Adventures of a New Year's Kiss: A Holiday Romantic Mystery (Funeral Crashing Young Adult Mystery Books) (10 page)

My anger returned. Ahh! Ariel! She was totally ruining my mood as usual. I should have made her go and get Suzie's necklace. Although, I didn't want to ruin Troy's night by making his date ditch him on New Year's Eve even if Ariel should right her wrong.

Why was I thinking about Ariel? I shook my head like it might make her leave my thoughts. I looked at my phone to check the time.

I had a text. My heart leapt. Ethan? No. It was Ariel.
Fine. I'll go get Suzie's necklace and give it to her. If I miss my NYE kiss with Troy, it's all your fault.

Anger filled my throat. I had to breathe. Why did I let Ariel get to me like this? I resisted the urge to text her back and tell her off. The New Year was about to start. Did I really want my last thoughts of this year and my first thoughts of next year to be of her? No. I wanted those moments to be filled with all things Ethan.

I clicked out of my texts and looked at the time like I had originally intended to do. I only had four minutes until midnight. I walked faster, constantly looking around for Ethan. He had texted that he was near the edge of the stage. I was almost there. I was definitely going to make it on time. I got there and looked around. There was no sign of anyone I knew. The whole area was packed with people. There was no way I was going to find him in the next few minutes. Where was he? I didn't even see Dave, Mike, or anyone I knew. It was just a sea of endless faces and winter jackets.

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!" The MC Yelled.

Oh no. I froze. This was it.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" The MC yelled.

It was midnight! I turned to see the ball drop in the middle of the square. Cheers erupted. People embraced each other. It seemed like everyone around me swooped his or her significant other into a New Year's kiss. Tears welled up in my eyes. This was all Ariel's fault. I had missed my first New Year's kiss.

Just as I thought that, I felt a hand grab my arm and spin me around. For a second my whole body tensed at the surprise of the contact, but then I was looking up at Ethan's face. My eyes met his.

"Happy New Year, Kait," Ethan said, smiling down at me.

Then he leaned down to kiss me before I could even reply. As my lips met his, fireworks exploded all around us and then they disappeared. Ethan's arms wrapped around my waist and underneath my coat, pulling me to him. It was like we were one for a brief moment.

Ethan deepened the kiss, our tongues touching, and I lost all sense of time or propriety. I kissed him back with the same fervor he seemed to be feeling. I could barely breathe, but I didn't care. I didn't want to come up for air. I lost my hands in his silky hair, while his hands ran up my back as he continued to kiss me.

My legs quivered, but I managed to stay upright. I didn't want this kiss to end. Ever. I pressed my body further into his, moving my arms down his back.

"Ow," Ethan said and pulled away from me suddenly.

Cold air rushed in. I felt a little shell shocked at the loss of contact, but then as Ethan came into focus, I laughed. He was sucking on his index finger. I looked down. The safety pin that was holding my one dress strap in place had come undone and Ethan had stuck himself.

"Are you okay?" I said.

Ethan laughed. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

The thing is, if it wasn't for that safety pin a lot more than nothing might have happened. Well, okay, not that much more since we were in a public place and surrounded by people, but we had definitely gotten a little carried away. I didn't mind that, of course, but if we had kept going, whoa. Wait. Were we already at that part of our relationship? We were flying through the milestones - first dating, then in a relationship, and then saying I love you, and now I had to worry about taking the next step? We'd only been dating a few months, but if that kiss was anything to go by... Wow. The New Year was already giving me something big to think about.

"Happy New Year, Ethan," I said trying to act normal, but inside I was totally freaking out.

###

Currently available for FREE!

Read the excerpt and see how Kait and Ethan first got together.

Funeral crashing is a little weird, I suppose, for someone my age. I’m sixteen, almost seventeen, and I just started my junior year at Palos High School in Palos, IL. It’s in the southwest suburbs of Chicago. Still, I’m not Harold from
Harold and Maude
, just to make that clear. I love movies and that one is funny and dark, but I’m not like him. I don’t stage fake suicides or drive a hearse. He was dark and somber and totally weird. I don’t think I’m like that. I like normal things like regular cars. Actually, I’d really love a bright blue convertible. And, I’m not obsessed with death. I just like going to funerals.

I’m kind of young to be a professional mourner, though, right? That’s what they call it if you’re old school. It tends to be in reference to groups of old ladies, who just love to attend funerals. Maybe they’re trying to get ideas for their own funeral. Maybe they want to beat the Joneses’ and get a shinier coffin and better flowers than their neighbor had. Or, maybe they just like funerals, like I do. And, when I say funerals, I’m including the wake and the actual burial. They’re both part of the same process.

I actually once found a website advertising an exciting career as a professional mourner! I’ll admit it - I was googling. It said you could make $500 a day and all you had to do was start calling funeral homes and offer your services. Now that’s an awesome after school job! So, I called, but none of them called me back. I guess it wasn’t a lucrative career after all. It doesn’t matter. I go to them anyway for free.

I know, I know. What more can I say to explain? It’s simple. Super simple. I happen to like funerals and I completely realize that it makes me seem like a totally and utterly bizarre girl. Okay, I’m weird. Yes, I’m a freak. I admit it. Hey, I’m not going to make fun of you for singing along to the latest Miley Cyrus or Justin Bieber song or anything. You know you do. Those songs are catchy. Believe me, it wouldn’t be the first time someone told me I was weird. My ex-best friend, Ariel Walker, loves to tell me how strange I am whenever she gets the chance.

“Kait Lenox is a freak!” tends to follow me around everywhere, at least when Ariel is around. I’m usually busy trying to blend into the wall when she walks by now. It makes life easier, much easier, and I’ve actually gotten quite good at it. I doubt most of the student population even knows I exist, unless Ariel points me out to them or something.

Ariel was named after
The Little Mermaid
. You know, the really cute kids movie? Her mother loved it. Well, my ex-BFF Ariel didn’t grow up to be a sweet little singing mermaid, let me tell you. We were best friends until our freshman year of high school and then poof! She was gone with the popular crowd, like we had never even known each other. Well, we don’t know each other unless she stops to tell me how weird I am. Then she’s happy to talk to me. That was the year my mother died too. Can you believe that? See what I mean? Ariel is not a nice and sweet singing mermaid. Her mother should have named her Ursula, after the Sea Witch.

Yes, my mother died a little over a year and a half ago. She had ovarian cancer, but by the time the doctors found it, it had already spread. It was like one minute she was diagnosed and two months later she was gone. I try not to think about it. It still makes me really sad and if I dwell on it, I just get depressed. I start thinking about things like if I ever get married she won’t be there. Not that I remotely have any prospects, but you know, if I ever do.

I miss her. I really miss her. I’d give anything to have her back and wipe away those last two months. The last moments my mother was alive, she was unconscious in our living room, dying. It’s still depressing to walk into the living room. I can almost still see where the hospital bed was, even though my dad has replaced it with a leather couch and a brand new flat screen TV. We all deal with grief in different ways.

The funeral was actually a relief. It was the first funeral I had ever attended. I mean nobody in my family or any family friends or anything had died in the fourteen plus years I had been alive and then the first one to go is my mom. Sure, I had grandparents die before I was born, but I wasn’t born yet, so I never knew them. Anyway, it was a memorable first funeral. I loved my mom more than anything else and it was comforting having all of the people who loved her all around us, even if most of them were just family. And, you know what? It was a nice funeral for being really depressing and all.

It was really cool hearing all the stories about my mom. Things she had never mentioned to me. Like, I didn’t know she lived in Los Angeles, California for three months when she was twenty-six just to see if she liked it. She slept on her friend’s couch and everything! She was too in love with my dad at the time to stay, but wow, my mom had an adventure! She lived in Hollywood! Where they make movies! I love movies. Maybe one day I’ll go into filmmaking even. But, anyway, my mom was there in LA with the movie stars! How cool is that?

Needless to say, the funeral was actually the best part of that whole ordeal. I sound intellectual there, don’t I, using the word ordeal? I like to read too – anything and everything. My favorite books range from
The Shining
by Stephen King (very creepy) to
Gone With The Wind
by Margaret Mitchell (classic romance) to
Shopaholic
by Sophie Kinsella (funny chic lit). See, I’m not all dark and dreary. A good book is a good book when you like to read as much as I do. I suppose some of my reading affinity comes from my best friend having ditched me, becoming the weird girl, and having no friends at all upon starting high school. Suddenly, you get a lot of time on your hands to do stuff like read.

So, yeah, I’m not a Goth girl, by the way. I don’t wear all black and I haven’t dyed my hair black either. I did put bleach blonde highlights into my hair last year, but they’ve all kind of grown out now and my hair is mostly back to it’s reddish blonde again. It’s kind of rusty really. My mom always said it was strawberry blonde and that it made my green eyes stand out. I think she was just being my mom because my hair looks rusty to me.

Oh, and to be Goth you have to know it inside out and be good at fashion, in a Goth way. It’s not all just wearing black and I’m not good at fashion, by any means. I mostly just wear jeans and T-shirts. To the funerals, I dress up and yes, I do wear black. It’s a funeral, you’re supposed to. You’re respecting and remembering the dead, you know? You should look nice and black is the accepted color for mourning. Besides, the whole point of crashing is to blend into the wake or funeral and fit in, so a black outfit can be key. And, I am there to mourn with them, so it’s good to play the part.

So, basically, I’m not a total freak, like Ariel Walker makes me out to be. I just like funerals, which is why I’m at a wake on Wednesday night, instead of at home watching crappy reality television shows or teen dramas like everyone else. And, okay, we do have TIVO and I can always catch them online later, so it’s not like I’m missing anything.

It’s a wake for Liz O’Reilly. She was only nineteen and died of a drug overdose - a heroin drug overdose to be exact. It made the paper. There have been a lot of overdoses at Laurel Community College in the last two months and it’s not the kind of area you’d think would have a major drug problem. I mean, pot, sure, but heroin? Heroin is a hardcore drug. It’s something you’d expect to see a problem with in the inner city, not here in the squeaky clean suburbs.

I saw the news article before I even read the obituary. The obituary just said she was taken too soon from her loving family. Nobody wants to admit that his or her kid was a druggie. Things like that are never in the obituary. Her picture is what really got to me. It made my heart constrict and everything, it was so sad. Liz was really pretty from the photo. You’d never even think of her as using drugs, at least not enough to overdose. Pot, maybe. Alcohol, sure, she’s a teenager. Heroin, no way would she be the type to even try it. I guess you can never tell, though. It’s crazy.

Liz looked like your average American girl - dark hair, green eyes, tall, thin, and young. I’d bet anything that they used her high school graduation photo for the obituary. It just looked like one of those photos. Liz was smiling and clear eyed, and had her whole life ahead of her. Now, instead, a year later, she was dead and I was attending her funeral. You never knew where life would take you or when it would be taken away from you. Carpe diem, you know?

As a note, you have to be careful when crashing a funeral or a wake. I usually stay toward the back and keep my head down. I like listening to everyone else talk, but I don’t actually want to get in on the conversation. Talking to people is a good way to get caught funeral crashing. I mean, you can talk to people, but you have to be very, very careful what you say. When the only info you have on a person is from an online obituary, it’s very easy to get caught in a lie. Then again, it’s not like the deceased is going to sit up in their coffin and say, “No, I definitely don’t know that girl with the rusty hair.”

You also don’t want to be only one of three people in attendance. Small funerals are a definite no-no. Then you’re really forced to talk about the deceased and if you don’t actually know them, well, people don’t take too kindly to funeral crashers. It’s always better to attend a large funeral, so that people don’t get too nosy about why you’re there. And, like I said, I’ve gotten very good at blending into the wall in high school, so I’m pretty good at it at funerals too.