THE TEARS ON my face dry to a crust as June and Dayton stop at the edge of Riley’s now-empty grave. I never would have guessed that raising the dead could make the cemetery look so much like homecoming. June is wearing a mustard yellow cardigan over a poofy blue dress. Dayton is covered in pink lace. Both of their necks look fine, but it’s pretty dark outside since the grave stole my candles.
“You told me they were dead,” Riley says, her voice edged with annoyance. I try not to be offended by her tone. I’m sure that the shock of returning to the land of the living is rough. Still, it would be comforting if Riley could smile or acknowledge how bonkers all of this is. I’m suddenly feeling very alone despite all my company.
“They were dead,” I say, keeping one eye on June and Dayton. Like Riley, they appear unruffled by their trip topside, despite the fact that neither of them is wearing shoes and their feet are caked with mud and bits of grass.
“Oh, hi,” Dayton says, batting her eyelashes and slapping on a bright, fake smile. There’s a small diamond clip in her short brown hair. “What are you guys doing here? Something witchy?”
“Something freaky, more like,” June says. Her lips stick out like a duck bill. “What are we doing here? What did you guys do to us?”
Riley shoots me a sidelong glance that is super familiar. She may not remember everything that’s happened, but it’s definitely her. The look means, Should I cuss out these dummies, or would you like the pleasure? I have never liked June or Dayton, but I should explain why they were accidentally ripped out of their afterlife.
“Well,” I say. “I was here to work a spell—”
June rolls her eyes so hard it’s almost audible.
“That seems to have brought you all back from the dead,” I finish sharply. This is why I never talk to anyone about magic. Even when it literally jolts someone out of their grave, they can’t help but be shitty and holier-than-thou. “I didn’t mean to. I’m really sorry if you were in heaven with harps and halos and I ruined it.”
Dayton’s upper lip twitches. Mirroring June, she crosses her arms. “Ha. Yeah, okay. That’s not even funny. It’s just odd.”
“Of course it is. These two are always odd,” June says with a huff. She tips her head at me. She’s not much taller than I am, but she manages to talk a long way down. “This whole fake-witch thing is so tired. I used to feel bad for you when people would make fun of you, but you’re bringing it on yourselves now. Grow up. We’re going to be seniors next year.”
“I will be,” I say, my patience starting to unravel at the edges. “You? Not so much. Because, again, you’re dead. Gone. Donezo.”
“Cool it before you start doing the Monty Python bird sketch,” Riley says to me. She looks at June. “What’s the last thing you remember? How did you get to the graveyard? Where are your shoes?”
June opens her mouth, but her eyes flash with confusion followed by a gust of anger. “If we were dead,” she huffs, “then why weren’t we buried?”
I rub my arms. The cold is starting to settle into my skin, but that could also be shock. I shuffle over to my jacket and tug it out from under the grimoire. The night air has chilled the denim, but I slide it on anyway. “If you weren’t buried, then why are you wearing formal wear at midnight on a Sunday?”
Dayton shifts her weight from foot to foot. There is gold glitter polish on her toenails. I kind of hate how cute it looks with her dress. “So, how long have we been dead?” she asks. She’s trying hard to keep her nose up, but she’s not committing as hard as she was before. It could be the grass starting to make her feet itch.
“You two?” I incline my head to her and June as I button up my jacket. “Since last Saturday. Buried on Monday.” I look at Riley. Even though she’s right in front of me, all hale and hearty, it’s hard to force the words out. “Y-you died after their service. We buried you on Wednesday morning.”
“I feel weird,” Dayton says, wriggling and writhing like she is trying to loosen a wedgie. She turns her head away from me and Riley, whispering to June, “Like I’m wearing two super tampons?”
“It’s gauze,” Riley says. “It prevents corpse leakage.”
Dayton turns back, gasping. Her giant brown eyes bulge under her eyebrows. “What would I be leaking?”
Riley takes a threatening step forward. “Whatever was left in you after embalming.”
Dayton covers her mouth with a terrified squeak.
Riley smirks. I’ve seen her spout corpse facts to scare people before. It seems in poor taste to say it to the faces of actual corpses.
“Look,” I say, “I told you I’m sorry. I brought Riley back so that we could figure out who killed her, and I guess I put more power behind the spell than I meant to. So I’ll find a way to put you two back”—in the ground? To death?—“where you came from. Then Riley and I can get back to our business and you can get back to yours.”
“You don’t know who killed me?” Riley asks.
I dig my fingernails into my heart line. “You drowned in the creek. That’s all we know.”
Riley shivers. “Fuck a duck. I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve never been in the creek before. It smells like sewage even up on the bridges.”
“Excuse me.” June snaps her fingers four times in quick succession like she’s trying to get the attention of a dog. “Who the hell killed us?”
“Um,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. God, this is so awkward. “You did? You hanged yourselves.”
“No, we didn’t,” June says, almost laughing. She plants a hand on her hip and looks to Dayton, who shakes her head in agreement.
“How the hell would you know?” I ask. “You don’t even remember crawling out of your fucking graves. I went to your funeral. I read the newspaper article about it. You hanged yourselves in Aldridge Park on Saturday night. Dayton swung so hard, she lost a shoe. You had some kind of suicide pact. Sorry about it.”
“No,” June says again, and it’s even more annoying this time because she adds a single finger wag to it that makes her look like Ms. Chu. “We wouldn’t do that.”
“No way,” Dayton agrees. “Suicides go to hell.”
“Also, why would we want to die?” June asks. “Our lives are sweet. We’re pretty, popular, and it’s only junior year. Plus, we haven’t even been to the Rausch awards gala yet.”
“And the alumni association is talking about having it catered by Olive Garden this year,” Dayton adds.
“Why would someone kill Riley?” June asks, waving her hand in the air in thought. “And not us? It’s nonsensical.”
“You’ve got us there,” Riley says. “You are much more murderable than I am.”
“Rude,” June says with a contemptuous click of her tongue. “So rude. I bet Sky Moony killed me. She was so jealous of me. Oh! Or Dawn. She copied my bangs.”
“I can’t believe I was murdered,” Dayton says, sitting down in the dirt. She lifts her legs to her chest, carefully smoothing her skirt over them before placing her chin on her knees with a pout. It seems way too scrunched to be comfortable. Then again, my boobs would never allow for me to get my legs that close to my stomach. Dayton is exactly as delicate as I am not. “Do you have any idea how hurtful that is?”
“Being murdered?” I ask.
“It depends on how quickly your necks broke after the hanging,” Riley notes. “If you suffocated, it would be long and painful.”
“How could you say something like that?” June gasps, taking an affronted step back. “We just found out we were murdered, Riley Greenway. Have some respect.”
“We were all murdered, June. Your death is not that special,” Riley says.