“Autumn, if you understood everything that’s been happening, you’d know that I was trying my best to do the right thing by everyone. That I’m trying and trying, but it’s a lot. It’s so much.”

“Well, then, tell me what’s going on, Jamal. We talked about this. Let me help you.”

“Autumn, I want to tell you, I swear, but . . .”

She holds up her hand. “You know what? Whatever dumb excuse you’re about to give me, just save it. I came over here because I wanted to fix things. Because I believed you wanted to too. But clearly, I was wrong.” She steps off the porch, fishes her keys from her pocket. “Catch you later maybe.”

“Autumn.”

“Please, just stop.”

“Autumn, wait. This isn’t like before. This is something entirely different. This is something you wouldn’t even believe if I told you. Damn, I barely believe it.”

And she turns around, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Try me.”

I wipe her face, dry her eyes. “Okay,” I say. “Okay.”

Autumn’s basically a bobblehead of sheer disbelief.

“Well, damn,” she says. “Damn. Like . . . damn.”

“Fucking crazy, right?”

“So this is what you’ve been keeping from me?”

I nod. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to.”

“And no one besides like five people even knows that he’s . . .”

“Yep. It’s wild.”

“There’ve been stories that they were getting close. But close in scientific terms means maybe we’ll figure it out in thirty, forty years. But this . . . this is . . .”

“A total mindfuck.”

“I know you’re not lying, but also, I’m one hundred percent confident you’re lying.”

“I wish I was. I wish none of this were true. Like reanimation is dope, obviously. But also, it’s super confusing. I mean, I’m so sad and angry that he’s . . . and I want to grieve him, I want to mourn my friend, but also this chance he’s gotten, to say goodbye, to do whatever he wants, is like the most beautiful thing ever, and I just want him to enjoy every second of it. I want to celebrate his life with him.”

“Crap, I barely know him, but I know I’m gonna miss him.”

I stare at the grass. “You’re not alone.”

“So, in a couple days Q’s just gonna . . . he’s just gonna, like, turn off?”

I glance at my watch as if it’s the official timekeeper for Q’s remaining life. “Less than two days now. Maybe only a day. He has a four-hour window.”

“Four whole hours? They brought someone back to life, you’d think they’d be able to narrow the window a bit.”

I shrug. “Apparently, reanimation isn’t an exact science.” I take her hand. “So, what have you been up to?”

“Nothing as cool as raising the dead.”

“Underachiever.”

She laughs, and we both wipe our faces, because, allergies.

23