Undead Girl Gang(29)

“Right. Sorry. Fuck.” Without thinking, I reach for the elastic band at my wrist and snap it. I sense Riley’s question without having to look at her. You can’t hide new developments from your best friend. Not that I’m trying to hide it.

“It keeps the screaming to a minimum,” I explain.

“Fair enough,” she says in that way that means that she won’t press for more information if I don’t want to give it. And I don’t. There’s no way to explain the rubber band snapping without going into detail about how not okay I was without her. I don’t want it to seem like I’m guilting her. It’s not her fault she’s dead, and I’m not going to fish for a thank-you for bringing her back. Especially because I’m not sure that I’d get one.

We skirt around the edges of the courtyard. I spot Dayton in giant black sunglasses and one of the beanies Riley stole. She gives me a covert wave before unscrewing the lid on a bottle of Gatorade and taking a long drink. I really never thought I would see the day that Dayton Nesseth waved to me from across the courtyard. Who knew necromancy could make you so popular?

Dr. Miller is sitting alone at a card table with an assortment of pastel pamphlets spread over it. She doesn’t smile at me, but she makes a lot of intense eye contact. “Camila. How are you?”

“Fine,” I grumble. I throw a shoulder into Riley’s arm to push her along, but she doesn’t budge. She pulls her hat down even lower and sneaks a glimpse of Dr. Miller.

“You’ve already replaced me with a woman in a red blazer?” she says under her breath.

“Shut up,” I whisper back.

Dr. Miller seems oblivious to the fact that she is the subject of our private chat. She makes a theatrical scooping motion at Riley. “Are you one of Camila’s friends?” She stresses the word friend as though actually physically throwing it in my face. I know what she wants to say is See, Mila, and you said your only friend was dead. And what I want to say in return is Yes, she’s back for a little vacation unless I can figure out a way to sacrifice more moths to keep her alive past Sunday.

Dr. Miller gives a genuine smile as her line of sight travels beyond me and Riley and into the distance. She picks up her hand and gives an almost adorable finger wave.

“Xander!” she calls.

Riley nearly jumps out of her skin. Cursing a mile a minute, she stumbles and spins away, disappearing into the crowd just before Xander appears next to me.

His face is shadowed and grayish with exhaustion, but he manages some of his sparkle when he sees me. He opens his arms, and my brain takes a second to say, This is a weird wave, before I realize that it’s a hug. I’m enveloped in warm Xander smell—eucalyptus deodorant, ocean salty sweat, and a tinge of cumin earthiness. I don’t think we’ve ever hugged before.

Who am I kidding? I know for a fact that we’ve never hugged. We did high-five once, and the memory of it kept me warm for many, many winter nights.

His arms are shockingly solid around my shoulders, squeezing tight without a hint of self-consciousness. I can’t help but notice how his hips latch perfectly inside mine like a key slipping into a lock. The realization makes my knees buckle. How do skinny girls fit with their dudes? Do they just rest up against each other? I could keep Xander Greenway’s sharp hipbones bolted in my softness forever.

Except he lets me go because he’s grieving and probably not thinking about boning down at the Fairmont Academy Celebration of Life.

“You’re back,” I say stupidly.

Yeah, duh, Mila. He’s back because he’s here in front of you, formerly very close to your front.

Has the voice in my head always sounded like June making fun of me?

“I’m back,” he says. “My parents finally let me out.”

His eyes follow the back of Riley’s Giants cap. Fear spikes like thumbtacks in my veins. I reach out and grasp his forearm. Now that I’m touching him—again! Twice in one day!—I have his attention, but I have no idea what to do with it to make sure he doesn’t spot Riley. She didn’t want him to see her. The girls agreed that seeing family was not okay. Do I cry? Or make a joke? Do I even know any jokes? Nora was pretty obsessed with knock-knock jokes a few years ago. I can’t remember the punch lines to any of them, though.

But Xander doesn’t seem to mind that I’m touching him. His head dips, turning the bright light of his attention solely onto me. Tired as he is, his face warms to fleecy softness. I can feel Dr. Miller watching us, waiting for a chance to leap into our conversation, so I use my gripping hand to lead Xander out of earshot of her and her pamphlets.

“Why is she so obsessed with me?” Xander asks as we come to a stop. He flicks a look over my shoulder at Dr. Miller, his face going shadowy and sneering. “I’ve only met her once. I don’t want her help. Didn’t anyone ever tell her that no means no?”

“Maybe you’re irresistible. You’re eighteen now, right? A woman has needs, Alexander.”

That shocks a laugh out of him. It wipes the gloom away for a second. “God, that’s sick.”

Doubt makes my lips itch to keep the words locked inside. I want to keep his laugh floating in the air around us, not wipe it away. “You’re a tragedy gold mine. I only lost one friend this week. You lost two and a sister.”

“It’s not a contest.”