It is a very large marker—the angel alone is at least five feet tall and the base it’s sitting on adds a couple more feet to its final height. Its wings are half-unfurled, and it looks down at Shelly and Estelle beside her, the expression on its face stern, but gentle. It holds a banner with ESTELLE K. J. PARK written on it.

“It’s nice,” says Shelly, because she’s not sure what else to say. “Big.”

Estelle preens. “It’s perfect. Exactly what I wanted.”

Shelly remembers when Estelle told Grandma she wouldn’t leave until she saw her angel. “What are you going to do now?”

Estelle pauses. Her face is turned toward the statue. “I don’t know,” she says. “This was all I wanted. To make sure they did right by me. Set it up proper. There’s no telling with kids these days.”

The angel is at least twice as tall as Shelly. “I don’t think kids set up your headstone.”

Estelle snorts. “You’re all kids to me.” She reaches up to pat the banner in the angel’s hands. “I guess this is the end of the line. Time to go.”

Shelly should let Estelle go wherever the dead do when they move on. She should give Estelle the final nudge she needs to go into the unknown.

That’s what Shelly should do. Joseph said he didn’t want to see Shelly fade away. Shelly’s not sure she wants to make Estelle fade yet, either. Who knows what’s waiting for her on the other side.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she says, reaching back to free her hair from her ponytail. “You could come with me instead.”

Estelle turns away from her statue, looking Shelly over. Grandma never explicitly told Shelly not to invite a ghost to stay past their time, but it’s such a breach of usual practice that Shelly knows she’s not supposed to make the offer. It’s obviously against the rules.

Estelle doesn’t know the rules, though, and Shelly gets the impression she wouldn’t care much about them if she did. “Why not?” she says. “I’m dead. It’s not like I’ve got a lot going on.”

13

Shelly carries Estelle back to the house tangled up in her hair. Having Estelle with her for the walk makes it less scary—the cold weight of another person’s soul traveling with her the whole way home is comforting, even if Estelle doesn’t talk too much. Ghosts tend to be disoriented when you move them from a place they’ve gotten used to. Estelle had been in the cemetery long enough to settle in.