Cheekbones arrives the next day with my necromancer kit of goods. It's open and everything's a mess, but it's all there and in the same condition I'd left them in. Stunned, I thank him. Cheekbones gives me an awkward smile, and shuffles past me. That's the first sign something's up.

"Don't mention it," he tells me, when I thank him again. His eyes don't meet mine. "It was the least I could do since I was kind of the reason why that happ...ened..."

Petey's Non-Sentient Head sits half-submerged in a bathroom sink full of ice and juice.

"Sorry," I say, for some reason embarrassed. Hurried, I unzip my kit and pull out a folded cooler bag. I unfold it and flap it open in panic when it doesn't open faster. "Pretend Petey's a decoration on an unappetizing bowl of fruit punch. I had to improvise. It's a weird necromancer thing. I don't know. Post-revival-revival doesn't make sense."

Cheekbones winces. "It's not like I think it's bad or anything," he mumbles, as I scoop piles of sticky ice cubes into the bag. He squints a little more at Petey's head floating in the sink as if deliberating his next words. "Are you ready to go?"

I pop Petey's head into the bag and zip it up, trying not to be so self-conscious. "Sure thing."

The drive's quiet. I don't know what to say, and Cheekbones doesn't seem to be saying much either. He looks out of the window the entire time, slow-tapping his fingers on the ledge of his car door. I'm crawling out of my skin. Half of my interactions with Petey usually result in name-calling. Sometimes we have back-to-back repartee about responsibilities. This, I know nothing about.

That's it. I don't know if he's still mad or upset. I don't know if this is normal. The first time we drove to the high school, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. I thought we clicked pretty well, actually.

I'm a licensed necromancer, for crying out loud. Focus on the big picture. I've brought people back to life, I can deal in the sudden explosion of my feelings. Only one of them has to do with Petey being a third wheel in a beer cooler bag on the backseat, anyway.

"How'd you get my kit?" I venture to ask, as we're waiting for the last light to turn green. That should be a safe question. We're almost at the parking lot anyway. "I mean, with the muscles Miss Officer Massive Guns is toting--"

"She's my sister," Cheekbones says, quiet.

I gawk at him, but he's still looking out the window. I stare at the road ahead, then at the red light above. "So," I drag out, "is your entire family just really hot, or--"

"Does it matter?" He doesn't sound like it bothers him. But it doesn't sound like he's too happy about it either. "None of us are going to be anything with you after you leave town."

"Oh," I say, and I'm surprised by how much that sentence hurts me. Sticks and stones may break physical bones, but words kill the necromancer. "Yeah." What we have right now is strange, uncomfortable, and worrying. "Hey, I--"

A car behind us honks its horn. I curse and slam the gas and then the brakes right after. If we weren't both wearing a seatbelt, I'd have sent us both flying out the windshield.

I wheeze, winded, at the red light. The car behind us lets out a long series of honks before it settles. Cheekbones stares wide-eyed at the light, one hand still on the Oh Shit Handle. He looks at me, and then he's bursting out in laughter so hard his head's slammed back against the headrest.

I stare, bewildered.

Cheekbones isn't old. It's likely he's younger than me. But he's already got laugh lines around his eyes when he's happy. When he smiles, his lips quirk up one higher than the other. His lips are uneven, I realize. One side doesn't connect to the corner of his mouth. It's like he'd split his upper lip there when he was younger and it didn't heal to be what it'd been before. And I've kissed that mouth. I've bit that lip.

Before I know it, I've spoken. "I meant it, what I said."

"Meant what?" Cheekbones's toothy, breathless laugh is genuine. It's mind-boggling. He's okay with the knowledge that I'd dig him up and bring him back to life if he left this world early. He likes spending time with me. He enjoys the ride I'm on.

And I'm on board too.

I'm serious. I've never been more serious in my life. "I want to still be with you, even after I leave town."

The laugh fades. The expression on his face shutters to close. His eyebrows furrow and he purses his lips. "Light's green," Cheekbones manages out, short. He turns his head away. "You'll miss it."

Even after we've parked and head to the woods, there's not much else to it. The tension's grown. I'm not overthinking it.

Something changed between yesterday and this morning. Was it his sister? His mom? Some packmate?

Cheekbones takes a whiff of Petey, grimaces at the combination, and starts to track him down. I carry Petey over and watch Cheekbones and his broad shoulders still with every twitch of his nose.

The woods to Cheekbones's old high school are as massive as they are dense. The trees are so thick and packed together that I can't tell where we've gone and where we haven't. I almost think someone put in a looping spell for this location until we come across an open clearing.

Cheekbones stiffens. That's a bad sign.

I push past him.