to control his movements and walk freely around more parts of the house."

"Well, if he's gaining control of his coming and goings, then Mazie... you have to be prepared for the fact that he might leave voluntarily."

"Oh." I looked down at my feet, absentmindedly tapping against the floor in a way that reminded me of Jack.

"I know you're fond of him, but Jack might have a whole other life to move on to. If he figures out how to do that, then you have to figure out how to let him go."

Kayla returned to the kitchen and I spent the next several hours making floral arrangements for each table and helping my father put up the decorations Kayla had ordered. A long red and yellow banner reading "Mazzeria Grand Opening: get lost in a maze of authentic and delicious tastes!" was strung up from one corner of the restaurant's front to the other, just across from the cashier station.

It was difficult to say which of my parents was more nervous. At first, I thought it was my father, who asked me a dozen times if I thought his end of the sign was lower than mine and then nearly fell off of the stool he'd been standing on trying to get it just right. Then my mother dashed through the restaurant yelling "the chickens," her hair flapping loose from its ponytail, her mouth set to grimace.

I never did find out what that was all about. She came back five minutes later totally fine. The stress level of the staff and owners of Mazzeria was on par with the heart of an eighty-year-old running a marathon. We might all collapse and die before the doors opened.

That didn't happen, though, and right at five pm, a small crowd gathered on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant for the ribbon cutting ceremony. Somehow, Kayla had managed to convince the mayor, a woman in her late fifties with 1994 Hillary hair, to attend. Mayor Linton grasped a gigantic golden scissors over a satin bow held on either end by Carlo and Becca, who smiled for the local paper while the Mayor talked up the importance of their pizzeria and its capacity to have a lasting impact on Dorn. I had to wonder if Linton would have spoken those same words if she'd known the most lasting impact my parents had had on a town to date was when their old VW camper's engine overheated, causing a fire that eventually spread to three buildings.

Ceremony completed, the doors were propped open and Mazzeria was officially open. To my surprised, the place filled up fast. I helped seat people, which resulted in me putting on repeat the phrase "No, it's not named after me. It's just a coincidence." Hahaha.

"Mazie," my mom called to me as I led an older couple to a corner booth. "The band will be here soon. Show them where to put their things."

She pointed to the temporary stage that had been set up next to the pinball machine and the hall leading to the bathrooms.

"Who's the band."

"Oh, they're so adorable. One of them plays a stand-up base made from a metal tub and a broom handle. They call themselves The Juggernauts."

"You hired the jug band that busks on the corner?"

"Yes, how perfect is that? I have to get back to the kitchen. Hold down the fort, hon." She retreated to the back of the restaurant and I measured the status of my panic attack.

Breathe... breathe Mazie. The restaurant was too full. Too many people. They were going to eat up all their oxygen along with their maze-themed pizzas and then we'd all simultaneously fall over dead.

Breathe. Don't think about that. Someone tapped on my shoulder and I nearly put a Mazie-sized hole in our ceiling. I turned around, expecting new customers or musicians carrying guitar cases. I did not expect the tapper to be Blake Sumner. Despite Kayla insisting he might be here, Mazzeria didn't seem like a place the Junior Popular King would want to hang out in on a Saturday night.

"Hello, New Girl Mazie. I have arrived. It's now officially a party."