Undead Girl Gang(20)

I launch myself to my feet. My arms are around her shoulders, bracing her into a tight, probably smelly hug. The sweetness of her perfume isn’t on her skin. It’s set into the fabric of her dress. Her skin has the plastic stink of dollar-store toys—formaldehyde.

“Uh, hey, friend,” she says, patting my back almost sarcastically. “Did we do a bunch of drugs I forgot about?”

I end the hug but grab on to her forearm, not ready to be separated. What if she disappears? “What’s the last thing you remember? The funeral? The creek?”

“Which funeral?” She cocks her head at me. Her movements are robotic, halting, and slow. “I live in a funeral home, dude. You’ll have to be way more specific.” She squints at my chest. “Is that my necklace?”

I ignore the question for now. One death at a time.

“June and Dayton’s service,” I say slowly. Did I fuck up the spell and bring her back wrong? I try to remember any herbs for memory charms, but my mind is racing. Magic is real. Riley is real. Magic and Riley are here with me! “We went to their service on Monday, and then you—”

“June’s dead?” Her eyes bug. “Holy shit! Is Xander okay? Why can’t I remember any of this? Are you fucking with me?”

I did not anticipate having to break this news. I kind of thought the whole crawling-out-of-her-grave thing would be a giveaway. Although, from what I can tell, the grave seems undisturbed. While I was puking, the earthquake spit out Riley and swallowed everything inside the circle. There’s no sign of the ritual left. The dirt is as smooth as if it had just been leveled with the side of a shovel. Thankfully my jacket and the grimoire are safely off to the side.

I squeeze her arm gently. “Ry, you died. You’ve been dead for almost an entire week.”

She rears back, out of my grasp and away from me. The heel of her flip-flop stabs into the dirt, flicking soil onto her foot. She looks down and sways. When she turns back, the color has drained from her face.

“That’s my grave?” she asks, but it sounds like she already knows the answer. “You brought me back?”

Briefly, says my brain, throwing a guilty look at the grimoire broadcasting that this is a seven-day deal.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I did.”

She lets out a long exhale, her eyes fixed on the grave dirt. “Wow. That’s incredible, Blister. Really, that’s beyond anything I could have ever guessed. I never would have believed that anyone could actually raise the dead. But you really did it—”

“What do you mean you wouldn’t believe it?” I say, half laughing. I never thought I’d get to hear her call me “Blister” again. “The spell was in your new grimoire. The red one? Super old, giant fairy tale lettering?”

She reaches up, pressing the heel of her hand to her eye like she’s dizzy. “I don’t remember a new grimoire. I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s okay!” I say quickly, grabbing her shoulder to steady her. I can feel the roughness of goose bumps on her 98.6 degree skin. There’s a zit starting to break the surface of her right temple. She’s really here, too exact to be a memory. Tears splatter on my cheeks as I choke out, “You’re here. It doesn’t matter how.”

“Actually, it really does matter how,” says someone behind us.

My stomach lurches. Two figures emerge from the darkness, one taller and thin with brown bangs and impossibly long legs, the other shorter with the kewpie-doll face of a Disney Channel star.

June Phelan-Park and Dayton Nesseth. Risen from the dead.

June folds her arms over her chest, her eyes dark under blunt-cut bangs. “What the fuck did you do, Camila Flores?”





EIGHT



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.