Notes: Don't own nothing, you know the drill.

Miguel figured his life could only get worse if it was over. From where he was sitting now, it was hard to tell.

He had only been seizing his moment! Ernesto de la Cruz wouldn't give bad advice, and Miguel had proof that he was Miguel's great-great-grandfather, so that made his advice double good! He couldn't help it that the tomb was locked. He couldn't help it that his family hated music! It wasn't his fault he had to break in to borrow his own family's guitar!

So whatever was happening now? It felt like a punishment, but it couldn't be. His own parents couldn't see him, and nobody else could hear him. He tripped over stuff on the ground but couldn't pick anything up to get someone's attention. He panicked, and he ran… and he fell in a grave.

And his life might have been over, for real. Passing through people, invisible, couldn't pick anything up… It was like he was a ghost. He might have been dead, but he still felt perfectly alive, and if he felt alive but was really dead, then… thinking about it too hard made his head hurt. He squeezed his head in his hands and tried to rock the freak-out away.

He felt a little better when he heard a dog barking. He knew that one bark perfectly: his favorite dog, Dante. Maybe he was looking for him? Miguel called him from the bottom of the grave.

"Dante!"

There he was instantly, the best dog in the world, along with another person! She was all dark and shadowed from the candles and fireworks, but she made that surprised abuelita noise when she saw him. She could see him! And she could talk to him!

"Miguel? What are you doing down there?"

Did he know her? Maybe he did. Miguel jumped for her hand when she reached down to pull him up. "I don't know? I was running, and nobody could see me, and I couldn't touch them-"

She pulled him out, and Miguel saw bones.

So he screamed.

Then she screamed, and he fell backward into the grave when she let go. Dante barked at him all worried, and he was right back where he started except now there was a skeleton lady yelling about him.

"Julio! Julio, he's alive!"

"He's alive?!" said a voice who might have been Julio. Another person looked down at him from above, and the fireworks lit them both: two skeletons, one Julio and one the lady. "And he can see you?!"

"I touched him! Plain as night, I touched him!" the lady fussed. "But he's not dead!"

Miguel knew a Julio, but it couldn't have been that Julio. The more he looked, though, the more the skeletons felt familiar. Especially with the clothes they wore… They almost looked like…

"Tía Rosita?" said Miguel. "Y Papá Julio? But you're both dead."

Papá Julio answered back, "And you're supposed to be alive, mijo! Come up here-"

They both pulled him out of the grave this time, and now that Miguel wasn't terrified, he could look at them a little better. It really was them, just like on the ofrenda, just… less alive. Or maybe more alive? He knew them from the pictures in the hallways and the ofrenda, always the same face, never moving or talking. Now Tía Rosita was fussing over him and hugging him like his abuela Elena did, and Papá Julio kept poking him in the arm.

"I don't know!" he said. "He acts pretty dead!"

"Don't say that, 'mano! He's so young!"

"I only say it 'cause he's still mostly alive!" Papá Julio pinched his cheek.

"I-I don't remember dying?" said Miguel. "So maybe I didn't?"

"Oh that doesn't necessarily-"

There were more skeletons all around them- they'd been staring for a while- but only one of the walked up and started talking to them. It was definitely Tía Victoria, because she was just as tall and mean as she looked in her photo. "What are you doing here?"

"Hola, Tía Victoria..." Miguel waved and tried to smile. He didn't really think it would make her less scary, but maybe she would stop glaring at him.

She didn't. She just put her hand on her hip and poked at him like Papá Julio. "Why can he see me?"

"He might be dead," said Papá Julio.

"You stop that!" Tía Rosita covered his ears.

"Oye! Rosita! Julio!"

"Victoria, listen up!"

Here come two more skeletons, a pair of skinny twins in hats. Tíos Oscar and Felipe, obviously. Miguel was getting the hang of this. They ran out of the crowd out of breath. Miguel wondered how that worked.

"I-it's Imelda!" said Oscar.

"She can't cross over!" said Felipe. "She tried armfuls of marigolds and none of them worked!

"She's gone to the D.O.D.! And she's furious!" said Oscar.

"Oh, hola, Miguel," said Felipe.

"Hola," said Miguel.

"Hola," said Oscar.

Then Oscar and Felipe both yelped. Miguel had heard so many people yell today that he was getting bored of it.

"Oh, hey!" said Papá Julio. "The D.O.D.! They can probably fix thing thing with Miguel, too!"

"But can we even bring him to the D.O.D.?" asked Tía Victoria. "He doesn't know the way, and he hasn't died to be reaped."

"Well, I don't know! Maybe he can do it?" Papá Julio reached down and scooped up a handful of marigold petals from a grave, then put them into Miguel's hands. "Here, mijo, try throwing these into the air!"

Miguel felt kinda stupid. He tossed the petals into the air. They fluttered down around his head. Everybody was quiet. Tía Rosita hugged him.

"Well, okay. That didn't work." Papá Julio shrugged. "So we'll walk to the D.O.D.!"

Felipe and Oscar nearly wailed. "But that would take hours!"

The D.O.D., whatever it was, sounded kind of important and kind of scary. Miguel got out of Tía Rosita's hug and pulled Dante close to him. Having him around, with a pulse and real skin, kept him calm enough to speak up. "What's the D.O.D.?"

Tío Felipe began, "It's the Department of Death."

"They're in charge of gathering the newly dead souls from the Land of the Living," said Tío Oscar. "And showing them the way to the afterlife."

Tía Rosita held his shoulders when he started to feel sick. "And they're all very nice people, Miguel. They'll know you're not supposed to be dead yet and get you back to your family in no time!"

Miguel started to feel worse. "My family..."

Papá Julio smiled. "Yeah, and you'll like them anyway! They drive these big, shiny black cars- you like cars, right, Miguel?"

"Not a lot..." A shiny black car, huh? Considering one was driving up now, literally through the crowd of regular people, Miguel could make a pretty good guess. "There's one."

It was cool because it reminded him of a De la Cruz movie. The car was one of those super old kinda ones that were all curvy, like mobsters drove. Out of the car came one more skeleton, one he didn't recognize at all. He wore a long black cloak with a hood, and in his hand, he held a scythe taller than he was. Dante whimpered next to him, and Miguel pulled him into a big hug to keep from passing out.

"It's the Grim Reaper!"

The Grim Reaper laughed. "Not 'the' Reaper, kid. Just one of them. I'm looking for a Mr. Miguel Rivera."

Tía Rosita held him tight. Now they were a chain; a skeleton holding a boy holding a dog. "This is him! But he hasn't died, señor! There's been a mistake!"

"Don't worry, miss." The Reaper stood back and held the car door open for them. "Well get this all sorted out along with Miss Imelda back at the office."

"Oh, thank goodness!" said Papá Julio. "I was so tired of thinking hard already!"

Tía Victoria took his other shoulder and, together, marched him into the car along with Dante. The Reaper didn't look too happy about it, but the more he glared, the tighter Miguel hung on. The closer he held to the one friend he had, the better he felt, because Dante was hot and hairy where his Tías were pointy and room-temperature. His whole family piled into the car with him and sat down together on the big round leather seats. Only Miguel and Dante sunk into the cushion.

"Thank you so much for this, Señor Reaper," said Papá Julio.

The Reaper got into the car last. "Please. Mr. Hurley will do just fine."

It was such a normal name for a grim reaper. The car drove off, and then up into a road of marigolds that spiraled up into the sky. Nobody talked, and like all Rivera family car rides, the radio stayed off.