Free The Funeral Singer by Linda Budzinski

with?”
    Prom? Where did this come from? I twisted the dial on my locker. Maybe Hannah saw me taking the picture with Soccer Boy Ryan the other day and was jealous. They’d dated off and on for most of the last two years. Fact was, I had no plans at all for prom and hadn’t thought much about it until this moment. “That’s kind of up in the air,” I said finally. “What about you?”
    Hannah looked at me like I was an idiot. “Brad Moore? As in, Virginia Tech Back-up Quarterback Brad Moore? We’ve been dating for, like, two months.”
    “Oh. That’s nice.” Silly me for not keeping up with the social lives of the Hip, Hot and Happenin’. I grabbed my AP World book out of my locker and shut it. As I straightened, two sophomore guys asked if they could get pictures with me. I smiled and posed while Hannah stepped back and watched us, her eyes two narrow slits. What was her problem?
    “Thanks, dude.” One of the boys held up his fist and we bumped.
    “Sure.” I waved as they took off down the hall.
    “A real celebrity, aren’t you?” Hannah asked. “If it weren’t for your make-up and your clothes … ” She looked me up and down. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough whether you’re the flavor of the month or whether you actually have a shot at beating me.” She gave me a stony smile, turned and walked away.
    I stared after her. Beating her at what?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    The greasy KenTacoHut manager handed his camera to Pete, came around to our side of the counter, and stood next to me. His hand, a thick paw, grabbed at my waist. He gave a squeeze I knew I’d feel for the rest of the day—and not in a good way, like the other day with Ryan.
    Pete, Lana and I had snuck out of school for lunch so I could take a breather from all the attention, but apparently there was no escaping it. Half the customers in line were snapping photos of me and sending them to their wives, kids, co-workers. As we waited at the end of the counter for our food to come up, an older guy in a faded Redskins jersey walked up, shoved a Sharpie at me and asked me to sign his napkin. His used napkin. Nice. I flipped it over and, carefully, without letting my hand touch it, scribbled “Melanie Martin.”
    “That was gross,” I said as the three of us slid into our booth. I stayed at the edge of my bench so Lana and Pete would be forced to sit next to each other. They both gave me a look. I pretended not to notice. “Guess I have to get used to dealing with my public.”
    Pete laughed as he squeezed a packet of hot sauce onto his burrito. “The price of celebrity.”
    “Lots of people would kill to be in your shoes, you know,” Lana said.
    “I know. It’s just that it makes me nervous to know someone could be taking my photo anytime, anywhere. What if I’m in the middle of blowing my nose or something?” I took a small bite of my pepperoni pizza, careful not to get any sauce on my chin. “Speaking of things that make me nervous, Pete, I have something to ask you and I don’t want you to get mad at me.”
    Pete set down his burrito. “Okay.”
    “Do you think Ms. Jensen will be upset if I miss all three rehearsals next week? I’m going to be doing some studio work with The Grime and I need to get to Ty’s house early.”
    “Oooh, studio work,” Lana said. “Exciting.”
    Pete looked considerably less impressed. “All three rehearsals? What happened to ‘I can do both’?”
    I knew he’d react like this. It was one of the reasons I brought it up in front of Lana. So he wouldn’t go completely nuts. “Come on. It’s only for one week. After next week, I can definitely do both.”
    Pete took a gulp of his Mountain Dew. “Sure you can. And yes, Jensen’s definitely going to be pissed, and so will everyone else. We need you to carry us through ‘New Moon,’ you know. And I don’t mean just your solo.”
    “I promise, by the time we go to All State, ‘New Moon’ will sound perfect. And anyway, I’m pretty