Free Adventures in Funeral Crashing by Milda Harris Page A

strangers, interrogating them and
asking about their deaths. I had already thought about it and
dismissed it. They wouldn’t talk to Ethan or me about it on their
own and it could take eons for us to somehow ingratiate ourselves
into their lives. Girls kept dying. Wasting time was not an option.
Liz was our best lead for clues. So, we needed to be thorough with
Liz.
    “Did she keep a diary or anything?” I asked
as I opened a drawer full of pens, erasers, pencils, paper clips,
staples and all the usual school supplies.
    I kept a diary sometimes. It was really
sporadic and totally eighth grade, but when I really needed to get
something out, I used it. It was currently hiding underneath my
mattress where I knew my dad would never look. I know I wasn’t the
only girl with one either. If I remembered correctly, Ariel had a
diary too – with Princess Jasmine on it from Aladdin – and
kept it hidden in a shoebox in her closet. Ariel had made me privy
to that secret when we used to be best friends. What I wouldn’t
give to read up on her secrets now. Not that I’d use them against
her or anything. I don’t think.
    Ethan was still standing at the doorway
watching me look around. He seemed almost afraid to enter the
room.
    He shrugged, “When we were kids I think she
had one, but I have no idea if Liz has a diary now. She wouldn’t
have shown it to me, that’s for sure.”
    “But I thought you guys were close?” I asked,
although even if I had a brother I really, really liked I wouldn’t
have shown him my diary either.
    “Yeah, most of the time,” Ethan nodded.
    “Most of the time?” I opened another drawer.
It was full of notebooks and papers.
    “Well, I mean she was my sister. She could be
a real pain sometimes,” Ethan said. “She took forever in the
bathroom and she could be so self righteous about her causes. I
mean, she was probably right and all, but sometimes it drove me
nuts how I did everything wrong.”
    “That makes sense,” I said as I picked
through the papers in the drawer, but it was mostly schoolwork,
junk mail for credit cards, and nothing of interest. I picked up
her mattress. Nothing there. I turned toward her dresser. That
would be the next place I’d probably hide something, as typical as
that is. I riffled through the drawers as Ethan watched me quietly.
And, bingo! There it was, underneath a stack of tank tops. I had
found Liz’s diary.
    Ethan’s room was only lit by the dim glow of
his desk lamp. The towel he must have just used was damp and draped
across the back of his desk chair. His guitar was lying on his bed.
I wished I could hear him play sometime. Maybe I’d ask, one
day.
    I had Liz’s diary in my hands. It was more
than half way full, so it was going to take me a little while to
read. Ethan didn’t want to read it. I understood. I’d be reading
her most private, innermost thoughts once I read it and for Ethan
that would be exceedingly painful right now. I was going to go
through it at home and let him know if I found anything relevant.
I’ll admit, I was dying to read it. Right now, though, we had to
decide what to do about Vanessa Martin.
    Ethan walked over to his computer and sat
down at his desk, motioning me to sit down on his bed, “My mom told
me about Vanessa. She had gotten a call from a neighbor who had
gotten a call from a friend. Vanessa’s family didn’t really want it
to get out about the ODing on heroin. I can understand that. People
look at you differently if they think you missed out on the fact
that your kid is doing drugs. I know how that goes.”
    “So, she died of a heroin overdose too?” I
asked as Ethan logged into his Facebook account.
    “That’s what my mom heard and that they found
Vanessa in her bedroom in her parent’s house, but there’s more. I
think Vanessa emailed me probably within an hour or two of her
death, getting back to me about that email I sent her about Liz,”
Ethan pulled up his Facebook inbox and sure enough there was