I walked into the cemetery and closed my eyes. It was still weird that he liked playing there, but whenever I asked why he wouldn’t answer. Maybe this time he would.

The gates behind me looked like thin gray swords. I never liked touching them because I always thought they would come alive and get me. When I told my mommy that, she shrugged and said that eight-year-old girls should not go play where dead bodies are buried.

That day it was so cold out—so cold that I could only think about how cold I was. I went to zip my sweater and it was not there. Where was it? I had just had it not long ago! Did the grumpy wind blow it away?

Sometimes when I’m upset I throw a fit. My mommy says I “go crazy.” First, I run and scream as if a bad guy were chasing me and then I dive on the ground and cry. I did not want my sweater to be lost, so I went crazy. I cried so much I was scared I would flood the cemetery. Then I remembered that he wanted to play there. And I thought, maybe Boo could help me find my sweater.

When I looked up, I saw him walking closer.

“Boo!” I yelled in excitement. He made a small smile and sat next to me.

“Why are you crying?” he asked. I told him about my sweater and he promised to help me. We looked around all of the trees and graves. My hair kept blowing in my face and getting wet from my tears, but Boo’s hair stayed still. He didn’t even look cold.

I asked him why he wasn’t cold and he said, “I don’t get cold.” Then I asked why he always wanted to play in the cemetery.

“I only like the cemetery,” he said. I ask him a lot of questions because he seems to have centuries of patience and other people, like my mother, have none. Sometimes his answers are weird, but he’s still my best friend.

Boo was searching a tree when I asked him why he didn’t go to school. I knew what he would say but I always asked him anyway.

“I can’t,” he replied. I felt anxious about my sweater again, so I stopped asking him those questions.

We kept looking, but we never found it in the cemetery. I told him maybe it was down the street or something. His face looked even paler than normal.

“Your brother can help you find it,” he said.

I scrunched up my face, instantly not liking this idea. “But I want you to,” I whined.

Boo shook his head and his light wispy hair fell gracefully around his face. He looked scared.

“I can’t leave,” he said. I stared at him, unable to understand. I asked him why not.

He was staring at his dull gray shoes. I had to get him to help me; otherwise I would never find my sweater.

“I belong here,” I heard Boo mumble. “If I leave, I don’t know what will happen.”

This didn’t make sense to me. What did he mean he “belonged” there? But I needed his help very much.

“We can just take a quick look, can’t we?” I begged.

He nodded after a while, but he still looked as if he’d seen a ghost. I led him out of the thin, looming gates and we walked down the sidewalk. His eyes were huge. I looked up and down the street for my sweater as he followed silently.

A few older people would say hi to me when they passed by, but none said hi to Boo. I felt sorry for him, but I was too concerned with my lost sweater to comfort him.

Sometimes I looked over at Boo just to make sure he was still there. I started worrying about him too because he was being so quiet. Once when I looked over, he seemed too pale, almost transparent like the wax paper I used when I made cookies with Mommy.

“Are you all right, Boo?” I asked.

He shook his head and I thought I could faintly see the grass swaying by looking through his pale face.

“We have to go back soon,” was all he said. I wanted to argue and insist we find the sweater first, but suddenly I felt too tired to.

“Okay,” I replied. “Sorry you don’t feel good.”

A woman was staring at me on the sidewalk. She stopped walking and studied my face.

“Who are you talking to?” she asked me. She looked worried—maybe she had lost her sweater too?

I pointed to Boo. “My friend, Boo!” What a silly lady.

She looked confused for a moment and she never looked right at Boo, but suddenly she smiled and nodded knowingly.

“I used to have a lot of imaginary friends,” she chuckled before walking away. To my surprise, her hand actually passed through Boo’s arm when she walked by him.

Boo flinched and looked sad. Somehow he was even fainter than before. Suddenly the sweater didn’t matter anymore.

“You aren’t imaginary,” I said, but I was puzzled about him. “Are you?”

He flickered before my very eyes and I froze, fearing he would vanish.

“No,” he answered, “But they cannot see me. You can somehow, but they cannot.”

I frowned and asked, “Are you invisible?” He shook his head and pointed toward the cemetery.

“We have to go back,” he said. “Now.” He said it so softly and with such a serious expression, that I had no choice but other than to agree.

It took forever to get to the gates. I kept watching Boo the whole way, afraid he would disappear like something in a magic trick. Sometimes he would flicker again and I would feel like crying. I reached for his hand at one point, but I could hardly feel it in mine as we neared the cemetery.

I saw something limp caught in the gates and my old fear of them returned for a moment, forcing me to walk faster.

But I saw soon enough that it was, in fact, my sweater. I only felt a small amount of relief about this though; I was still upset about Boo’s fading.

I grabbed my sweater quickly so the scary gates would not get angry and come to life. Then I turned toward Boo—and he wasn’t there. I broke out in a sweat and looked around me wildly. He wasn’t there!

“BOO?” I shouted. He was gone! I went crazy again: I sprinted past the tombstones and trees and threw myself onto the ground, pounding it with my fists with that stupid sweater on. Boo was gone, and all for a dumb sweater.

I was shaking as I slowly raised my head, my wavy hair damp from my crying. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was cold, but that gave away whom it belonged to; Boo’s hands were never warm.

Sniffling, I turned and smiled at him, wiping my eyes. He gave another of his small smiles and I started feeling better. I hugged him, never feeling more relieved.

When I stepped back, I saw that we were standing next to a tombstone. I read the name on it: “Booregard Wickes.”

“Boo,” I whispered. I looked up at him. “This is you, isn’t it?”

He just stared at me in his old-fashioned, off-white clothes and I could tell I was right.

“Will you still come and play with me tomorrow?” he asked. He made it sound important and I knew he was really asking if I’d still be friends with him even though he was a ghost.

I nodded. “And I’ll make sure not to lose anything,” I said, smiling a little. To think I had almost lost him! He was my only friend, really—my best friend.

We sat until the sun starting sinking. He told me more about what being a ghost was like. Some of it was sad, but I wanted to hear everything.

At last, I said good-bye and took a last look at Boo before leaving. The gates didn’t scare me when I opened them. I glanced back at them before walking away and thought they almost looked like tall, silver soldiers guarding my friend.

---

My mom didn’t like me to walk very far by myself, but she let me walk the few blocks to school. When I asked her if I could walk to the cemetery she said no at first.

“But Mommy, it’s only a few blocks away! I know how to get there and I won’t be too long,” I argued. I desperately wanted to see Boo again and figure out why he didn’t want to meet her.

She sighed and looked at me worriedly. “You go off by yourself when we go there and I don’t know what you do!”

“I just like how peaceful it is,” I said, remembering hearing Daddy say it once. “And Daddy tells me about cemeteries in books and history.”

It took a little more convincing, but she finally agreed to let me go only for half an hour. I decided to talk to Daddy about it when he was home from work because he would probably understand more.

Now that it was autumn it was getting chilly out and I had to bring a jacket. I walked quickly to the graveyard, eager to see Boo and question him. At first I hesitated to enter because the jagged iron gates still frightened me. I held my breath and slipped past them.

Before looking for Boo, I was sure to stop at my grandpa’s grave and say hi and that I missed him. I thought of him watching me playing in the cemetery and wondered what he would think. I had always told Grandpa about wanting a best friend, so maybe he had asked for one for me?

I walked farther into the cemetery, letting myself get distracted by the various tombstones and names. I wondered why Boo was always at the graveyard whenever I went there. He must have gone there an awful lot. Maybe his parents didn’t think it was so weird.

“Boo?” I called out, looking all around me. There was no response right away and I decided maybe he wasn’t there all the time. Frowning, I turned to leave.

“Cassie!” I heard someone calling. I smiled and ran in that direction. So Boo was there again!

I spotted him and stopped, still smiling. He looked happy to see me, but it seemed as if something were bothering him too.

“Hi, Boo!” I greeted. “I thought maybe you weren’t here. Why are you always here?”

His eyes flickered away and I could tell he didn’t like the question. It was brighter out than it had ever been before in the cemetery and his blond hair shone strangely and faintly.

He sighed and ran his pale fingers along a cracked headstone covered in moss.

“This is my secret place I like to go to,” he answered. “No one bothers me here.” Boo looked around at the graveyard lit by the rust-colored sun. “And now I get to see you here!”

I jumped around excitedly at this. Then I thought of what I had meant to ask in the first place.

“Boo, since you are my friend you’re supposed to meet my parents!” I said. “So why wouldn’t you meet my mommy?”

The wind stirred the dying leaves around our feet. Boo’s mouth folded into a small frown and his gray eyes grew darker. I was always fascinated at the way he transformed when there was something that made him sad. It was easier to tell with him than the other children, even though he was so quiet.

“Cassie, remember how I said this is my secret place? I want it to stay my secret place. That means no one else knows about it.”

Part of me wanted to ask why he needed a secret place so much, but I could tell my questions were making him upset. “I wish you could meet her,” I mumbled, unable to keep my disappointment at bay.

Boo was watching me sadly. “I’m sorry, me too.”

We fell silent for a while, walking among the tombstones side by side. Autumn is my favorite season and I love the noise the crinkled leaves make as I step on them. I looked over to see if Boo stepped on them like I did. He must have moved very softly, since the leaves beneath his shoes made no sound and were barely disturbed.

Another gust of wind caught me off guard and I zipped up my jacket. Boo always wore the same outfits—the faded collared shirts and trousers with old fashioned-looking shoes. He didn’t seem bothered by the cold.

“It’s getting chilly out, Boo. Aren’t you cold?”

He laughed, but it didn’t sound happy. “I don’t get cold easily,” he replied.

We had stopped in front of a pile of leaves that someone must have made. I grinned at Boo, took a running start, and leapt into the air. The sound of the leaves crunching as they caught my fall was always so satisfying to hear.

Boo finally looked at ease and started laughing. He ran for the spread out leaf pile and landed beside me with a rustle.

“This is my favorite part of autumn!” I exclaimed, tossing red leaves into the air. “Don’t you love jumping in the leaves?”

He stood and helped me form the leaves into a pile again. “I can’t remember ever doing it! At least, not in a long time.”

It was always strange at first to see him acting so excited when he was usually mellow, but making him laugh was the best part of playing with him.

“What do you do during recess at school?” I asked suddenly. I pictured him sitting on the swings like I did.

His face fell for a moment, but he quickly recovered his smile. “I don’t go to a school,” he said.

I stared at him in shock. Here was a boy who wore old clothes, played in a cemetery, and did not go to school. He was my friend, yet there were some things about him I just couldn’t understand.

“But…you have to go to school, don’t you?” This was what confused me the most about him. “Are you homeschooled?”

Boo stared at me for a long time, mirroring my confusion. “Y-yes,” he answered finally. He turned and lunged for the leaf pile again. His light laugh filled the air as he landed.

“My brother always used to jump in the leaves with me, but now he says he’s too old,” I told Boo. “So I’m glad you like to!”

I sprinted as fast as I could and jumped heavily onto the pile, sending the fiery leaves flying everywhere. I searched the scattered leaves until I found a red one that almost looked pink. That was my favorite color.

“These are the ones I like best,” I said, handing it to Boo. He smiled and examined it. As he held it in the light, I saw it was browner in color than I had thought.

I stretched out among the leaves and fanned my arms and legs up and down. “Look, I’m making a leaf-angel!” I laughed.

Boo didn’t seem to get it, but he joined me and was laughing pretty soon too. When I sat up there were leaves and twigs all stuck in my hair and he had to help me get them out.

“I wish I could stay and play in the leaves with you, but I promised my mom I wouldn’t be long.”

He walked with me to the gates of the cemetery. He stood back from them, looking nervous. I glanced up at the spiky posts, stretching up from the ground like bony skeleton hands.

“Do they scare you too?” I asked. Boo’s gray eyes were wide as he looked back at me and nodded.

“Will you come back soon?” he asked hopefully.

“I will as soon as I can!” I answered, smiling at my friend. I had only played with Boo a few times, but already it felt like I had found a new best friend to spend time with.

As I passed quickly through the gates again, I looked back one more time and saw that Boo was still holding the leaf I had found in his hand. I was surprised to see it was crumpled and dead. I tried to find more red ones as I walked home, but only brown leaves crunched under my feet.

The church bells rang in the gray morning light as Mommy tightly clutched my hand. Today we were going to the graveyard to visit Grandpa for the first time since the funeral.

I could sense Mommy looking down at me and glanced back up at her. “What is it?” I asked at the sight of her teary gaze.

She sighed and said, “Just making sure you’re okay. This isn’t easy for me, Honey.” 

I gave her my biggest hug right then and there because I love when she calls me “Honey” and I hate seeing her sad. Sometimes when I give people hugs I imagine that I’m squeezing all of the sadness out of them. Thinking of this again, I wondered if I that would work for Boo, too.

Boo. This was the first time I was seeing him since the funeral and I was beginning to doubt the whole thing had been real. The thought that it might have all been a dream made me upset because I wanted to be friends with Boo, but I remembered it more like a dream than reality.

We walked through the scary gates and I clutched my mother’s leg tightly to protect me from them. Mommy walked me to Grandpa’s grave and crouched before it with me at her side. In my head I said hi to Grandpa and read the engraving on the headstone to him, asking him if he liked it. I didn’t hear any answer, but decided that he probably did. Getting antsy, I turned to my mommy and saw her red-rimmed eyes staring where the grass cradled the smooth stone.

The more I looked at her, the more I realized she was having a moment and wanted to be by herself. I tugged gently on her sleeve. “Mommy, can I walk around a little? Grandpa doesn’t like when I’m antsy.”

She smiled through silent tears that were beginning to flow. “Sure, Cassie,” she answered softly, “Just don’t leave the cemetery.”

I nodded, gave her one more tiny hug, and slowly made my way among tombstones.

It wasn’t hard to find the place where I had first seen Boo. I remembered hiding behind the tree and peeking out at his gray figure that seemed to blend in with the morning mist. More than anything, I wanted to see my new friend there again.

There was no ominous mist today, only a sheet of clouds across the sky. I called out for Boo, trying not to say it too loudly. I don’t know what I was afraid of, but I couldn’t say it in more than a whisper.

“Boo, where are you?” I asked one last time, holding my breath hopefully. No more than a second after, I felt a cold touch on my shoulder and jumped to the clouds.

I realized who it must have been and turned to face him. Whenever I saw him it was like peering into a fog that slowly drifted away, leaving him standing. I wondered why he was so different like this.

The gray of his eyes shined with happiness I had never seen him show. “You came back, Cassie! You are a true friend.”

He really must not have had any friends if that was his reaction to seeing me. I wanted to hug him because I loved making people that happy, but at the same time I felt hesitant. Instead I gave him my biggest smile.

“My mommy came to visit Grandpa,” I said, “which means I can also visit you!”

Boo shuffled uncomfortably in his ashen shoes. They blended in with the pale morning light that made everything look sad and dusty. Suddenly I felt sad thinking of Grandpa.

“What do you think happened to him, Boo?”

When his face fell it didn’t bother me as much this time; I guess that was just his normal expression. He sat on the grass and I sat next to him. His gaze was far away for a while and I got curious about what he was thinking all those times he went silent and didn’t answer me for a while.

“There’s no saying for sure what could have happened,” he said vaguely. “There are all different layers, good, bad and in between.”

“In between?” I asked. He never answered that one.

Boo stood suddenly. I noticed that none of his movements were fast and springy like how the other kids my age were, but they weren’t slow and deliberate either. It reminded me of someone floating in water or what it would look like if you walked on a cloud.

“Can we play a game?” he asked. “I used to love games.”

My big smile came back and I looked around excitedly. What games were there to play in a cemetery that weren’t scary? I was sure I could come up with something.

I found myself studying a gravestone near me. It was old and moss-covered, but it was almost the same size as me if I squatted down a little.

“Let’s play hide and seek!” I suggested. “I count to ten while you hide somewhere, then I come and look for you.”

Boo’s little smile appeared, but there was something wistful in it too. “That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “I used to like playing games like that.”

I ran to the nearest tree, covered my eyes, and leaned up against it so there was no chance I would cheat. Sarah, the girl next door to me, always cheated in every game we played and it annoyed me so much.

“Nine…Ten…Ready or not, here I come!” I called out excitedly. I looked around me and started for a section of taller, fancier tombstones. The gray of morning was leaving, but it was so cloudy I still couldn’t see the sun. I almost felt a little scared for a second as I wandered around. I was alone in a graveyard while I played hide and seek with my new friend.

As I looked around for any sign of Boo, I thought about how he was always wandering around the graveyard by himself. It seemed like something my mother would say was unhealthy for kids, but I kind of liked thinking about him just walking listlessly and reading all of the tombstones. I wondered if he made up stories about the people buried there and their pasts.

I finally came to a little crypt that I had never come across before. Past it, I could see a hill rising with more gravestones and a small church just beyond it. I hoped Boo wasn’t hiding in the crypt. I felt too scared to look inside of it.

I tried to listen for anything as I made my way around the crypt walls—a laugh, someone shifting in the grass. There were no sounds but the wind and a mourning dove.

Then there was me giggling because I had just spotted the toe of Boo’s gray shoes around the corner of the crypt.

“I found you!” I cried victoriously, jumping in front of him. He smiled brightly and let out a little laugh that reminded me of bells. I liked it the best when he was laughing.

“Is it your turn to hide now?” he asked, acting more childish than usual. It made me smile to see him more at ease.

Soon Boo was counting against a tree and I was hurrying to find a hiding spot behind one of the many gravestones.

I was so caught up in the game that I screamed when I ran right into someone. Looking up in alarm, I saw that it was just my mom.

“Cassie, what on earth are you up to?” she asked, but her voice was soft. The tears on her face were gone and she looked a little less sad now.

“I was playing hide and seek!” I told her.

She instantly looked puzzled. “With whom?” she asked looking around.

“Boo!” I answered, jumping in excitement.

“Ready or not, here I…”

I turned and saw Boo’s face looking out from behind the tree trunk. Finally, my mom could meet my new friend! But he seemed to see the excitement on my face and he shrank back shyly and shook his head at me.

“Boo who?” Mommy asked, still confused.

I looked sadly at Boo, wondering why he wouldn’t want to meet my mom. Maybe I would be able to fine out next time.

“Don’t cry!” I said, playing it off as a joke. My mommy smiled and gave me a hug, saying it was time to leave.

She held my hand as I walked, but I managed to turn and give Boo a small wave good-bye. Being friends with Boo was a constant game of hide and seek, only I was the one who always had to look for him as he hid. I didn’t mind though, because I always was happy to find my new friend.

The day of my grandfather’s funeral was supposed to be the worst day ever. But it turned out to be a good one. Isn’t it silly how that works?

My morning had been unusual and it took me a long time to realize why. I was going about my routine normally and trying to help everyone else out because they were sad, but no one would talk. My mommy and daddy drifted around the house like shadows, stirring the dust and creating layers of darkness. I felt a bit scared and wondered if maybe they had turned into ghosts or something. I didn’t want that to happen to my parents.

But they weren’t ghosts at all. Thinking back, it’s kind of funny that I thought that at the time. My daddy is an English professor and he would call it “ironic.”

It was ironic to me that we were driving in such a fancy car to see a dead body. Maybe it was because Grandpa could see the black car from heaven and he had always liked cool-looking cars. I remember playing with his collection of old toy cars. That was my strongest memory of my grandfather; he had not visited very much but he always brought the cars to show me (and would forget every time that he had already brought them over the last time).

That’s why I did not cry. I felt sad for Mommy and Daddy and I would miss how Grandpa forgot everything, but I did not know him well enough to feel the same sadness my parents suffered. At first, my mommy was upset that I was not crying. A horrible stream of tears was flowing from her and dampening everything in the room—her clothes, the carpet, the table, me—and she had asked Daddy what was wrong with me.

“Why isn’t she crying, Dave?” she sobbed. “Your father just died and our daughter isn’t even crying about it?!”

Nothing she said that day had made much sense, so I figured that this was true for those questions too. But since then, things have happened that have made me think more about death and see it differently. The thing that started it all happened that day in the cemetery.

The funeral took place at an old, cemetery that Daddy called “gothic.” He was telling me how he loved when books had scenes that took place in cemeteries that had existed for many generations. That might be why I had both a fear and attraction of those places.

When we were walking into the cemetery I noticed the spindly gates stretching up from the ground like bony hands. Beyond this, nothing looked scary to me in the least. But something about those gates sent a chill up my spine, especially when they were creaked open by my daddy’s hand. I held my breath and hugged my mommy’s black skirt as we floated in like a sluggish black cloud. The old cemetery smelled of faint flowers and ancient dust.

My parents led me to my grandfather’s grave, where an old man in robes was holding a heavily bound Bible and speaking. I tried to listen—I really did—but I just couldn’t. Instead, I glanced around the tombstones, old and new, reading a few names and dates and feeling an inexplicable awe. Something about the place in which the dead slept made it seem like a captivating mystery that was quickly pulling me in.

After the funeral ended, my parents became lost in the black mass of huddling people. I slipped away from the family members and old folks and walked among the graves listlessly. There were so many names and so many time periods. Something about the way the moss crawled about the tombstones and how time had weathered the words and made some obscure fascinated me. And that’s when I saw the boy.

He was stark against the dreary shadows of the cemetery. His blond hair floated about his head angelically and looked almost as pale as his skin. I watched his sitting form from behind a withering birch tree. The outfit he wore was unusual: an old-fashioned, collared shirt the color of pearls, faded trousers, and dull gray dress shoes.

I gasped when he looked at me suddenly. I felt the blood draining from my face, which must have been as pale as his. As he stared at me with his gray eyes I could not move or breathe, even. My heart raced and a coldness seemed to be trapped inside me. Slowly, he rose up from the dark grass and stood, giving the appearance of the moon against the night sky. The strange boy was walking closer and closer and I was hopelessly frozen with fright.

My eyes widened when he stopped about two feet away from me. His round, wistful gray eyes seemed to hold all of the ancient sorrows of the world. I could see that he was not dangerous and even appeared gentle from his dream-like movements. He looked surprised and I could see the mild curiosity in his gaze rising. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then spoke at last.

“You can see,” was what he said.

I nearly laughed, but he looked so solemn that I caught myself. What a silly thing to say!

I answered, “Of course I can!” 

His eyes brightened immediately and the pallor of his skin seemed to lessen for a moment. His thin lips curled up ever so slightly and I wondered if the boy ever smiled.

“What is your name?” he asked. His voice was soft and came to me like a serene breeze. He was so different from anyone I had ever met.

“Cassie,” I said, thinking he was actually pretty friendly.

The boy’s mouth tightened and he narrowed his eyes in concentration. I watched as he reached for my hand gracefully, but unsurely. I almost asked him what he was doing, but something held me back when I saw the small smile on his face again. He had my hand in his icy cold clutch. I shivered and he pulled it back.

I thought he was a bit odd, but I didn’t really mind it. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Boo,” he answered.

“That’s it? Just Boo?” What a weird name!

He nodded, looking serious again, but his gray eyes shone with hope. He asked, “Cassie, do you think we could be acquaintances?”

I snickered and couldn’t hide it. Boo talked funny. But I thought he was nice and I didn’t really have any friends, so I agreed. It would be nice to talk to someone other than my annoying neighbor, Sarah. She had never been a nice friend.

He seemed much happier than before and looked less strange standing there in front of me in the cemetery.

“Now that you are my friend, can you please promise that you will come back and play with me?” Boo sounded awfully sad when he said that, like all he had ever wanted was one friend to play with.

I didn’t know much about him yet, but I felt really bad and I wanted to make him happy. The little smile appeared after I promised that I would. I wasn’t sure how exactly I could convince my mommy and daddy to let me play in the graveyard with a strange boy, but then I realized that they would probably want to visit Grandpa once in a while.

Suddenly, I heard my daddy shouting my name. I jumped and looked back at Boo.

“I have to go now,” I said. “I’m happy to be your friend, though!” His eyes sparkled in a mixture of joy and sorrow at this.

“Why can’t we just play at your house?” I asked him.

Boo frowned and stared at the shady grass by his feet. I could see my shadow, but not his.

“Cassie!” my daddy shouted again. I sighed.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’ll be back, so don’t be sad!”

Boo stared at me for a while with a grim frown. Finally, he gave me an odd little bow and then straightened, his pale hair only shifting slightly when he moved.

“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cassie,” he said.

I smiled and watched his gloomy face for a moment longer before running off towards my daddy’s voice. My parents scolded me a bit for wandering off without them, but they were too tired to yell or anything and stopped after a little while.

As I left the cemetery, I didn’t even notice the scary gates. I walked in a dreamy state, knowing that what just happened was real, but feeling that there was something unnatural about it all. I pictured Boo’s sad, gray eyes and I kept thinking that I had to keep my promise to him; I had to go back to the cemetery to play with my new friend.