Planning a funeral for one is bad.

Planning a funeral for your family can be very daunting.

But planning a funeral for the people who despised your every existence with your ex-crush who's criticizing your every move? Henny, that's asking for a lot of trouble.

And the next several days while juggling midterms, therapy sessions, and whatnot was spent with my ex-father's attorneys and Corey and his entourage planning every detail down to the last letter. And they wanted to make sure that all of my father's final arrangements were done to his wishes. But they had way too much in mind: several horse-drawn carriages to transport the caskets from the funeral home (with the carriages themselves being pulled by all-white Clydesdales), two all-boys choirs singing his favorite songs by Tim McGraw (I don't know why), an endless bouquet of flower arrangements to make it look like they were burying high royalty, me doing the eulogy that I have to denounce myself and make myself look like the bad guy, and an after-funeral dinner where all of Cartier Valley would have to wait on my family's closest friends, the media that would cover the arrangements, and the ex-sperm donor's list of clientele.

Corey said that I owed it to them to cater to their needs even when my "family" is no longer alive.

As if!

Thankfully, being a power of attorney also meant having total control of the arrangements and having the final say on what goes on. And boy, Corey was not a happy camper when he and his cronies learned of what I had in mind- a private affair at St. Mark Cathedral, a closed-casket service (no last glances at all), a guest list that does not include the media trying to create a circus and paint me to be a bad guy), and the completely-private burial at Westmoreland Baptist Church where my grandparents were laid to rest. And of course, I would do the eulogy that I would be asked to read.

And speaking of which, I was currently at my private luncheon with my own entourage as Ms. Alaina Grayson, the PR coordinator for my family, was handing me the scripted version of the speech that I was asked to read. "Now, Mr. Harding, you're going to have all of the eyes of your father's clients and friends making sure that you don't make the family name be soiled," she said in an arrogant tone that made me want to strangle her. "And since he knew that you were destined for nothing but failure-"

"Bite me," Dr. Valenzia muttered, rolling her eyes.

Ms. Grayson sneered at the therapist before turning her attention back to me. "Since your father knew that you were destined for nothing but failure, he wanted to make sure that you were to talk down about yourself and to make sure that you got the point- you drove them to their graves knowing that you never gave them the fair game in making you into a real man," she continued. "And given your current situation, your father wrote this eulogy in mind that you stood true to what he and his family believed in."

She handed me the three-page document that she kept in her briefcase. "Give it a read and I'll be watching your move," she wheedled.

"Ms. Grayson, you can't possibly mean all of that when you said that everyone expects Wendell to diss himself," Dr. St. Pierre bit out, his eyes narrowed in silts. "Wendell doesn't need to-"

"He will if he values his life," Corey replied, his newest flavor-of-the-month (looks like he moved on real quick, folks). "And if he doesn't play ball, then Wendell's death could be the next topic of Seattle."

"You wouldn't," Ms. Whitfield seethed, standing up in fury.

"I would," Corey smirked. "It would be an honor to finally dispose the freak out of this world and-"

POW!

Corey was suddenly greeted with a punch to the jaw by none other than my boyfriend, who was towering over him. "Don't you dare threaten my boyfriend, you disgusting two-faced lunk," Logan spat out angrily.

"Gentlemen," Ms. Grayson said, walking right in the middle. "Calm down, please. This is about Wendell and the expectations placed in front of him."

To me, "Start reading, Wendell. We are wasting precious daylight."

Sighing heavily, I looked down at the eulogy and began to read.

Dearly beloved, we have come to say goodbye to the people who have brought light and power to the high upper-crusts of Seattle- the blessed Harding family. We have come to lay to rest the honorable Damian Harding, his wife Antonia, and their daughters Alicia and Bianca with Bianca's boyfriend Marco now a part of the family and joining the fray.

For me, I wished I could've done more to make sure that I tried to be a real man. Granted, it was all in vain since I tend to be my own saboteur to their plans with not being turned straight, enjoying instant gratification, and being a part of their version of the American Dream. No, I was too busy hating on all of you fine people to see that this was meant to be for my own good and that I was always dragging myself deeper and deeper into my own death. But it never really mattered since I'm a bastard child who should have never existed in the first place. And now, here I am laying the people who tried to make me into their image to rest as I realized that you all were right and that I was always in the wrong. I thank y'all for making me feel like I belong in the garbage. And I do. If anything, I should be the one being dead while my family was the ones who were supposed to live. But since that plan was broken by a twist of fate, I plan to make things right... by ending my own life.

Cue the record scratch again, folks. "Wait, what?!" I exclaimed. "This can't be real right now."

Ms. Grayson nodded, smiling brightly as if she was getting ready to be crowned Miss USA. "Of course not," she replied. "Since you're basically living among this freakshow of a school, you'll be fine here. But we'll probably need you to-"

I cut her off. "Okay, let me stop you right there," I said firmly. "I will do this eulogy in your way, but I want you to know that I am done being suicidal. I am done dancing to the tune of you, my ex-crush, and all of your little friends and my late family's crew. If you think that I am going to let you try to dictate how I should send them off, then you got another thang coming. And with that said, I think that it's time for you to leave."

"You can't mean that," Corey said snidely. "I'm also planning the arrangements and-"

"Everything is already set for the funeral, which is to be held after I finish my midterms," I interrupted him. "In three days, I will say goodbye to my family and leave the family completely. Knowing my father, I know that he left everything in your name and that you're going to be rolling in the deep. So, I'm not going to fight that part. All that I ask of you right now is that you leave me alone afterwards and that you live your life in the way you see fit. If you can do that for me, I'd be eternally grateful."

Corey stood up, giving me a scathing glare. "Don't get too high and mighty, you fucking shit," he spat angrily. "I can still end you in a heartbeat. And I will be watching your every move at the funeral, right down to how you're dressed. If you try anything funny or do a eulogy that isn't how I want to envision for my late fiancee or her father, then you might as well abandon any hope of a future at all because I will bury you in the fucking woods and make you suffer in hell."

I took a deep breath, ignoring the rage and channeling it into a ball. "And this is why I'm grateful that I dodged one hell of a bullet with you," I replied, looking straight into his eyes.  "I'm grateful that you blew it when you outed me at that dinner on my birthday- the one event that I hoped to have a semblance of quiet and wanting to remain in the closet until after I left home. You showed your true colors and it just affirmed the fact that you would never be the real man that I needed. It was destined that you and I would be at odds against each other like cats and dogs. But I chose well with Logan, a REAL man who loves me for me without reservations while wanting me to be better and finally break away from my old habits. I had seen my share of real men... and believe me when I say that I am not looking at one now."

I saw Corey's group of friends dropping their mouths in shock while my crew tried to stifle their laughs.

"Good day, Corey Bellevue," I said.

He blinked. "B-but Hard-"

"Sir, he said to you and everyone that is not a part of this school 'good day,' so please kindly take your leave," said a beefy orderly. "And if you dare try anything, I can easily have you and your friends here be given a lobotomy while I watch Supernanny."

With that, the man who I thought was going to be my savior, Ms. Grayson (the future reject of Playboy Magazine), and their little cliques quietly took their leave. "This isn't over," Corey seethed. "I meant what I said. If you try anything funny, I will end you for good."

"Corey, if you dare test these people... then prepare to say your prayers," I said quietly. "And I know one student who can make you disappear into nothing with just a few bottles of cyanide and other chemicals. Try me if you want to."

Corey sent me one last glare before walking out of the conference room and slamming the door so hard it made everyone jump.

"That was eventful," Dr. Sellers replied, sitting back in her seat. "That man is one piece of work."

"Tell me about it," I sighed as I sat down, letting Logan give me a back massage. "Can things get any crazier?"

***********

It turns out that they can.

I was sitting in isolation (I wanted a few moments of silence, so I decided to take a few hours in isolation to just let myself breathe) when I saw him- Braeden Satillo. "What do you want, Satillo?" I asked him, setting aside my schoolbooks.

"Well, I just wanted to give my condolences first off," the redhead said calmly, looking at his fingernails. "I know it's not easy planning everything to lay the people who despised you for all of your life to rest. If I had been you, I'd simply just throw them into an unmarked grave or just cremate them and throw their ashes in a garbage can."

"Thanks. Now, what do you really want?"

Braeden sighed, giving me a pointed stare. "Straight to the point, aren't we?" he asked me. "All right, I'll bite. I heard about that eulogy that you were told to read at the funeral. Frankly, it's a bunch of bullshit to dog yourself when you can be the one to read them for filth."

My eyes widened. "And why would I do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You have total sway on all the funeral arrangements and you hold the power of attorney right now. If anything, you should be telling off the people who sided with your father while roasting your family like you're fucking Bianca Del Rio," he said, looking at me as if I had lost my mind. "And I think you should do it, as well as give Logan the boot so I can have him."

"So you want me to be a total brat while dumping the best thing that had happened to me for your own benefit," I deduced. "Are you out of your mind?"

"No," he said, smiling faintly. "I knew that you're facing a lot of pressure right now and that most people back home want you gone out of their lives. All you need to do is read them for filth and break loose from MY one and only love."

"But you must not realize that Corey wants me to be on my behavior and he meant what he said about wanting to kill me," I shot back. "If I do what you want, he'll end me on the spot."

"But if you don't, then I can end you without getting my hands dirty," Braeden replied. "I can have someone shoot you and make it look like you offed yourself. In either way, I'd still get Logan for myself and you'd still lose. Two days to decide, Harding. You either play by my rules and risk death... or play by Bellevue's and risk death. Your choice."

He swiftly left in the way that he came, leaving me to my thoughts. "Blast it all to hecky-pecky and back," I sniped. "Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place."

"You got that right."

I whirled around to see Logan standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and face frowning. "Thank God that you're here," I breathed. "I guess that you heard about-"

"I heard everything," he told me. "And I have a plan to make sure that you not only do your duties at the funeral, but we can get Braeden and Corey off your back once and for all."

"How?" I wanted to know.

Logan smiled brightly, pulling out a small box to reveal an elegant engagement ring. "This," was all he said. "I'm going to propose to you right now. All you need to do is do YOUR version of the eulogy and answer me afterwards. By then, all of Seattle will know who we are as a couple."

"Do either of the therapists and your uncle know about-"

He nodded. "They all know and Uncle Lucas gave me his blessing," he replied. "And as for your eulogy, just be yourself and do what you know is right? Do you trust me?"

I nodded.

"Do you love me?"

I nodded.

"Will you marry me?"

I nodded.

"Then make it official in two days. And remember to be yourself and let your words match your new life," Logan replied. "By then, all will see that you are not the same person that you were when you arrived. I see a fighter in you. All you need to do is own it and work your new you to the ground. I love you, Wendell Harding. I will never stop loving you."

Ooh, wee! This story is pumpin' like fried bologna! And you already know that there will be drama in the next chapter as Wendell gives his eulogy and makes everyone's jaws drop to the floor! And I give you fair warning: THERE. WILL. BE. A. CLIFFHANGER! So I hope you're prepared because this next chapter is too good to miss!

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