Donald Maass Literary Agency

School Library Journal: A brain aneurysm killed July Cooper, but it can’t destroy her bond with Dino DeLuca. July rises from the dead at the funeral home owned by Dino’s family, and though the two teens had been on the outs for the past year, they are drawn together as they attempt to conceal July’s reanimation. What ensues is messy. July’s body is slowly rotting, and the two trade barbed words while untangling why their friendship ended after Dino met his boyfriend, Rafi. Once again, Hutchinson defies genres. This isn’t a ghost story, and July isn’t a zombie, as she frequently points out. But she can’t eat, she has no heartbeat, and until she’s finally laid to rest, nobody else can die. This inventive take on the life-after-death narrative ponders profound truths. It’s the ones who love us the most who can inflict the deepest wounds and hold us back, but even bitter fights can’t extinguish some connections. Like typical adolescents, uncertain Dino and snarky July seem wise beyond their years one moment and maddeningly immature the next, and their journeys to self-discovery will resonate with readers. VERDICT A grotesque, mordantly funny, and tender look at friendship, for fans of Aaron Starmer’s Spontaneous and Adam Silvera’s They Both Die at the End

Kirkus: When death stops working, avoiding a dead ex-best friend becomes impossible. Dino DeLuca and July Cooper were best friends. Then Dino started dating perfect—and perfectly handsome—Rafi Merza, and their duet dissolved, an end punctuated by July’s unexpected death. Kind of. As Dino is grieving privately by her corpse (the DeLuca’s have a funeral home) July wakes up from death as vocal as ever. Tandem with trying to keep her revenant status secret is analyzing why their once strong pact devolved into dislike. His answer: her jealousy. Her answer: his boyfriend. The truth: somewhere in the middle. Rafi is trans and has a group of friends diverse in ethnicity and sexual orientation who school brash, brassy July on sensitivities to marginalized people (her struggle with being labeled without nuance as “dead” lightheartedly mirrors that of the LGBTQ+ community). The quasi-linear overlap of Dino’s and July’s narratives demonstrate the difficulty in finding the reality between the two sides. Their voices (him: think the dry intellect of Juno circa 2007, her: the audience who rolled their eyes at Juno circa 2007) are as distinctly different as their perceived versions of the truth. Dino and July are both white, while Rafi is of Pakistani descent. The explanation of why deaths cease is underdeveloped but doesn’t stop this from being a decent romp. Unfortunately for Dino, Rafi outranks him in narrative allure. The dissection of a fractured friendship with a pretty fun post-mortem.