By Jenny Valentine
Me: Lucas Swain—I'm approximately 16 years previous and reside in London. i used to be quite basic till the evening i discovered Violet. Then every thing replaced.
The lacking: Dad. He disappeared 5 years in the past. not anyone is aware what occurred to him, and no-one cares other than me. it really is adequate to force you loopy.
The useless: that is Violet . . . within the urn. conversing of crazy—I comprehend she's attempting to inform me whatever, and that i imagine it is approximately my father. . . .
A useless girl is probably not a lot to move on, yet my dad's available in the market someplace, and it is as much as me to determine the place.
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Additional info for Me, the Missing, and the Dead
If I don’t know the answer to any of his questions, I’ll just tell him I don’t remember. Nobody gives an old lady a hard time,” Pansy said. Then she dialed the number and started mewing into the receiver in her oldlady voice. This always gets me because you’d think an old lady wouldn’t be able to do a good old-lady impression, but Pansy can. “Hello? Mr. ” she said, and I waved NO at her but it didn’t register. ” Then she said, “Maybe I’ve got the wrong cab office. She’s been mislaid. Her name is Violet, and she’s in an urn.
You got a candle when you came in and you lit it and put it in a bucket, so there were maybe a hundred candles surrounding her. The light was sort of eerie and full of life. When the priest talked about commending Angelique to heaven, the flowers in some of the buckets all seemed to catch fire at the same time and you could hear this gasp go round the church like it was a sign or something, and nobody wanted to put the fires out. When Angelique’s dad went to pick up the coffin on the way out, he leaned against it for support, like he was hugging her, and that really got to me.
Me: Are they going to? TS: No idea. You’re not touching it. Get that idea out of your head right now. Me: What’s her name? TS: (staring at me hard for the count of five and sighing) If I tell you, will you leave? Me: Yes. TS: (picking up the urn and showing me the metal plaque on the side that reads PARK 1927–2002) Now get out. VIOLET ME, THE MISSING, AND THE DEAD It was like a light going on in my brain. I read once in a comic about readiness potential. It’s the way your brain is always one step ahead of you, even though you think you’re the one in charge.