Still Not Dead, page 14
“But she’s not the first.”
“Yeah, but she’s the first one the world will know about.”
“Ohhhh, right. Famous, yeah. Like we talked about before. Man, you should have asked your mom if you could have been the one to get famous.”
That’s kind of a good point. “I just hope she doesn’t get her own reality show,” I say, massaging my forehead. “Because I would know it’s entirely my fault.”
The doors behind us open again, and this time waves of chatting people stream around us onto the sidewalk. Haley must have finished her song/speech, thus concluding the ceremony portion of the funeral.
“Come on,” I say. We need to get inside and find Felix before the reception starts. I lead the way back into the chapel, where we dart around the clumps of milling people.
“I mean, I’m honestly concerned she might be murdered,” a mousy lady says to a man in a bow tie as we walk by. “She said some terrible things in there.”
My mom couldn’t have picked a worse target for this mission. There are so many amazing teenagers out there destined to die young, never allowed to become the firefighters or Nobel Prize winners or life-changing teachers they could have been. But I’m saving Haley Whitney, destined to affect many people’s lives by making them miserable. In a best-case scenario, maybe she’d make history by being the first human to marry a horse.
“Bacon macaroni and cheese?” Felix says, smirking as he holds a tray in our faces.
“H to the yizzle,” Paolo says, grabbing two.
“Sure, thanks,” I say, popping a tiny mac-and-cheese pie into my mouth and trying my best to act as if he’s a waiter I’ve never met before.
“Meet me in the reception hall in ten minutes,” Felix says under his breath. “In the corner of the room near the string orchestra.”
“She’s got a string orchestra for her funeral?” I say, but Felix has already moved on, offering food to another set of funeral guests.
“That was magically delicious,” Paolo says. “I want to eat a hundred of those.”
“Yeah, me, too— Holy shit holy shit,” I say. Five feet away from us, my large uncle Andre, my shrill aunt Deana, and my condescending ten-year-old cousin Tiffany are in a somber conversation with Haley Whitney’s mom. I take a sharp left and pull Paolo with me.
“Are you having a panic attack?” Paolo asks. “Want me to steal someone’s inhaler?”
“No, dude,” I say, looking over his shoulder to make sure my stepmom’s brother and his family haven’t spotted me.
Paolo follows my gaze. “Oh, look at that, yeah. Your annoying aunt and uncle and cousin. That’s random.”
“This should have occurred to me! They live in this neighborhood, and they always go to stupid events like this. Dammit.”
“Okay, dude, you need to calm down. May I remind you that you look like a Hawaiian librarian right now, and I’m sure they don’t remember me.”
“But Felix…”
“You think rich people actually look at the faces of the waiters serving them? Yeah right, dude.”
“Well, let’s just be careful. And make this quick.” We wander deeper into the packed chapel lobby, following an arrow on a placard that says, HALEY WHITNEY FUNERAL RECEPTION.
“Mini cheeseburger?” a tall waiter with sideburns asks, holding out another tray.
“Uh, yeah,” Paolo says, grabbing three. “This is ridiculous.”
I take two. The tall waiter glides away.
“Why have we not been crashing funerals our whole life?” Paolo asks, his mouth bursting at the seams.
“I know. I didn’t think it would be this easy. No one even cares that we’re here.”
“It’s those guys,” a voice says from behind us.
We turn to see the skinny smoking girl from outside standing with Haley Whitney, her parents, and a bunch of other disapproving people.
Haley looks us up and down.
“I’ve never seen either of you before in my life. What the hell are you doing at my funeral?”
“Um,” I say, my arm frozen in the act of depositing another cheeseburger into my mouth.
We’re totally about to get thrown out of this funeral.
“I mean…,” I say. “I thought you were happy to have so many people show up here. So you could beat Violet or whatever.”
“Shut up. I bet you didn’t even know Violet.” Getting thrown out might be a good thing. “I’m happy to have people I know here,” Haley says as her mom strokes Haley’s hair. “Not people in badly fitting suits, who are talking weird shit about me during my eulogy. Okay?”
I glance over at the green-dress skinny girl, who smirks back at me.
“Daddy,” Haley says. “Would you please get Romo so he can throw these two out?”
Her dad stares Paolo and me down. I don’t think he wants to have to go get this Romo guy.
“Please, Daddy! Now! I don’t want them here!”
“All right, sweetheart,” her father says, and he walks away.
“Look, Haley,” I say. “You don’t know us. I’m…Frank, and this is Pao…der.” Damn. I realized too late I should be calling him Steve.
“Your names are Frank and Powder?” Haley says.
“Oh yeah, for sure,” Paolo says.
“Right, and even though you don’t know us, we absolutely know you. We’re such huge fans of yours.” I might as well go for it. “You’re such an expert rider. It’s breathtaking, really.”
I can tell from Haley’s face that she’s hearing us. This is a girl who lives and dies on compliments. Well. That was supposed to be a figure of speech.
“And we also love that horse of yours,” Paolo says. “FireFeet. Very majestic.”
“Uh, yeah. FireFoot really is great,” I say, hoping Haley heard my pronunciation and not Paolo’s. “So when we saw in the paper that this was happening, we were devastated. We had no idea you were an Early. It’s horrible. We’re so sorry. But we wanted to be here to celebrate you. And maybe…well, we hoped maybe we would get to meet you.”
Haley blinks twice and licks her lips.
“These two, Romo,” her dad says, reappearing with a muscular-looking man with a shaved head.
“All right, come on, yous,” Romo says, placing a beefy hand on each of our backs and escorting us away through the crowd. I expect Haley to say something to stop him, but she doesn’t. If only she knew how much was actually riding on her decision to throw us out. She starts to fade into the background behind us, and I have to say, I’m a little relieved. My mom can’t be too upset; we gave it our best shot.
“Hold on, Romo,” Haley says. Oh no. “Bring them back here for a second.”
“This fucking kid,” Romo says under his breath as he turns around and escorts us back the other way.
We’re brought to Haley, who stares at us, expressionless, as she touches her neck. I wonder if she’s like this every day or if it’s a funeral-specific power trip.
“Which competition was your favorite?” Haley asks, a demonic twinkle in her eye.
“Excuse me?” I say.
“You said you’re huge fans of me and FireFoot. So which competition was your favorite?”
So now we’re definitively screwed. I can’t even begin to fake an answer; I don’t know dick about horse riding.
“All of them, really,” I say. “You’re just so impr—”
“Saratoga Springs,” Paolo says. “That was our favorite. The shit you did there was legendary.”
There’s a shift in the air, and I can tell Paolo has somehow said something that might be passable as an actual answer. Hopefully Haley has stopped looking at me, because I’m quite sure I look absolutely shocked.
“Yeah,” I say. “Totally legendary.”
Haley looks at Paolo, then at me.
“Saratoga Springs?” she says. “Are you freaking kidding me? I was a mess at Saratoga. FireFoot had a cold.”
Screwed again.
“Right,” Paolo says. “But the way you bounced back from that competition was the legendary part. After all, it’s only our failures that give true meaning to our successes. Don’t you think?”
Whatever reservations I had before about Paolo smoking pot are completely gone. In spite of the pot—or, hell, maybe because of it—he’s locked into some other plane of existence, drawing upon wisdom and knowledge I had no idea he possessed.
Haley rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I think we should let them stay, Daddy,” she says, as if it were anyone else’s idea but hers to throw us out in the first place. “These guys are sweet. And that one’s kinda cute.” She points at me, like Paolo and I aren’t standing five feet in front of her.
“Okay,” her dad says, subtly shaking his head, like he’s given up all hope of understanding the way his daughter’s mind works. “Whatever you want, sweets.”
“We’ve wasted too much time on this already. I want to go mingle with my real friends,” Haley says, pushing forward, her entourage following her. “Find me inside later,” she says loudly into my ear as she passes.
“Oh, um, okay,” I say.
They disappear into the crowd.
I exhale. “That was incredible, Pow.”
Paolo looks dazed, his eyes unfocused. “I think I just used all of my brain juice.”
“Saratoga Springs? How did you know that?”
“Sometimes I watch the horse channel when I’m high.”
Crowds of people start flowing around us toward the reception hall. We move along with the river of funeral guests, the tide pulling us toward large double doors. Live classical music streams out from the reception hall, underscoring our migration to the other room.
“Man, I think that scary Haley chick has a crush on you, dude,” Paolo says. “You should use that.”
“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll spit in her water, watch her drink it, and get the hell out of here.”
“How will we know if the virus actually passes to her?” Paolo says.
“I have no idea,” I say.
We cross into the reception hall, and I’m instantly intimidated. It’s a huge, ornate ballroom that reeks of wealth: thick red velvet curtains, crystal goblets on every table, impossibly large and shiny chandeliers. Not to mention the ten-piece string orchestra in the corner.
“Damn, this girl’s family must be loaded,” Paolo says.
He clearly has used up all his brain juice if he’s just clueing in to that now.
We head toward Felix, who’s standing alone near the orchestra, holding a tray of waters. “Hey,” I say, speaking loud enough so it will carry over the sound of the violins.
“Care for a water?” Felix asks.
“Yes, absolutely.” I take one off the tray.
“I would also like one,” Paolo says, winking at me as he grabs one.
“So, Feel, can we talk normally for a second,” I say, shifting my volume into a lower register, “or do we have to keep up this pretend thing?”
“Just drink the water and put it back on the tray,” Felix says. “Quickly.”
“Should I take it out in the hall or something so no one sees me do it?”
“Come on!” Felix says, his eyes darting around.
“Okay, geez.” I collect a pool of saliva in my mouth, take a sip of the water, then send it all back into the glass.
“Should I do it, too?” Paolo says, matching our frantic energy.
“What?” Felix says. “No.”
I pop my glass back onto the tray. You can see the saliva bubbles in there (it’s gross), so Felix sticks his pinkie in and does a quick stir of the ice cubes. He gives us a nod and walks away.
But not even ten steps later, he’s stopped by that tall waiter with the sideburns. “Hey, hey, hold up, man. Hold up.”
“Yeah, what’s up?” Felix says, so smooth it seems like he cater-waiters all the time.
“So, look, here’s the deal,” Sideburns Waiter says, quietly enough that Paolo and I need to take a few steps closer to hear. “Some lady over there saw you let that dude spit in one of the glasses of water. I happen to be in full support of that, as this party is full of assholes—especially that chick who’s dying—but you just got spotted, so I gotta send you home.”
This is not good.
“Ah, no,” Felix says. “That guy took a sip and thought something tasted weird in the water, so I was taking this back to the kitchen. Gonna drop it off with the dirties.”
“Nice try, bro,” Sideburns Waiter says. “But you know how much money the family is paying us to cater this thing? You got spotted—it’s time to go.” Sideburns Waiter sees me hovering nearby and throws me a dirty look.
“How’s your night going?” I ask Paolo, trying to make it seem like we’re having small talk and not eavesdropping.
“Not good, dude,” he says. “Don’t you hear what’s happening over there?”
“Yes,” I say, “that’s why I’m…Never mind.”
“Come on, man, I need the money from this job!” Felix says, switching to a new tack. “For my kids!”
“Don’t worry. We’re not firing you. I just can’t let you work this one event.”
“Well, I need to,” Felix says, clearly panicking now. “All right? Please, just let this slide.”
“Bro, let me get real with you,” Sideburns says, starting to lose his cool. “That lady wanted to call the cops on you. I talked her down, said we would handle it, but she’s staring at us right now, and I’m sure she’s three seconds away from getting authorities involved. Or at least ratting you out to that girl’s parents, so—”
“All right, I get it,” Felix says, knowing when it’s time to fold. “I’ll go.”
“Good,” Sideburns says. “Give me your tray, and I’ll watch you leave.”
Felix looks at us for a brief moment. He hands Sideburns his waters, then heads across the room and out the double doors.
“So,” Paolo says. “What the hell do we do now?”
Felix’s absence might not be a total deal breaker, but it definitely means there’s going to be more heavy lifting for Paolo and me. I’m tempted to walk right out the door after him. But then my mom’s going to think I’m a coward or that I don’t believe in her movement, and it’s going to be more trouble than it’s worth.
“Should we follow Felix outside?” Paolo asks. “Maybe he can suggest an alternate plan for us?”
Screw Felix. He should have listened when I said I should leave the room to spit in the glass. Paolo and I can handle this alone. “No, I already have an alternate plan.”
“Really?”
“Sorta.” Another waiter walks by with a bunch of waters, and I grab one. I take a swig from my glass, adding less saliva this time so you can’t see any bubbles. I do a quick scan of the room, which has now entirely filled up with people. Haley is easy to spot, though, surrounded as she is by her huge entourage. I start walking in her direction, keeping my head down to avoid being spotted by my aunt and uncle.
“Wait, so what exactly is the plan?” Paolo asks as he tries his best to keep up with me.
“I’m gonna give her the water myself.”
“That’s the whole plan?”
“Pretty much,” I say.
The string orchestra has been playing very dramatic downer music all night, and it echoes in my ears as we approach Haley’s table. I can make this work. I know I can.
Paolo and I plant ourselves in front of Haley and her crew. “But what do I care if she didn’t show up?” Haley is saying. “She’s a total butter face! After I die, everyone let her know I said that.”
“Last chance to change your mind,” Paolo says quietly.
“Um, hey, Haley,” I say.
Her head snaps toward us, her nostrils flaring, like, Who dares interrupt me at my own funeral? “Oh, it’s just you two,” she says, her face relaxing into an only slightly less scary expression. “Everyone, this is Anne Frank and Baby Powder.”
It takes me a few seconds to understand where she’s gotten these strange nicknames for us.
“Hey,” I say.
“What’s up,” Paolo says.
Every member of her crew is watching us with delighted anticipation, like they can’t wait to see what cruel thing Haley will say to us next.
“So, what the hell do you want?” Haley asks.
“Oh, nothing, really. I brought you this water,” I say, holding out the glass.
Haley scrunches her face up and looks at her friends incredulously. “You brought me a water? Like that’s some big gift or something? What, are you trying to poison me?”
She’s surprisingly sharp. I can tell Paolo’s freaking out.
“Ha, yeah,” I say. “I’m trying to poison you.”
“Ooh, scandalous.” Haley likes that I’ve played along, even though I’m really just telling her the truth. “What kind of poison?”
“Cyanide, mainly,” I say. “A pinch of arsenic.”
“Sexy,” she says, followed by a little feline growl and chomp. Her friends laugh. It’s all extraordinarily mortifying. “Give it to me.”
I pass over the glass. This is going to work. I’m astounded at my own abilities. I think I’m just really good at reading people.
Haley sniffs the glass. “Hmm,” she says.
A few sips should be enough, and then we’re out of here.
Haley splashes the entire glass of water into my face.
I gasp. I am soaked with ice-cold saliva water.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” she says.
“OMG, you are so mean,” the skinny girl in the green dress says, laughing in shock and glee along with the rest of Haley’s friends.
That’s it. There’s no way we’re saving her.
I look to Paolo. His face is frozen into a stunned smile. “You okay, Frankie?” he asks.
“We’re leaving,” I say.
“Hold on a second,” Haley says. “Hold on, poor little baby. That wasn’t personal. I just couldn’t resist. I’m going to die tomorrow, so I get to do things like that.”
“I guess,” I say.
She grabs a cloth napkin off the table behind her and starts rubbing at my face and hair. “Let’s get you dried off, little poopsie-doo.”
