Finished with the mystery of Dwayne, he returned to the mystery of Jerry. Kai and Theo solemnly led them to the back of the church, to a cemetery. Apollo found the stillness disturbing, especially among such obvious neglect. Layers of sunbaked leaves covered the graves, snapping like kettle-cooked chips as the crew traipsed forward. A loud rattle erupted from behind Apollo, sending him sprinting into Theo, who laughed.

“Did you guys not hear that?” Apollo asked, scanning the ground. “I think it might have been a rattlesnake.”

Kai joined Theo in laughter. Zed chuckled, tapping Apollo on the shoulder with a spray paint canister. Apollo frowned, embarrassed. He should have recognized that noise. “You guys are going to vandalize a grave? That’s… I don’t know about that.”

Zed grabbed his hand, leading him to a small headstone engraved, Here Lies Jerry Urich. 2001–2017. Apollo stared at the grave, squeezing Zed’s hand. He was stunned by how pristine the headstone was. It was made of iron, but it shone like alabaster. Even the leaves around the grave seemed immaculate, holy.

Zed was silent as paint sprayed from the canister, bathing the headstone in a coat of sanguine red. Apollo closed his eyes. A few feet away, Kai and Theo stood quietly. Apollo wondered if this was some sort of initiation. Were the Celestials a gang? He thought they just liked the name because they smoked a lot. Was he about to be jumped? And how much paint was in that damn can? The sharp hiss was relentless, a sample looped for too long. Or was that just Kai and Theo continuing to laugh? He didn’t know. His eyes were closed.

He opened them to find Zed standing completely still, her bony knees locked stiffly like the legs of a card table. “Come here,” she grunted over her shoulder, contorting her torso and offering her hand. Apollo stepped forward uneasily, scrutinizing Zed’s reddened palm.

“There’s no way Jerry, whoever he was, deserved that,” he stammered. “Seriously, guys, what the fuck is this? Two crimes in one day? Are we career criminals now?”

“Shut up, Apollo,” Kai said, approaching the grave. “Your homepage is The Pirate Bay. That’s crime. Graffiti is more like a public service.”

“This is a private graveyard,” Apollo retorted.

“Graffiti doesn’t believe in privacy, dipshit. And neither did Jerry. He always said he wanted to be cremated and spread into a river, but his mom buried him because she got a discount from the church. So we bury her bullshit.”

“Um, sure, but who the fuck is Jerry? You’re talking like this nigga was Master Splinter.”

“Jerry was who brought us all together,” Theo interjected. “He and I used to take tennis lessons in East Point when I first moved here. He was from Riverdale, like you guys. He introduced me to Zed and Kai and Sol, and we all had the same private coach in Pointe South after our East Point coach retired. He was on the tennis team with them back at your school before you got skipped and Sol got locked up and he got…”