Better Left Buried Read Online Free PDF Page A

stuffed two pillows under her comforter as a decoy.
    “I can’ t believe I’m doing this again,” she mumbled, knowing she was due to get caught.
    She felt between the boxspring and mattress for her art portfolio and charcoal tin and tucked them under her arm. If her mother knew about her grim hobby, she’d flip. She sneaked out of her room, closing the door behind her. The hardwood floors radiated cold through her socks as she crept down stairs. She held her breath and unlatched the deadbolt, stepping into a pair of low top black Chuck Taylors. It was colder outside than she had thought. She tripped on the uneven threshold and nearly fell, pulling the door shut harder than she intended. Times like these, she was glad her mother never caved to her pleadings for a dog.
    Harmony was nowhere to be found.
    The neighborhood was dark except for a smattering of lampposts and the distant streetlights outside of the recreational field at the end of her street.
    Smoke billowed from the tailpipe of Adam’s Frankentruck parked out front of the tennis courts.
    Brea ran as fast as she could, terrified Harmony might be reckless enough to honk.
    “You could have at least shut off the engine,” Brea said , opening the passenger’s side door.
    “You don’t honestly think she can hear it all the way down here, do you?”
    Brea’s mother was a notoriously light sleeper.
    “No, but my neighbors might.” Brea shoved the portfolio between her feet and put on her seatbelt when Harmony pulled away from the curb. “Should I ask how you convinced Adam to let you drive his prized truck?”
    “Probably better you don’t know .” She tucked a cigarette between her lips. “Hand me that lighter.”
    Brea pushed in the dashboard lighter and handed it to Harmony when it popped back out. “Will you at least roll down the window? My mother’s got the nose of a bloodhound.”
    Harmony cracked the driver’s side window and exhaled a long breath of smoke. “ Speaking of mothers, I stopped by mine’s place tonight.”
    She had stopped calling the trailer home months ago.
    “Did you ask her what she did to get arrested?”
    Harmony shook her head. “ You told me it was a drunk and disorderly. So be it. No point asking her anything the way I found her. She’s a mess. The power’s off again and someone got rough with her.”
    “ You want me to talk to Uncle Jim?”
    “God no. Last time you asked him for a favor, he couldn’t tell your mother fast enough. You don’t need her on your case again.”
    “ What do you mean ‘again’? She’s still on my case. She never got off it. Even called my father in for reinforcement.”
    “You have everything with you?” Harmony pulled onto the dirt road entrance of Oakwood Cemetery.
    Brea nodded. “Yeah, and I brought extra charcoal if you need it. Can you believe my dad wants me to go to Arizona? I mean, we’re graduating. At what point do I get to do what I want to do?”
    “At least your father cares. All I know about mine is the name on my birth certificate.”
    “Ever try asking your mother about him?”
    “You mean before her morning vodka?” Harmony smiled. “I’ve never been up that early.”
    “Well, don’t be too jealous. My father’s nothing like how I remember him. Whatever happened before he left changed him.”
    “Memories are bullshit anyway.” Harmony yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed a roll of paper and a backpack from behind the driver’s seat, and headed through the cemetery with her flashlight. “Where did we leave off?”
    “Johnson plot, I think. What do you mean?”
    “Tell yourself a lie long enough, Brea, you believe it. I remember this happy man bouncing me on his knee, tossing me up in the air, taking me for ice cream. My life’s so screwed up I invented a father. Bennett says I’ve convinced myself that he existed in my life as a coping mechanism.”
    “Here, this is where we stopped.” Brea knelt in front of a keystone-shaped marker whose