The End or Something Like That Read Free Page B

weird.
    â€œNothing,” he said. “Nothing.”
    The mortuary was in a run-down strip mall. A neon sign said OPAL’S FAMILY MORTUARY . The O on the sign was burned out so it was really PAL’S FAMILY MORTUARY, which made me feel a lot better.
    On one side of the mortuary was a Thai restaurant. On the other side was a Hairport.
    There were three cars in the parking lot and one person.
    The person was a redheaded skinny kid in a tank top, green Pumas, and he was sitting on the curb right in front of the mortuary.
    His face was covered with zits, and I felt like I shouldn’t look at him. I also felt like maybe I’d seen him before but I hadn’t.
    He sat on the sidewalk holding a slushie.
    No Ms. Dead Homeyer.
    â€œThis place is an armpit,” Skeeter said.
    â€œYeah,” I said.
    And then his phone rang.
    â€œIt’s my mom,” he said. “Hang on for one second.” He walked over by the Thai restaurant to talk.
    I had never been to a real mortuary. I’d never seen where they actually put the bodies. Where they take them.
    My heart pounded.
    A year ago tomorrow Kim died.
    Friday, May 26th at 5:48. The date and time I’d written over and over and over again in notebooks, inside book covers, on the wall of my closet.
    A year ago tomorrow, at 5:48, my best friend died, and I’d just had a visitation from a dead lady.
    Why? Why not you, Kim?
    I took a breath.
    Maybe she would be in the mortuary with Ms. Dead Homeyer. Maybe this was what I’d been waiting for.
    The kid with the zits made a loud sucking sound with the straw. I ignored him.
    A plane flew over and the kid said, “Do you know what time it is?”
    I still acted like I didn’t hear because I was thinking about dead bodies and he was annoying.
    â€œHey,” he said. “What time is it?”
    I put my hand to my forehead like I couldn’t see him because it was too bright.
    â€œDo. You. Know. What. Time. It. Is?”
    He was wearing a watch.
    He saw me look at it and said, “It’s broken.”
    So I looked at mine. Kim’s watch really. She’d given it to me along with her iPod, her set of Roald Dahl books, and her old American Girls dolls, which I didn’t really want even though she had all of them. Even Marie Grace.
    â€œFive forty,” I said.
    He stared at me. “What?”
    â€œFive forty,” I said again.
    He took a few seconds and I thought maybe he was high, but then he said, “Oh. Thanks.”
    Then he said, “I already knew that. I knew it before you even said it,” he said.
    He slurped more on his straw. It was so loud it echoed.
    Skeeter was still talking. I looked at the Hairport.
    â€œThat your boyfriend?” the kid said.
    I looked at him. Why was he talking to me?
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIs that kid your boyfriend?”
    Skeeter, who one time when we were kids had to go to the ER because he ate carpet, lived in the next neighborhood down and at the moment he was my only friend. But he was not my boyfriend.
    â€œNo,” I said.
    Then he said, “But he likes you.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “No. He doesn’t like me.”
    â€œYeah, he does,” the kid said, and I felt myself start to burn, which was stupid.
    He didn’t like me like that. No boys liked me like that.
    â€œI can tell he’s into you,” the kid said.
    â€œWe Don’t Like Each Other.”
    He still smirked but he said, “Okay. Okay. No big deal. I just thought you’re so dressed up, must be a date.”
    He put his mouth back on the soggy straw.
    â€œWe’re going there,” I said, pointing to the mortuary.
    The kid turned and looked.
    â€œOh. Bummer. Who died?”
    Why was Skeeter taking so long?
    â€œWho died?” he said again.
    â€œMy teacher.”
    â€œYour teacher?”
    â€œMy earth science teacher,” I said.
    He nodded. “You loved