Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I don’t think something is a good idea if the risk involves your dad killing me for not stopping you.”
“Fine, I’ll go by myself. You stay home and have your mommy read you a bedtime story.”
She never played fairly. I always felt coerced by her questioning my bravery. Later, I realized it was a challenge to my masculinity. How masculine did she expect me to be at thirteen? I had like … four hairs in my armpits and maybe double that in pubic hairs. Nothing on my chest. Nothing on my face.
I sighed and grumbled. “What time are we sneaking out?”
Josie nudged my arm. “I knew you’d come around. My parents should be asleep by eleven. Let’s meet out front at eleven-thirty just to play it safe.”
She led … I followed. That was us.
That weekend, I learned a lot about Josephine Watts. Mainly, what I learned was I had underestimated her creepy side.
While kids several years older than us jumped at every sound, freaked out, and ran home early, Josie didn’t flinch. She moseyed from headstone to headstone making up stories for what killed each person.
“Beatrice died of a broken heart after her beloved Henry died a year earlier.” She traced each name with her finger. “Calvin died when his wife found out he was cheating on her. She murdered him in his sleep, took their two kids, and fled to Canada.”
I sat with my back against Beatrice’s headstone, her story seemed less haunting. “You’ve scared everyone off.”
Josie shrugged. “The zombie apocalypse isn’t real. I don’t know why everyone is afraid of dead people. I mean … they’re dead. Just empty bodies.”
“Do you believe in Heaven?”
“No. But don’t tell my parents. It’s funny … they thought it was okay for me to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny because they thought it was fun and cute. But them believing in God is even more ridiculous because they’re adults. They should know better than to believe in something you can’t prove. Right?”
She was asking the wrong person. I believed in God. There had to be a god and a Heaven so that there could be the devil and a Hell. My dad was going to Hell for cheating on my mom, the way Calvin’s soul was probably in Hell for cheating on his wife in Josie’s made-up world.
“Can you imagine being buried alive?” I asked.
“That doesn’t happen very often. Instead of putting bells on the corpse’s toes like they used to do, they use machines to see if the heart is working. That’s what Roland Tompkins told us. Don’t you remember? You were there too.”
I spaced off during Josie’s long conversations with the undertaker. Mostly, I thought about my next meal, but occasionally I’d imagine what songs would be played on the organ. Probably Schubert’s Ave Maria or Handel’s one about feeding his flock.
“When I die, I’m going to donate my body to science. After, of course, I donate my organs. Well, I suppose it will be my family donating my organs, if I have a family. My parents might be dead by then. I’m not getting married or having kids, so I won’t have them to make that decision. Maybe Benji will do it for me. What do you want done with your body, Colten?”
“I want to be buried in a cemetery so my family can visit me.”
“That’s selfish. You should save lives by donating your organs. And help medical students by donating the remains of your body to science. When they’re done with your body, your family will get the ashes. I don’t know … maybe they can bury the ashes, and you can still have a headstone. We’ll ask Roland when we see him again.”
“Why are you not getting married? Who’s going to love you when your parents are dead?”
“Benji.”
“What if your parents got in a car accident with Benji, and they all died, leaving you with no family except grandparents who will probably die before you? Then what?”
Josie traced the name on another headstone. I couldn’t see it; we were too far away, and the closest streetlight flickered off. “Then you’ll have to love me. That’s what friends do, right?”
“No. Friends like each other; they don’t love each other.”
She scoffed. “You can love a friend without it being … you know … more than friends. And we’ve kissed, so we’re sometimes more than friends.”
“Well, I’m going to get married. I bet you do too. My mom always tells me the future is unpredictable. Whatever I’m thinking now probably won’t be what actually happens to me.”
“BOO!”
I nearly pooped my pants when Josie sneaked up behind Beatrice’s headstone.
“Ha! Scared you.” She plopped down beside me.
“D-did not,” I insisted despite my hammering heart and stuttered words.
She rested her head on my shoulder. “Colten?”
“Hmm?”
“If nobody else wants my ashes, will you take them?”