Buzz Kill by Beth Fantaskey

she look like a world traveler? Somebody who’d . 
.
 . er, “be with” Mr. Killdare? Send him postcards signed “Love”?
    It was hard to tell, so I kept searching the gathering, identifying Principal Woolsey, who stood next to my father, and Ms. Beamish, and a few other teachers. And at the very edge of the tent was another person from school. Chase Albright, who’d ignored Mike’s “warning” and stood alone, looking very mature in a dark suit that somehow came across as more expensive than my, Laura’s, and Ryan’s cobbled-together outfits, all combined.
    Feeling eyes on me, I found that Detective Lohser was, of course, there, too—and staring in my direction.
    Pretending to ignore him, I resumed surveying the crowd—only to stop short at the sight of long blond hair cascading from under a very chic funereal black hat. Although her face was partly obscured, I would’ve recognized my archnemesis anywhere. Especially since, unlike me, she’d had the presence of mind to bring a reporter’s notebook, which she held discreetly in her left hand.
    Darn you, Vivienne Fitch!

Chapter 27
    I’d mentally prepped to face the memorial service, but standing at the edge of Coach Killdare’s grave, my chest tightened as a minister in a black suit intoned a prayer and memories came flooding back.
    My mother’s casket being lowered . 
.
 .
    I glanced at my father, who also seemed unnerved—but mainly by my presence. He kept giving me curious looks, as if to ask, “Why are
you
here?”
    I averted my gaze, hardly able to bear seeing my dad in a sober suit beside an open grave. The scene was too familiar, almost like Mom had died yesterday, instead of about eight years in the past.
    Both Ryan and Laura seemed to understand what was happening to me, and Ry clasped my arm, whispering, “Are you okay?”
    â€œI’m fine,” I said softly as the minister wrapped up the world’s longest prayer. Then I shrugged free, knowing I had to pull myself together, if only because I couldn’t let Viv see me looking weak. She kept peeking at me from under the brim of that little hat, no doubt sensing I was struggling and hoping I’d fall apart.
    I glanced over at Chase and found that he was watching me, too, but with something that looked like sympathy. For a moment, I was not only surprised to see that expression in his eyes, but unsure how he’d have any clue as to what I was going through.
    Then I realized that even if I didn’t know much about Chase, my story was common knowledge. For a long time, I’d been poor, motherless Millie Ostermeyer—a label that still sort of stuck.
    Don’t be that pathetic kid, Millie. You’re on an investigative mission, not throwing a pity party.
    Squaring my shoulders, I forced myself to face the casket—just as the minister addressed all of us, asking, as if he’d run out of stuff to say, “Would anyone like to come forward and offer a few words about the man whose life we celebrate today?”
    Funerals are pretty quiet to begin with, but that invitation caused a phenomenally profound hush to descend upon that cemetery. The kind of silence that I imagined existed in outer space. Even the birds seemed to shut up, and while I could see that Principal Woolsey was clearing his throat in his nervous way, he was managing to do it soundlessly, like he didn’t want to be singled out to speak on behalf of a man who—let’s face it—he’d probably loathed.
    I sneaked a hopeful look at the woman in the maroon suit, but she was hanging back, too.
    And although my dad certainly wasn’t shy, he didn’t jump into the spotlight, either—though for once I wished he would.
Go up there and say great stuff about Mr. Killdare, because Detective Lohser’s listening and Viv is taking notes!
    I was pretty sure Dad waited because he was a stickler for