A thunderstorm keeps Lucely awake. She hides under the covers until a voice calls to her. The ghost of her abuela, or grandmother, Mamá Teresa, appears at her bedside, takes her hand, and sings a gentle song that lulls Lucely to sleep.

In the morning, Lucely smells white cheese frying downstairs. Her father, Simon—an “enormous history geek” (4) who leads tours of the haunted locations in their town, St. Augustine, Florida—is making breakfast. She looks up at the beige stickers on the ceiling: At night, they glow like stars. The blue walls imitate her abuela’s house in the Dominican Republic. Above her desk is a corkboard covered with school assignments and awards; near it hangs a periodic-table poster adorned with hip-hop artists.

The ghost of her late aunt, Tía Milagros, appears, clad as always in the hair curlers and pajamas in which she died. She flings the comforter from Lucely’s bed and insists the girl get up and tidy her room.

Instead, Lucely goes downstairs, where a roomful of relatives sits at a table piled with banana pancakes, bacon, sausage, fried cheese, and fruit. Simon greets her while he cooks. Lucely says good morning to her cousins and aunts.