Zen and Xander Undone Read Online Free PDF Page A

if Xander is dressing like a stockyard hag to go to the cemetery, I’ll represent the Vogel daughters with some dignity.
    â€œDid I miss anyone on my list?” Xander asks without really meaning it. I can never think of things she doesn’t already consider.
    â€œThe list is fine. Too bad we’re not asking any of them.” I fight my way into the only black shirt I own, which is a turtleneck. I talk to her through the dark fabric. “They’ll all deny it anyway. That’s how decent people behave, after all, Xander. They respect people’s dying wishes.”
    When I emerge from my turtleneck I see Xander’s already gone. A minute later I hear a car horn and look out my window. She’s waiting in the hatchback for me, in the driver’s seat. When she sees me looking, she blows a huge purple bubble.
    I look in my desk drawer. All my gum is gone.
    Bitch.

Mother’s Day
    I T’S A GOOD DAY to visit Mom. A million birds are weaving their little voices through the breeze. Mom liked birds. She could imitate birdcalls for fifteen different species, and giggled like a little girl when the birds answered her back.
    Lots of puffy clouds shuffle across the sky, which is the kind of bright blue that only comes on spring days before the summer haze settles on the hills. We live in Vermont, in a college town on the shores of Lake Champlain, and our summers are blistering and humid. They’re still my favorite time of year, and not just because school is out.
    We park and climb up the hill to the upper part of the cemetery where Mom is. Even though it’s early, I’m already wishing I hadn’t worn a turtleneck. I fix my eyes on the top line of the hill as we climb, watching Mom’s headstone slowly appear over the summit, until finally we’re standing at the foot of Mom’s grave, next to the empty plot Dad depressingly got for himself.
    Xander is the first to see the letters, and she falls on her knees. They’re taped to Mom’s headstone, each in a plastic baggie. The writing is unmistakable.
    Of course she would write to us on our first Mother’s Day without her.
    Xander rips hers off the headstone and leans against the tree Mom’s buried under. She doesn’t even seem to notice the bee buzzing around her hair as she reads. I take mine and lie down on top of Mom’s grave.
    Â 
Dear Zen,
    Â 
Happy Mother’s Day, sweetheart. How’s my little chickadee?
Well, if the doctors are right, it should be about ten months after I’ve expired. I hope by now you’ve gotten used to my being gone. You’re not the type to wallow, and neither is Xander. So I’m not worried that you’ve gained fifty pounds, or joined a cult. But I do hope that you’re finding ways to have fun.
With that in mind, there is something I would like you to do for me. It’s your junior year, and I want you to go to the prom. I know you don’t like to do anything girly, but I really think you could miss out on something special. Branch out of your world a little. Life isn’t all jumping sidekicks, after all.
And because I enjoy infuriating you from the great beyond (and also because I don’t trust you to go without some pressure), I’ve chosen your dress and your date. Your dress should be arriving this week in the mail, and your date is Adam Little. After all, you two are good friends, and you’ll have fun together.
Adam agreed to this months ago, so there’s no point in being embarrassed about it now. (It’s remarkable what you can get people to do when you’re on your deathbed.)
And don’t try to weasel out of this. I’m watching. Have fun, sweetie.
Love always,
Mom
    Â 
    I can’t believe Mom has done this to me.
    Actually, yes I can. She was always a meddler.
    I hear a cry of outrage and look over to see Xander scrunching her lips together in the way she does when she’s furious. “No! No