Adventures in Funeral Crashing (Complete Novel)

Chapter 9: Inquiring

August 10

I just met this great guy in my English class. His name is Troy Matthews. Hot, right? Liz Matthews, I can see it. Anyway, getting ahead of myself, he's an art major and he's probably as into art as I am into animals. And, he's cute! He asked me out and we're supposed to go have coffee on Friday. I can't wait!!!! Wait, that is a date, right? Even though it's just coffee?

August 14

So, my date with Troy was amazing! We met up at Wired. He bought me a coffee, so it's officially a date since he paid. I even offered, but he said no. We talked all about his art classes and my work at the shelter and Paws. We had so much to talk about. He is the most amazing guy. He even showed me some of his artwork on his phone. He is really talented. I hope he asks me out again. I had the greatest time. We didn't kiss or anything, though. I did give him a hug when we walked outside, but he didn't try to kiss me. I hope he likes me.

September 1

I know I haven't written anything in the last two weeks, but things have been so great with Troy that I haven't even felt like writing. And, we've hung out almost every day. He's been so amazing. Now I do have something to write about, though. I don't know what to do. I have nobody to talk to. I got this email from a girl claiming to be Troy's girlfriend. She was really angry. He says that I'm the only one he's dating. She claims that he's her boyfriend. I don't even know who she is. She called herself Mary Shelly, like the writer of Frankenstein. I obviously don't think that's her real name. I don't know what to do. I want to believe Troy, but I don't know. I was so happy. Is he cheating on me?

The last entry was dated a little over a week before her death. Was Troy cheating on Liz? Who was the other girl? I thought back to what we already knew and my mind stuck on one thing. Vanessa Martin's email to Liz. Had that been about the other girl? Is that what she wanted to talk to Liz about? Was Vanessa Martin the other girl that Troy was dating and cheating on Liz with? Or did she know her? Regardless, it seemed that Troy was not the perfect person Liz had thought he was and to myself I thought, he's also not the person you'd want to be dating if you actually wanted to survive college.

I fell asleep after 4 am. So, I know I had bags under my eyes from lack of sleep when I rode the bus to school on Monday morning. I had spent ten minutes trying to cover them up. I had, in fact, dragged myself out of bed early despite my lack of sleep to try and look super cute for school. Usually I rolled out of bed and just went, with my hair still damp from a morning shower. Today, I pulled out my mom's old blow dryer and her curling iron and tried to do my hair in a style other than its usual boring straightness. I mean, I was knowingly going to spend part of the day hanging out with Ethan. It couldn't hurt for him to actually think I looked cute, right? Hopefully he wouldn't be too egotistical and think I was doing it just for him. I mean, maybe I was, but it's not like I really wanted him to know that. I wanted him to think I looked cute all the time, even if I had spent the last two plus years going to school with wet hair because I hated getting up early to actually try and do something with it.

Sadly, after all that prep time, I'm not really sure that my hair looked any different on the bus this morning. Sure it was dry for once and maybe it was slightly wavy from the curling iron, but not all that different. Maybe I should have straightened it instead. And, I had bags under my eyes despite my attempts with cover-up. Maybe I could get a nap in during some point of the school day. Lectures could be excellent for putting one's mind to sleep.

I wasn't even going to see Ethan until after school, when I was meeting him at his car. Well, I mean, we might pass one another in the halls. We did also have the same lunch hour, but I don't think Ethan even knew that. He usually sat with his friends Dave and Mike and the whole popular crowd.