The War That Saved My Life meets Coraline in this “deliciously creepy” ( Publishers Weekly , starred review) middle grade historical novel following an anxious young girl learning to face her fears—and her ghosts—against the backdrop of the typhoid epidemic. Essie O’Neill is afraid of everything. She’s afraid of cats and electric lights. She’s afraid of the silver sick bell, a family heirloom that brings up frightening memories. Most of all, she’s afraid of the red door in her nightmares. But soon Essie discovers so much more to fear. Her mother has remarried, and they must move from their dilapidated tenement in the Bronx to North Brother Island, a dreary place in the East River. That’s where Essie’s new stepfather runs a quarantine hospital for the incurable sick, including the infamous Typhoid Mary. Essie knows the island is plagued with tragedy. Years ago, she watched in horror as the ship General Slocum caught fire and sank near its shores, plummeting one thousand women and children to their deaths. Now, something on the island is haunting Essie. And the red door from her dreams has become a reality, just down the hall from her bedroom in her terrifying new house. Convinced her stepfather is up to no good, Essie investigates. Yet to uncover the truth, she will have to face her own painful history—and what lies behind the red door. * "Kramer has chosen an innately creepy setting. . . [and] delivers a thrilling read with poignant commentary on the value of immigrants’ lives and one’s capacity to become a stronger, better person." -- Booklist, Starred Review * "Intricately and elegantly plotted, and full of vividly rendered details, Kramer’s novel is a deliciously creepy ghost story with a mystery at its core and, given discussions about vaccines and contagion, special resonance for the current historical moment." -- Publishers Weekly, Starred Review "[A] suspenseful take on conquering fears, with a lesson on how first impressions can be very wrong. . . this is the perfect Halloween read." -- School Library Journal "Readers who like ghost stories and mysteries will enjoy reading this book. . . Recommended." -- School Library Connection J. Kasper Kramer is the author of the acclaimed novel The Story That Cannot Be Told as well as The List of Unspeakable Fears , Eyes on the Sky , and Serpent on the Mountain . She’s an author and English professor in Chattanooga, Tennessee. She has a master’s degree in creative writing and once upon a time lived in Japan, where she taught at an international school. When she’s not curled up with a book, Kramer loves researching lost fairy tales, playing video games, and fostering kittens. Visit her at JKasperKramer.com. Chapter One Chapter One A red door. A dark hallway. A terrible feeling of dread. My dream always starts just like this. The only noise is a rhythmic dripping behind one of the walls. I’m so sick with fear, I can’t move. I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I open them, the red door is still there. Looming. A tingle prickles up my spine, like the toes of a hundred black spiders. Someone whispers my name. And right then, on most nights, I wake up. Usually I’m crying, my sleeping gown soaked in sweat. Usually I plead for my mam to light the gas lamp by our bed, and she holds me till the shaking has stopped. But sometimes I can’t wake up at all. Sometimes, still asleep, I thrash about or crawl to the floor. Sometimes I run screaming straight across the room, my eyes wide open but not seeing. Mam calls it “getting stuck.” On those nights, when she catches my cheeks between her hands, she can tell that I’m not really with her. She says she calls to me over and over, trying to lead me back to the world of the living with the sound of her voice, but it’s like I’m deep underwater. I hear nothing at all. In the distance, on the other side of the East River, a lighthouse beam pierces the late afternoon fog. Five seconds of burning light. Five seconds of chilling dark. For a moment, I’m certain it’s happened again. I’m certain I’m stuck in the nightmare. I realize that the shadow forming across the murky, churning water is North Brother Island, and a shiver passes through me. I turn to go back inside the ferry, but Mam takes my wrist. “You promised,” she says under her breath. Since I can hear her, I know I’m awake. “Come now, Essie. Be a brave girl.” That’s easy enough for her, I suppose. Mam is the bravest person in all of New York City. Everyone says it—the cranky landlord in our crumbling tenement; my best friend, Beatrice; the nuns who teach us at St. Jerome’s Catholic School. I’ve seen Mam pick up dead rats without flinching. I’ve seen her stomp a fire out with her boot. When she was half my age, just five years old, she crossed the whole ocean with her mother to join her father in America. I can’t even take a ferry up Hell Gate without turning white as a petticoat. January wind, freezing and damp, spits into my face.