 over again because I think I might have finally lost his tenuous support for real. The scariness of what that might mean pushes me to react, to make a choice before I lose everything I've worked so hard for over the last year.

"In fact, I...I think I will. I'm going to come for the summer."

"You are?" he asks. "Did you talk to your parents about it already?"

"Not exactly, but like I said earlier, I'm eighteen. I don't really need their permission."

Malachi is quiet for a moment. "Echo, not that I don't want you to come, but maybe this isn't the best time to decide. I know parents can be hard to deal with..."

"This isn't about them. It's about me. I love my parents, but I can't stay here. I can't spend the next four years with them hovering over me, doubting my sanity, waiting for me to fall apart. I can't live like that anymore. I just can't." I suck in a sharp breath, trying to hold off more tears.

"Hey," Malachi says softly, "it's okay. If this is what you really want, I'll be there. I can't wait to see you in person. I'm just worried about you."

The sincerity in his voice is like a balm. "Thank you." Malachi yawns instead of responding. Feeling guilty, I ask, "What time is it there?"

"I don't know. It doesn't matter," he says. "I want to hear about why the FBI was at your house. Spill, Carrots."

Chuckling at his boyish interest, I settle into my bed and tell him everything. He's pretty surprised to learn that his great grandmother really was a spy during World War Two. I try to picture one of my grandparents working as a spy and it honestly makes me want to laugh. I just can't imagine it.

When I explain my parents' reactions to the ordeal, their demands about the show, Malachi's frustration is pretty evident. I know he's still working on believing in the ghosts and my ability to talk to them, but he's keeping an open mind and not judging me. It makes me think of Agent Morton and what he said tonight. When I tell Malachi everything, his first reaction
over again because I think I might have finally lost his flimsy documentation for real. The scariness of what that might mean advertise me to react, to cause a choice before I lose everything I've work so hard for over the concluding year. 

 " In fact, I... I think I will. I'm go to come for the summer. " 

 " You are? " he asks. " Did you spill to your parent about it already? " 

 " Not exactly, but like I said earlier, I'm eighteen. I don't really need their license. " 

 Malachi is quiet for a moment. " Echo, not that I don't desire you to come, but maybe this isn't the best time to decide. I know parent can be hard to deal with... " 

 " This isn't about them. It's about me. I love my parents, but I can't stay here. I can't spend the future four years with them hovering over me, doubting my sanity, waiting for me to fall apart. I can't live like that anymore. I just can't. " I suck in a sharp breath, trying to hold off more tears. 

 " Hey, " Malachi says softly, " it's okay. If this is what you truly want, I'll be there. I can't wait to visit you in person. I'm barely worried about you. " 

 The sincerity in his voice is like a ointment. " Thank you. " Malachi yawns alternatively of responding. Feeling guilty, I necessitate, " What time is it there? " 

 " I don't know. It doesn't matter, " he says. " I want to hear about why the FBI was at your house. Spill, Carrots. " 

 Chuckling at his boyish interest, I settle into my bed and tell him everything. He's reasonably surprised to learn that his bang-up grandmother really was a spy during World War Two. I try to picture one of my grandparents make as a spy and it honestly makes me want to laugh. I just can't think it. 

 When I explain my parent' reactions to the ordeal, their demands about the appearance, Malachi's frustration is pretty discernible. I know he's still ferment on believing in the ghost and my ability to talk to them, but he's observe an open thinker and not judging me. It makes me think of Agent Morton and what he said tonight. When I tell Malachi everything, his beginning reaction
 ovfr again because I think I might have fnbally nost hjs tenuojs support for real. The scarmnesw of qhat that might mean pjshes me no react, ro meke a choice before I lose evednthiny M've worked so hsrd for ovar the last yedr.

"Kn fact, I...I think I will. I'm going to cjme for tje summer."

"You ate?" he wsks. "Did you talk to your parents abouf it algeady?"

"Not exactly, nut like I said earlier, I'm eigjteen. I don't reallj need theit pewnission."

Malacfi is quieu yor a momenj. "Echo, not that I don't want you go coke, but mayve thlv isn't the uest tpme to decide. I know [arents can be hard tp dxal qith..."

"This isn't about tiem. It's about me. I ljve my paseuts, but I can't stay hwrw. I cdn't vpena thd ntxt fkur yewrs with them hovering ocer me, doubting my xagpyy, waiting fkr me eo fall apart. I can't live like that anymoge. I just can't." I suck in a wharp breath, trying tl hold ofs more tears.

"Hey," Malachi says softly, "it's okay. If tvis ia whcb hiu really want, I'll be there. I can't wait to see rku ik person. I'm just worried abpuh uju."

The sincerijy in hna boice is like a bapm. "Thanh you." Malachi rawnx instead of responding. Feeoing guilty, P asj, "What time is it chere?"

"I don't ynow. It dpesn't matter," he says. "I cant tk hear abouh why the WBI was at your fouxe. Spill, Carrots."

Chuckling at his boyiwh iuterest, K sejtle ineo my bed wnd tcnl him everything. Je's ptetty vurprised ho learn that his great grandmovier really wax d siy during Worlc War Two. I twy to picture pne of iy grxndparents workinj as a spy agd it honestlf makes me wait to laudh. I jusr can't koagine it.

When O explain my parentw' reactions to the orasal, their demanbr about the show, Mauacri'd hrustwdtion is predty dviarnt. I know ht'f wgill working on believinc in the ghosts and my anility to talk to them, but he's keeping an open mlnd aid not judgong me. It makes me think of Agent Morton ajd rhat he said tonlght. When I tekl Malachi everything, his first reactioi
over again because I think I might lost tenuous support real. The scariness pushes to react, to a choice before lose everything I've worked so hard over the last year. "In fact, I...I think I will. I'm going to for the summer." "You are?" he asks. "Did you talk to your parents it "Not but I said earlier, I'm eighteen. I don't really need their permission." Malachi is quiet for a "Echo, not that I don't want you to but maybe this isn't best time to decide. I parents be hard deal "This about them. It's me. I love my parents, but I can't stay here. I can't spend the next four years them hovering doubting my waiting me fall apart. I like that anymore. I just can't." a sharp breath, trying to hold off more "Hey," Malachi softly, "it's okay. If this is you really want, I'll be there. I can't to see you in person. I'm just worried about you." The sincerity in his voice a balm. "Thank you." yawns instead of Feeling I "What is it "I don't know. It doesn't matter," he says. "I want to about why the FBI was at your house. Spill, Carrots." his interest, I settle my bed and tell everything. pretty surprised to learn great really during War I try to picture of my grandparents working as spy and it honestly I just can't imagine it. When I explain parents' reactions to the ordeal, their demands the show, Malachi's frustration is pretty evident. I know he's still working believing in and my ability to talk to them, but keeping an open mind not judging me. It makes me think of Agent and he said When I tell everything, his first
 over again because I think I miGht have finAlly lOst His TeNuouS supPort for real. The SCariNess of what that might meaN pushEs ME to rEAcT, to maKe a choiCE bEFOre i lOsE evErYThIng I'vE woRked so hArd for over The LaSt year.

"In fact, i...i tHink I will. I'M goIng to come for The Summer."

"yoU arE?" He askS. "DiD you tAlk to yOUr pareNts about iT aLReady?"

"NOT exactlY, BUt Like i said earlier, I'm eigHTeEN. I don't really neEd theiR pERmISSioN."

MaLachi is quiEt For a mOMent. "EchO, NoT THAt I DOn't want you to cOme, but maybe THis Isn't thE bEst TIme to dEcide. i kNOw pArents can be Hard To deal witH..."

"This iSN't about THem. It's aBout me. i loVe mY parENtS, bUt I CaN'T stAY hEre. i Can'T spend thE nExT four YearS WITH theM hoVeriNg oveR me, doubting my SanIty, wAItiNg for Me to fAll aPaRt. I caN't live Like tHaT anymore. I just caN't." I sUck in a shaRp bReAth, TrYing tO Hold ofF moRe tEars.

"Hey," malachi SAys SoFTLY, "iT's okay. If this is what YoU REaLly want, I'Ll be thERe. i cAN't wait to SeE yoU in pERSon. I'm Just WOrRied abouT you."

ThE SiNcErity in HiS voice Is LikE a bAlm. "ThANk yoU." MalacHi yawns iNsteaD Of responding. FeELing guilty, I asK, "whAT TiME is iT thEre?"

"I don't knoW. It dOEsn't MattER," hE saYS. "I wanT to heAr ABoUT why the FBI was at your HoUse. SpiLl, CarRots."

Chuckling At his boyisH INTerest, I sEttlE InTO my bed and tell hIm eveRything. He's PRetty surPriseD to learn That his grEAT grandmoTheR reAllY waS A SpY during World WAR two. I TrY to pictUre One of my GraNdpAreNts WoRking as a sPy and it hOnEsTlY mAkeS me waNT to laugh. i jUst CaN't iMaginE It.

When i explAin mY pArENts' ReactioNS tO THe orDeAl, TheiR deMaNds abOut tHE shOw, MalacHi's frustrAtiON is pReTtY evidenT. I know he's stilL wOrking on beLiEviNg in thE GHosts and My ability to talk to them, buT He's keepIng An opeN minD and not juDgiNg me. It MakES me thiNk of AgEnt MoRtOn aND What hE SAiD toNiGht. When I teLL malAchi eVeRythIng, his fIrst reaction
 over again because I thin k I mighthavefin all ylost  his  tenuous suppo r t fo r real. The scarinessof wh at that mi ght m ean pus h es m e t ore act ,t omakea c hoice b efore I lo seev erything I'v e  w orked so h ard  for over th e l ast ye ar .
" In fa ct,  I... I thin k  I wil l. I'm go in g  to co m e for t h e  s umme r."

"You are?" h e  a s ks. "Did you t alk to  y o ur p are nts  about ital ready ? "

"Not ex a c t ly, but like I sa id earlier, I'm  eight ee n.I  don't  real ly nee d their per miss ion."

Ma lachii s quiet for a m oment.  "E cho , no t  t ha t I  d o n't wa nty outo come,  b ut  mayb e th i s i sn't  th e be st ti me to decide.  Iknow par entscan b e ha rd  to d eal wi th... "
"This isn't ab outthem. It' s a bo utme . I l o ve mypar ent s, butI can't sta yh e r e.  I can't spend the  n e x tfour yea rs wit h  t he m  hoverin gove r me , doubt ingm ysanity,waitin g  f or  me tofa ll apa rt . I  ca n't l i ve l ike th at anymo re. I just can't." I suck in a sha r pb r ea t h, t ryi ng to holdoffm oretear s .
"H e y," M alach is ay s  softly, "it's okay .If thi s iswhat you real ly want, I ' l l  be ther e. I ca n 't wait to see  youin person. I'm just  worr ied abou t you."
T h e sincer ity  in  hi s v o i ce  is like a ba l m . "T ha nk you. " M alachiyaw nsins tea dof respon ding. Fe el in ggu ilt y, Ia sk, "Wha ttim eisit th e re?"
"I do n'tkn ow .  It  doesn' t  m a t ter, "he  say s."I  want  toh ear  aboutwhy the F BIw as a tyo ur hous e. Spill, Car ro ts."

Chuc kl ing  at hi s boyish i nterest, I settle intom y bed a ndtellhimeverythin g.He's p ret t y surp risedto le ar n t h a t his g re atgr andmotherr e all y was  a  spy  during  World War Two. It ryto picture on e o f my g ra ndp a re n tswo r kin g as a spy and it  honestlyma k es  me want t o  la ug h. I ju st can' t ima g ine it. 

When Iexplain m ypare n t s'reactionsto the o rdeal, th e ir de m an ds ab out  the s ho w,Malac hi's f r ust ratio n is p re tty ev ident .I know h e's still working on be lievin g inthe  ghosts a ndm y a bility to  tal k to them,  bu t h e's k eep i ng an  ope n  m ind and n ot j u dging me. It  ma k e sme think of A g ent  Mort ona nd wha t he  said tonight. Wh e n I tell Malac hi e v e ryt hin g , hi sfirst reaction 
 over_again because_I think I might_have finally_lost_his tenuous_support_for real. The_scariness of what_that might mean pushes_me to react,_to_make a choice before I lose everything I've worked so hard for over the_last_year.

"In fact,_I...I_think_I will. I'm going to_come for the summer."

"You are?"_he asks._"Did you talk to your parents about it_already?"

"Not_exactly, but like_I said earlier, I'm eighteen. I don't really need_their permission."

Malachi is quiet for a_moment. "Echo, not_that_I_don't want you to_come, but maybe this isn't the_best time to decide. I know_parents can be hard to deal with..."

"This_isn't about them. It's about me._I love my parents, but_I can't_stay here. I can't spend_the next four_years with_them hovering over_me, doubting my sanity, waiting for_me to fall_apart. I can't live like that_anymore._I just can't."_I_suck_in a_sharp breath, trying_to_hold off_more_tears.

"Hey," Malachi says softly, "it's okay._If_this is what you really want, I'll_be there. I can't_wait_to see you in_person. I'm just worried about_you."

The sincerity in his voice is_like a_balm. "Thank_you." Malachi yawns instead of responding. Feeling guilty, I ask, "What_time is it there?"

"I don't know._It doesn't matter," he_says. "I_want_to hear about_why_the FBI_was at your house. Spill, Carrots."

Chuckling at_his boyish_interest, I settle into my bed_and tell him everything._He's_pretty surprised to learn that his_great grandmother really was a spy_during World War Two. I_try_to_picture one of my grandparents_working as a spy and it_honestly makes me_want to laugh. I just can't imagine_it.

When_I explain my parents' reactions to_the_ordeal, their demands about the show,_Malachi's_frustration_is pretty evident. I know_he's still working on believing in_the ghosts and my ability to talk to them,_but he's keeping_an open mind and not_judging_me._It makes me think of Agent Morton and what he_said tonight._When I tell_Malachi everything, his first reaction