Page 52 of Don't Tell Me How to Die

PARTTWO

MY TURN TO DIE

THIRTY-ONE

the day of the funeral

“Slide the wide end of the tie through the front loop to create the base of the knot,” the reassuring voice on the YouTube video said.

Kevin Dunn did as instructed. Like most teenage boys, he sucked at tying a tie, but like any other challenge Kevin faced in life, he was determined to figure it out on his own.

If you ask for help, he said silently to his image in the mirror,the tie wins.

“Now pull the narrow end of the tie until the knot is tight at your neck,” the voice continued. “Pinch the knot to create a dimple, adjust your shirt collar, and slide the narrow end of the tie through the loop at the back of the wide end.”

For the fifth time that morning Kevin did exactly that.

“If the tip of your tie is resting just at the top of your beltline, you’ve got the perfect length, and you are looking sharp.”

Moment of truth. He stepped back and looked in the mirror.

“Yes!” he said, pumping a fist in the air. “Dunn nails it in five! A personal best.”

He went to the window and scanned the street. There were three news vans and maybe twenty or thirty neighbors standing outside waiting for the family to come out.

There was a bang on his bedroom door. “Yo, Kev!”

“I’m busy,” he called out. Not that that would stop her. Kevin was the good child. His twin sister always did what she wanted.

The door opened, and Katie Dunn stepped inside. Black dress, black scarf, black nails, black lipstick, red sneakers. The girl never missed an opportunity to make a statement.

She stood in the doorway and giggled. A classic Katie tell. She was stoned.

“What do you call a kid whose parents both die?” she asked.

“An orphan,” he said, indulging her.

“What do call him if onlyoneparent dies?”

“I give up.”

“Horphan. Half an orphan. That’s what we are. I made it up.” She unleashed another round of giggles.

“Really, Katie?” Kevin said. “Today of all days? Why would you get high?”

“Weed is medicinal. It helps people cope with their grief.”

“The whole town is going to be looking at us,” Kevin said. “You think the reporters will be stupid enough to think you’recoping? They’re just going to say that Mayor Dunn’s idiot daughter was crunked out of her gourd. Where did you get the weed?”

“Dad’s office. That’s where they keep it. It’s legal, in case you hadn’t heard.”

She lifted Kevin’s jacket from the back of his desk chair and produced a little baggie from the folds of her scarf.

“I rolled one for later,” she said, tucking it into one of his pockets. She tossed him the jacket.

“So now I’m the one who’s holding,” he said, putting it on.

“Right. If we get caught, we’ll both make the front page.”

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