The Funeral Singer Read Online Free Page B

balance. “I’d better go. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Nolan. You’ll be in my thoughts and prayers.”
    I shot my mom a look, shut the door behind me and sank into the settee. Man. I had to have the world’s craziest parents. Between my dad embalming bodies and my mom dealing with … that .
    I placed my head in my hands. This was the first time I’d had such close contact with a mourner, a real mourner, since Annalee Vinetti died. I shuddered at the memory.
    Annalee was twenty-two years old and had just graduated from college when a drunk driver rammed into her brand new Mini Cooper on Route 29. Because of the injuries from the accident, the family held a closed-casket ceremony, but they placed photos of her all around the chapel. She was beautiful.
    Annalee was six years ahead of me, but she’d sung in the Edison High School Chorus and was an alto just like me. For the final song of the service, the family requested “Wishing on a Star”—not the Beyonce version but the original Rose Royce composition. Apparently Annalee had performed that song her senior year. I was never so nervous. It was an amazing song, and I really wanted to do it—and Annalee—justice. I started out strong, with just the right amount of emotion, but when I reached the end of the sixth verse, the part about “hopin’ on all the days to come and days to go,” my voice cracked so badly, I had to stop.
    Twenty-two. Twenty-freaking-two. What were her hopes? What would her “days to come” have brought? I stifled a sob and peered down. I couldn’t finish. My dad faded the music out. The entire chapel was in tears.
    I should have slipped away then, but I wasn’t thinking straight. Instead, I sat and watched the rest of the service. Afterward, as I crept past the chapel door, Annalee’s mother stopped me. Her face was etched with pain, but something in her eyes flickered as she reached up and stroked my cheek. “Beautiful, so beautiful. You’re so much like my Annalee.”
    I froze. I looked nothing like Annalee. Maybe she meant I sang like her.
    One stroke. Two strokes. Three strokes. Just when I thought she’d finished, Mrs. Vinetti grabbed me in a hug so tight, it nearly knocked the air out of me. The smell of her perfume made my head swim, and that was it. I saw black.
    When I came to a few minutes later, the room was in a state of chaos. Apparently I’d set off a chain reaction. Mrs. Vinetti had dropped me to the floor and passed out on top of me. Annalee’s older sister had thrown up on both of us. And one of Annalee’s uncles had begun shouting at Dad as if the whole thing were somehow his fault.
    “Are you okay, honey?”
    I jumped at the sound of my dad’s voice. I was back in the hallway again, sitting on the settee, but I could smell the mixture of Mrs. Vinetti’s perfume and puke as if it still clung to me. Or was that the lilies?
    “Yes, I’m fine. I just … ” I stood and hugged him.
    “What’s wrong?” He gave my back a few tentative pats.
    I pulled away. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be down here in my jeans. I’ll see you later.”
    I bolted down the hallway and through the lobby, waving goodbye to Dawn as I passed her desk. I flung open the front door, but as my feet hit the porch, I stopped short and gasped. Because standing there, with my backpack in his hands, was Zed Logan.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Dressed in jeans and a faded Billabong T-shirt, Zed somehow managed to look even hotter than he had the other day in his suit. He pointed at me. “Melody, right?”
    “Right. I mean, wrong. I mean … Why are you holding my backpack?” Brilliant.
    Zed grinned and handed it to me. “Just admiring the sticker on the front pocket.” Of course. My Grime sticker. The one that shouted: High School Fan Girl! “So. Are you Melody or aren’t you?”
    “It’s Melanie, actually. With an ‘n.’”
    “Then Melody’s what, like, a stage name?”
    A stage name? Seriously? Zed Logan thought I’d have a