Read Online How to Kill Yourself in a Small Town by eden Hudson - Free Book Online

Stellar.
    Bending
over to grab my backpack almost made me pass out.
    When
the dizzy spell ended, I started for town. Crying and whining about being an
idiot with horrible judgment wasn’t going to bring Tempie home.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Tough
     
    There
was only one place where I knew music would be going on at noon on a Sunday, so
when I got out of the shower, I took a handful of ibuprofen and headed down to
Rowdy’s.
    Dodge
was about halfway through the service when I got there. I sat in one of the
back booths and watched the serious Jesus freaks sing and dance along. There
wasn’t any preaching—as far as I know, there hadn’t been any in Halo since Dad
went all Soldier of Heaven—but the music was enough to get the message across.
It even kind of made me feel better. Not the part about how we’d sing glory
hallelujah, because obviously I wouldn’t. But with the drums driving and the
way the guitar lifts you up…and anyway, that kind of music’s written to make
your heart fly.
    The
hangover still had a pretty solid hold on my stomach, but if I didn’t move my
head too fast it didn’t hurt, so I closed my eyes and leaned back in my booth,
listening.
    I
don’t remember the first song I learned how to play, but the first one I
remember playing said something about laying death in its grave. It was Sissy’s
favorite, even after Mom and Dad were dead and she was trying to take care of
us and stop Kathan. I wish I could remember more of that song. Once I asked Rowdy
whether he knew a gospel song with “death in its grave,” and he said I was
supposed to be the preacher’s kid.
    When
the service was over, Dodge came back and slid into the booth across from me.
    “What’s
up, Tough? Still no—?” He pointed to his throat.
    I
shook my head.
    “Sorry,
man.” He took off his camo hat and scratched his forehead. “I can’t believe
Jason would pull that shit with you. It’s not like he ever wanted to be a
country singer. Not when he was in school anyway. Some people, I guess.”
    I
shrugged.
    “So,
what’s the deal, you’re back and everything’s cool?” Dodge said. “You’re
not…like Colt, are you?”
    I
did my best sarcastic nod. Yeah, Dodge, I’m a familiar. That’s why I’m here
and hung over instead of crawling on my hands and knees in front of Mikal.
    Dodge
pulled his hat back on.
    “I’m
not trying to be a dick,” he said. “Sorry about Colt. I know you guys didn’t
get along, but still.”
    Yeah,
still.
    Dodge
blew out a long breath. “So, what now? You taking over the family business?”
    I
snorted and he laughed, too.
    “Good,
because we need you back on guitar.” He must’ve seen some of the pissed-off
that shot through me right then, because he smacked his hand on the table. “Aw,
come on! You heard Willow, she’s terrible. We got to get her off the guitar and
back on the drums. And even if you can’t sing anymore, you always were a hell
of a guitar player. Morning Fang ain’t the same without you. Everybody says
so.”
    Most
of me wanted to. Just the part of me that wished it could’ve killed Jason and
got my voice back because why the hell did he want to live out my dream—and
anyway, it was my fucking band in the first place—didn’t. Right then, though,
that part of me had the majority of the vote.
    “This
shouldn’t be that hard a sell,” Dodge said. “I’ll cut you back in and you can
put together the sets. I never could figure out how you did it so good, anyway.
You always knew the right song to play next. People really felt what you—”
    I
waved him off before he started telling me my dick was made out of gold and all
the girls for miles around worshipped it.
    “You’ll
do it?” he asked.
    I
shrugged, but inside I was happier than I should’ve been. It was like that
little rush you get when you decide to buy some meth or a needle of fae glitter
for a big night. Maybe I really was addicted to music.
    “Hot
damn!” Dodge slapped his hands together