The End or Something Like That Read Online Free PDF

row and a man wearing a plaid jacket like the nose-picker guy.
    In a corner sat a large woman in a muumuu with yellow hair. She was knitting something.
    She turned and smiled at me like she knew me. Was she from school? Was she Au’s wife? In any case, she was strange.
    Music was playing from a CD player.
    Skeeter said, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    And I said, “Yeah.”
    And he looked at me and said, “Really?”
    â€¢
    Right after Kim died, Skeeter brought me over a huge burned sugar cookie in the shape of a kangaroo. In the card it said, KEEP ON HOPPIN!
    â€œMy mom made it,” he told me.
    Our families had known each other for years, and Mom and Dad were always talking about Skeeter’s deliquent brother.
    He was in jail for a DUI, which was a horrible tragedy, my mom said once and Dad said, “A tragedy? He was drinking. He got in a car. That’s called stupidity, not tragedy.”
    Mom said, “I know, Doug, but he didn’t know better.”
    And Dad said, “What are you talking about?”
    And then they argued and Mom said, “I feel bad for Sue.”
    â€¢
    Sue was Skeeter’s mom and Sue made me a kangaroo cookie when Kim died.
    I said, “Thanks.”
    Skeeter said, “I had one of them. They don’t taste good.”
    I said, “Okay.”
    Then he said, “Okay.”
    And then he left.
    â€¢
    Now at Ms. Dead Homeyer’s funeral he said, “Are you okay? Really?”
    â€œI’m okay,” I said.
    We sat on the back pew next to the two old men.
    A huge picture of Ms. Homeyer wearing her Smurf smock, holding a cat, was on an easel at the front.
    Then the man from the foyer wheeled her casket to the front, and they changed the music to a song called “We Are the World.”
    We sat there.
    And sat there.
    And sat there.
    Mr. Au went up and whispered to one of the mortuary guys.
    Then we sat and sat and sat.
    At six thirty, Mr. Au walked up to the microphone.
    â€œHello,” he said, and the microphone feedback bounced off the walls.
    The music went off.
    â€œSorry,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
    Then a bell chimed signaling that someone had come in the mortuary. One of the mortuary guys left and Au said, “Today, I’m going to talk about a dear friend named Carla Homeyer.“
He pointed to the picture.
    Mr. Au was wearing the same thing he wore to school every day: a golf shirt and Bermuda shorts. He cleared his throat, “Carla,” he said. “Carla Carla Carla. What to say about Carla.”
    He cleared his throat again.
    â€œCarla was a friend to many,” he said. “She loved her students and she truly believed that there was life beyond this universe.”
    I sank in my seat.
    â€œThis is bad,” Skeeter whispered.
    â€œReally bad,” I said.
    Then they walked in.
    The worst people who could possibly walk in, walked in.

• 19 •
    One day, the summer before all of this, the summer before Kim died, Mom was off at an insurance workshop, and Dad was in his study, and Joe was eating Styrofoam or playing the Wii, and Kim and I were in my room dying from sweat. Kim was on the floor staring at her feet and I was on the bed trying to see if I could put my entire fist in my mouth.
    â€œYou can’t do it,” she said.
    â€œI think I can.”
    â€œNo,” she said. “It’s physically impossible. Besides you’re a weirdo.”
    â€œIt’s not physically impossible,” I said. I tried again, and she was probably right.
    Then she said, “Why do you have so many stuffed animals?”
    I looked over at the corner of the room. My mom had helped me rig up a net to hold all the toys I’d gotten over the years. My grandma was crazy town, and me and Joe each got three stuffed animals for every holiday.
    â€œI love them,” I said.
    She looked at me. “You do?”
    â€œNo.”
    She sat up. “I