Come play with the house.
"I don't want to," Tyler said, curled up on the window seat, staring at her book.
Then I'll play by myself.
"I don't mind."
Her gaze was on the pages, not seeing them. Maybe Mommy was right, she thought. Maybe she was getting too old to keep playing with Maggie. She wasn't imaginary, casting a sideways look at the translucent girl crouched by the house. She was real.
Ring around the rosy. A pocketful of posies … Maggie's voice ghosted, sweetly tuneful as she moved the tiny playground toys. And you … fall … down.