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Peace Valley, Wisconsin, was a small rural town and, on the whole, a pleasant place to live. Aside from the occasional ghostly encounter, it rarely saw any serious crime.
Most of the time, Peace Valley's police were so bored by the town's crime-free nature that they practically begged the old gods and the new for something to happen.
But only two people knew one of those police fantasies was no joke. A major crime at Waverly High in the late eighties had been buried so fast that almost no one realized something unforgivable had happened.
But secrets and lies stay buried only so long...
A glamorous woman stood outside an expensive home in one of Peace Valley's influential neighborhoods. Blonde, slim, and dressed to impress, she fixed her green eyes on the magnificent three-story French Renaissance mansion before her. "Ah, home sweet home!" she gushed. Then again, she had never expected to return to this backwater town.
"Mom? Isn't this a bit much?" a teenage girl called.
The woman turned and saw her fifteen-year-old daughter standing beside her Porsche. "Chloe, what do you mean, too much? This house is your grandfather's inheritance."
The slender teen tugged nervously at her ponytail. "It's too much for me, even if it'll be mine someday. It gives me bad vibes, and you know I don't like flashy things."
Her mother pinched the bridge of her nose. She would never forgive her ex-husband for filling their daughter's head with such low-class ideas. "Bring in some things from the car and put them in your new room while I call to see what's taking the movers so long. This place has been empty for decades, but I intend to make it Peace Valley's crown jewel again."
Sighing, Chloe carried a suitcase and backpack into the mansion. After exploring the house, she claimed a smaller, cozier bedroom that suited her style and promptly fell asleep from the long drive.
It took the rest of the week for mother and daughter to settle in. Chloe's mother barely slept, too busy turning the mansion into her personal castle, while Chloe arranged her room, talked nightly with her dad, and met the neighbors, who liked her far more than her haughty mother.
On Monday morning, Chloe slipped into her favorite outfit, including the green jacket her grandmother had made for her, grabbed her backpack, and quietly left for school before her mother woke up.
She loved the dew-scented air and peaceful silence. The only odd thing was what a neighbor had told her after she helped carry in groceries: Peace Valley had ghosts. The neighbor had warned her about Spirit, the mysterious ghost girl said to protect the town, along with the many other spirits that wandered its streets.
To her right, she spotted one of them: the town nuisance, the Mailman, who always delivered mail at the strangest hours. Instead of avoiding him, she walked over. "Good morning, young lady. Looking for a special delivery?" he asked eagerly.
"Actually, I have something to deliver to you." She pulled a small box from her bag. Inside were six doughnuts.
"Why, thank you! How did you know glazed doughnuts were my favorite?"
"I heard it from around town, that's all. Have a nice day, Mr. Mailman!"
She waved goodbye and continued to school. She arrived at 8 a.m. sharp and headed to Principal Ricardez's office. "Buenos días, Principal Ricardez," Chloe said politely.
The principal smiled. "Buenos días, Chloe. Hablas español?"
"A little. My dad wanted me to learn some conversational Spanish."
"That's wonderful. Many students never learn a second language."
Chloe laughed nervously. "I'm not fluent. If you spoke quickly, I'd get lost."
Principal Ricardez chuckled. "Then we'll stick to English."
"Probably best."
The principal gestured for her to sit. "Starting at a new school can be intimidating, but I think you'll do just fine at Waverly. To help you settle in, I've asked a student to show you around. Her name is Ceci Masters."
Chloe relaxed slightly. "That's very kind of her."
"It is. Ceci has a habit of helping new students." A knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Principal Ricardez called. A teenage girl with a pink bow woven into her braid stepped inside. "Perfect timing, Ceci. I'd like you to meet Chloe Reed."
Meanwhile, in the out-of-order girls' bathroom, the school ghost Irma Edmonds tried not to cry. This was the hardest week of her afterlife: Friday was her deathday anniversary.
The 80s ghost girl finally broke down. Stupid Ella Woods murdered me! It didn't matter that the airhead had only spiked her drink with pineapple juice—she had still used Irma's allergy to kill her. If not for that rich snob, Irma would still be alive. Instead, she was a ghost, cut off from her family. Thinking about her sister's family and her niece Lyndsay only made it hurt more.
"Ugh..." she whispered, wiping her face as she blinked hard behind her glasses. "This is so bogus." A hiccup caught in her throat, and she quickly cleaned her lenses on her sleeve like that could fix anything else too. Her voice dropped lower as she looked down at the floor.
"Why today? Why now... like, seriously..." She went still for a moment, shoulders tightening as she tried to breathe through it. "I hate this," she said quietly. "So not cool. Totally not okay. I can't do this alone again... I need Ceci. Maybe I can catch her before homeroom," she muttered, already shifting her focus. "Okay, Ceci—fountain side. Just go. Don't overthink it. Totally got this..."
She zipped into the pipes, trying to outrun the ache in her chest, but grief didn't move in straight lines. A turn came too soon—or she misjudged it—and she drifted into the wrong part of the building. "Okay—nope," she said at once. "That is so not right. That is, like, majorly not the fountain route."
She adjusted, trying again, but even the pipes felt off, like the school itself had tilted slightly out of place and refused to straighten back out. When she finally steadied herself, she caught sight of Ceci near a row of lockers. Except she wasn't alone. Another girl stood with her, back turned, close enough that something about the moment made Irma freeze midair.
"Okay—wait," she said sharply under her breath. "Why is Ceci here... and what the heck is she doing at Ella Woods's old locker? That's, like... totally not cool."
Curiosity pulled Irma behind a trophy case near cursed locker 22. Peeking around it and seeing who Ceci was talking to made her ectoplasm boil and her green eyes flash red. How had Ella Woods come back after all these decades to haunt her afterlife? Aside from a different hairstyle and clothes, Ella looked exactly like the same fifteen-year-old girl who had made Irma's life hell—and seemed ready to do it again.
The first bell rang and students rushed toward homeroom. Staying invisible, Irma tracked Ella and Ceci as they moved through the hall. Ceci led her into the same homeroom Irma remembered from when she and Ella had been students there before.
Irma phased through the wall and settled on a bookcase at the back of the classroom, keeping her green eyes fixed on her old bully. Something still felt off to her. Ella had always been someone who demanded attention constantly, someone who made sure everyone in the room noticed her. So why did she seem more reserved now? And why was she wearing green? She had always hated that color except for her eyes, and she would never have chosen it for anything else.
Irma followed her through the rest of the day, still unsettled. The longer she watched, the harder it became to fit what she was seeing with what she remembered. This girl, despite looking exactly like Ella Woods, did not behave like her at all.
When she watched her eat lunch with Ceci, she was polite and soft-spoken, more interested in listening than being the center of attention. Later, she helped the librarian reshelve books, complimented the lunch lady, and instead of being driven home like Ella used to be, she simply walked.
For the next three days, Irma watched the girl with growing curiosity, trying to figure out what she was missing. It wasn’t until Thursday that it finally clicked: this had to be Ella’s daughter.
Irma smirked to herself. So, the mean genes had skipped a generation. She had also learned the girl’s name—Chloe. Irma made a split-second decision before Chloe could leave for home. She flew up behind her and gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “Um, Chloe, can I talk to you, please?” she asked.
Chloe froze and turned slowly. “Sure… who are you?” Her eyes landed on Irma, and she tensed. “Are you Spirit?”
“No,” Irma said. “But she’s pretty much my only friend. I was hoping we could talk by the old apple tree for five minutes.”
“Okay, I’m a good listener,” Chloe said after a beat. “What’s your name, by the way?”
As they took the back way out of the building, the ghost hesitated before answering. “It’s Irma. Irma Edmonds.” She watched Chloe closely for any reaction to the name, but there was none.
As the two girls settled down on the grass, Chloe reached into her backpack. “I’m not sure about all the rules of being a real ghost, so I hope this isn’t offensive,” she said, offering a bag of nacho-flavored chips. “Ceci Masters, my assigned helper, said the school vending machine nacho chips are to die for. Oops—sorry, shouldn’t have used that phrase.”
“I appreciate your sensitivity,” Irma said as she took them carefully. “But yeah, when I was a student here, I loved these. And ghosts can eat human food as long as we infuse it with ecto-energy.” A green glow enveloped the bag, and she popped one chip in her mouth.
“So, Irma, why did you want to talk to me?” Chloe asked politely with a warm smile.
Irma took a breath, still squirming. “This might come out of nowhere, but is your mother by chance named Ella Woods?”
“How do you know my mother?” Chloe asked, confusion spreading across her face.
Irma continued, steady but uneasy. “Did you know your mother once attended this very school? Did you know she used to bully people? Did she ever tell you—or anyone—that she caused a student’s death by spiking their apple juice with pineapple, resulting in a massive allergic reaction and someone dying?”
Chloe’s eyes got huge upon hearing the words death and dying. “I was never told this. But how do you know that? How can you be so sure?”
“Because I was the one she killed.” Chloe was struck dumb by Irma’s words, but even through the shock she could tell the ghost girl wasn’t lying.
A voice suddenly cut through the moment. “Irma? What’s going on?” A pale-skinned girl with pink eyes and cyan-blue hair flew up beside them.
“Hello, Spirit. Been forever,” Irma replied, then added, “This is the new girl, Chloe Reed, and she happens to be the daughter of the bully who caused my death.”
Spirit gasped. Before anyone else could speak, Chloe stood up. “Look, before we all get tangled up in this, how about we just go to my house and make my mom finally own up to what she did? The truth sets you free, right? And my dad always says everyone is responsible for their actions and the consequences of them.”
“Let’s go then,” Irma said. “Spirit, mind giving Chloe a lift?” Spirit nodded and lifted Chloe easily into the air.
Ten minutes later, they were back at the mansion. Ella had been snapping at people on her phone again when she noticed them. The device slipped from her hand and hit the floor, the screen cracking as she recognized the three girls standing in her kitchen and immediately focused on Irma.
“IRMA EDMONDS?!”
She turned pale and stumbled back. “Yes, Ella, it’s me. And I can see you’re still the same dumb blonde airhead.”
“This can’t be possible! You’re dead!” Ella cried in disbelief.
“Mom,” Chloe said sharply, stepping forward, “if you had listened to the neighbors, you’d know Peace Valley is a supernatural hotspot. But that’s not the point. It’s time for you to finally take accountability for what you did back in high school.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Ms. Woods? You’ve got two ghosts and your daughter in this kitchen. It’s kind of obvious you did something,” Spirit said firmly. “So be an adult for once and own up.”
Irma stepped closer, her voice tight but steady. “Admit it. What. You. Did. Now.”
The glamorous woman shook, her voice breaking. “I… I…”
“Yes?” Irma pressed.
“I killed you! Okay? I killed you! And my daddy paid to have it swept under the rug! You happy now?!”
“I’m not happy,” Irma said after a beat. Her voice softened slightly but didn’t waver. “But I am glad you finally said it out loud. I will never forgive you for what you did.”
Ella flinched hard. The silence that followed felt different now—less like something unfinished, more like something that had finally been exposed.
“And if you don’t tell my family, you finally admitted it,” Irma added, “then I’ll give you the swirly you loved giving me all the time.”
“Irma,” Spirit said gently, “Chloe can handle her mom from here. I’ll make sure she tells your family.”
Irma didn’t take her eyes off Ella. “She’s going to tell them. And it’s going to be clear.”
Chloe lifted her phone. “I already got it on audio and video.” A faint, sharp smile crossed her face. “So yeah… now you really have to pay for what you did, Mom.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Irma finally exhaled, like something she’d been holding for years had loosened but not disappeared. She looked at Ella one last time, not with anger this time, but something colder and steadier.
“I never got justice,” she said quietly. “But I got the truth. And that’s yours to live with now.”
She stepped back, the weight of it settling into the room. Chloe lowered her phone slightly, watching her. Spirit didn’t interrupt. And for the first time, the air in the kitchen didn’t feel like it was hiding anything anymore.