chapter twenty

A crowd gathers for the funeral. The church walls seem to strain to accommodate the bodies, but there isn’t enough space for everyone. People cram together, squished thigh to thigh in the pews, shoulder to shoulder in aisles. The back is standing room only. Not surprisingly, I don’t hear anyone complain. I hardly hear any sound at all except the occasional whisper, cough, or sniffle. Everyone wears dark colors, even kids who don’t usually follow rules or social customs. I guess it’s like that when someone young is snatched from the earth. It’s wrong on so many levels that thinking about it makes my already sad heart ache even harder.

Kristina is perched in her wheelchair at the end of the front row where Mrs. Jones asked her to sit with some of Jeremy’s family. Aunts and uncles, cousins, and a grandmother. Kristina and Mrs. Jones don’t know each other very well but, bonded by loss and a shared sickness, they grip hands. From Kristina’s wrist dangles the charm bracelet. I imagine the sound of the dancer clanging against the other charms she loved so much when she was a girl.

Mom and Dad sit on either side of me a couple of rows behind them. We got to the church early to get Kristina in without fuss. Mom took one look at the open casket and her face went white. Dad refused to look at it. I think it drove home how lucky we are, in the whole scheme of things. We didn’t have to say good-bye to Kristina. We just had to adjust to a new way of life.

At the front of the church, Kristina doesn’t search out any of her friends. Her eyes stay focused on the black casket. She’s wearing a black blouse and a now-baggy pair of black pants with one pant leg pinned up.

Clark Trent sits down the row from me with his parents. He’s wearing a suit that looks like he borrowed it from his dad. His dad wears a similar pair of dark glasses. Both of them absently push their glasses up on their nose from time to time. Clark’s eyes are red and when he spots me, he lifts his hand, but doesn’t smile.

Nick stands at the back of the church. His eyes meet mine when I crane my neck around and see him. We stare at each other for a moment, but he drops his gaze first. I want to hate him. For drinking. For not being who I thought he was, but it’s not the time or the place to mourn Nick.

Almost the whole high school shows up, but when the minister takes his place at the front of the church there’s silence while people wait for him to speak; only a few sniffles can be heard. I think we’re waiting for him to explain how something like this could happen to someone as good and young as Jeremy. But I already know bad things happen to people who don’t deserve it.

I hardly knew Jeremy, really. He was my sister’s friend, but I miss him too. I miss what he was to Kristina and how unfair it is that he was taken so early. I can’t believe we’ll never see him again.