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visited and named in the 1500s by
a famous French explorer named… Come on, guys, who knows this?”
    “Jacques Cousteau,” shouted Phil.
    Sid rolled his eyes a little.
    “Okay, guys, think it through, come on,” Sid said.
    “Jacques Cartier,” offered Mikuru.
    Sid clapped. “Excellent,” he said. “And he called it Royal Mountain,
Mont-Royal
, and what do you think got its name from that?”
    “Oh yeah, Montreal. That’s, like, amazing!” exclaimed Shelby.
    Was it? It didn’t seem especially amazing to me.
    “If you pick up the pace a little we can catch up to Ben,” Jac said.
    I opened my mouth to tell her to give it a rest, but closed it again. She was right. He wasn’t that far ahead of us, walking
by himself. Mont Royal Park was beautiful even on a day like this, which was bleak and gray as the day before but without
the rain. The path was wide and easy, and the way up wasn’t steep at all.
    I glanced behind me, to see my mother and Mrs. Gray taking up the rear. My motherwas wearing sensible if raggedy sneakers,
but Jac’s mom was wearing some kind of espadrille without socks.
She’s going to get terrible blisters
, I thought. I looked away before either of them could notice I was checking them out.
    “Maybe you’re right,” I told Jac, feeling as brave and terrified as a pilgrim embarking on a voyage to the New World. “We
could… oh.”
    Ben had been alone a minute ago. But now there was a guy walking next to him, talking and gesturing with his hands.
    “Forget it. That other guy is talking to him now,” I said.
    Jac grabbed my elbow.
    “What other guy?” she whispered.
    Oh no. Not again.
    “Please tell me you’re joking,” I said to her, almost tripping on a little rock in the road.
    Jac shook her head. “I don’t see anyone with Ben,” she told me. “You do?”
    I sighed.
    “I do,” I repeated.
    The guy had looked normal at first glance, but on closer examination I could see he was wearing britches—like the boys had
worn in our Drama Club production of
Our Town
—not the long baggy shorts I’d taken them for. His shirt was made of a thick material and looked worn and patched. He was
built like a football player, tall and solid and strong. Jac suddenly sped up and walked closer to them. To him. To whatever.
What was she doing?
    Anything was better than walking alone, so I caught up with her. I could hear the spirit with Ben now.
    “
Où est Hochelaga? Hochelaga?
”
    I could not understand him. The back ofhis neck was a little dirty and sunburned over the muscles. Was he asking where Hochelaga
was? Or who Hochelaga was?
Où
means “who,” right?
    “
Hochelaga!
” the ghost boy repeated with more urgency. He raised one hand, like he was going to whack Ben on the head. With arms like
that, I’m betting he could have Ben airborne with a single blow. If he’d been, you know, from our physical reality and all
that.
    “Hey!” I exclaimed.
    Ben stopped walking and turned around. I hadn’t realized how close on his heels I was—I almost collided with him.
    “Hey,” he said.
    “Hey,” I said.
    But of course, I had already said that.
    “Hey,” Jac said. She came up on my right elbow, so that she didn’t stand between Ben and me.
    “Hey,” Ben said, a smile spreading over his face.
    This was either the best or the worst thing that had happened to me in a long time. I was walking with Ben, which gave me
an excuse to chat with him and be with him and just basically absorb his Ben-ness. Except that a big dead guy in britches
with no shoes and unkempt blond hair was in the way, repeating things in a language I did not speak especially well. Wonderful.
My first shot at making a good impression on Ben and something had already, well, come between us.
    “I’m trying to picture what this must have looked like to Cartier four hundred years ago,” Ben said. The ghost guy practically
jumped in the air.
    “
Cartier! Je dois revenir à l’Emerille avec Cartier, à