Dying Is The Easy Part

Chapter Fifteen: January 19th

"I feel," Quinn said when they saw Vincent approach, "Like I'm about to rob a bank."

"Why?"

"Look at me!" they gestured down at themself. They were wearing tight black pants, a black sweater, and their black coat. Around their neck was a dark scarf—to keep them warm, but also to hopefully cover some of their face with if they had to. "I look like I'm about to perform a stick-up."

"You're always dressed in all black," Vincent said mildly, leaning against the wall of the art building next to them. He didn't seem at all concerned about what they were about to do—then again, it wasn't like he could suffer any legal consequences if they were spotted. Unless there was such a thing as ghost jail, which Quinn highly doubted.

"What's up, losers?" Joy greeted, rounding the corner with Jun in tow. While he looked just as apprehensive as Quinn felt, Joy was grinning like they were going on a fun field trip and not literally planning to dig up her corpse. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be. This way." Casting one last glance at the dorm building, Quinn motioned for the others to follow them. It was two a.m., so there were barely any lights on anymore, everyone safe and comfortable in their beds. Quinn couldn't believe that this—leading an entourage of ghosts to the cemetery—was what they were doing instead. What even was their life at this point?

Pushing their unease aside, they left the campus behind, making their way through the dormant alleys in silence. Oakriver was sleepy during the day; at night, it was downright comatose. There were no cars, no people—the only soul they encountered was a cat, hissing indignantly at them before it disappeared over a garden wall. Still, somehow Quinn couldn't shake the sense that they were being watched. Vincent seemed to feel the same, as he kept throwing glances over his shoulder every few feet.

Eventually, he ground to a stop with an exasperated groan. "Hannah Rosenthal," he called. "Come out right this second."

For a few beats, no one moved, all of them standing frozen as they squinted down the gloomy alleyway. Finally, Hannah shuffled into the yellow light of one of the streetlamps.

"Hannah," Vincent sighed, softer now. "I thought we agreed that you stay with Josie and Caleb tonight."

"They're so much younger than me though," she mumbled. "I don't want to play tag. I want to come with you."

"Absolutely not," Jun interjected, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he shook his head at her. "This isn't for anyone your age to see. Hell, I'm not even sure it's for my age to see."

"I'm not a little kid!" Hannah protested.

"No?" Vincent asked. "How old are you again?"

"Seventy-seven years old."

"Mh. Try again."

Hannah held his gaze for a few seconds before she deflated. "Twelve."

"That's right. It's not that we don't want you with us—it's just that this is something I don't think you should see," Vincent patiently explained. "Okay?"

Hannah held his gaze for a few seconds before she gave a defeated nod and turned around, shuffling back the way they'd come.

"Hey, ankle-biter!" Joy called after her. "If you're good and stay on the campus, I'll tell you about everything when we get back. Even the gory details."

Hannah immediately spun around, her face lighting up. "Really?"

"Really. Now keep on steppin', young lady, and don't get in any trouble."

"Promise," Hannah breathed before whirling around again. This time, she walked with her back straight and at a quick pace, as if she was afraid Joy would take her offer back if she stuck around too long.