Unwritten Pages

We arrive at the cemetery. It actually doesn't look much like what you would think a cemetery would look like. It's not dark and creepy. It's actually quite beautiful, with it's nice green fields and bright vibrant flowers.

I decide that—when I die, I want to be buried here. Did Winter chose this cemetery? She's smart, if she did. It seems like a nice resting place.

I see many people already. We're a bit early. And I kind of doubt this is everyone. So I prepare myself for more people later on.

I scan the crowd of people so far for a girl with dyed red hair. Liane Chau—to say. Fortunately, I don't think I see her. Liane's hair is more pure red than natural red. The only other pure red-headed girl I know is Arianna. And some other girls from school—but they're the ones who text too much and put on too much makeup.

And I doubt they would come early.

I see Arianna sitting on the grass. We head over to the group. My parents start talking to Winter's parents and I leave them to go see Arianna. She's reading something. It painfully reminds me of how Desiree would read books in the middle of a lecture.

“Ari!” I call. Arianna looks up instantly with a scowl set firmly in place. I frown as I walk over to her and sit down beside her. I don't think I'm suppose to sit on cemetery grass because... I don't know. It doesn't feel very respectful. But I do it anyways.

“Hey Andrew,” she says and then she ducks her head back down and continues reading whatever the hell is on her lap.

“You should hold it up when you read it,” I say. “I don't think it'll do your neck much justice if you read it like that,” I continue, indicating to the paper on her laps. She looks up and glares at me.

“Mind your own business, Campbell,” she says with annoyance.

I hold both my hands up in a 'not my fault' gesture. “Just saying,” I say.

I see Arianna roll her eyes.

She's not in a good mood today. But I'm not in a good mood either. And I doubt Desiree would skip in joyfully. This day kind of feels like it's cursed.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

Arianna doesn't answer. I don't push her to answer. I just sit there and stare at the sky. The sky is nice shade of blue without a cloud. It looks beautiful, really. It makes the garden—ah, cemetery look peaceful.

Winter's final resting place. Cloudless blue skies, green grass and colour flowers. I remember that she'd always joke that her final resting place would be in a creepy cemetery with skeletons and monsters.

Arianna speaks suddenly. It startles me.

“This Liane Bitch girl is a bitch.”

“You just said that she was a bitch when you called her Liane Bitch,” I say and rip off a piece of grass and start to tie it in knots.

“Yeah, so?”

“Never mind,” I say and I throw the piece of grass away from me.

“I hate her. Look at this stupid article she wrote. Absolutely messed-up. That girl is messed. And everyone's saying that she's so nice and all that. Like, how blind are they?” Arianna then starts swearing and I tune out on what's she's saying by thinking about Desiree.

I know that Desiree is going to show up. Why wouldn't she? She wouldn't skip a funeral because of a boy that broke her heart. She's not that weak. And she's not that stupid and selfish.

I think about what Winter use to say to us when we complained about something.

“Suck it up. Life's not fair.”

Life isn't not fair. It's cruel. 'Not fair' is an underestimation.

I think about what my father had said about Desiree earlier: that Liane may be a better choice than Desiree. And that just makes me angry. Because Desiree is a hundred times—no scratch that—a thousand times better than Liane Bitch.

“Hey, Andrew,” Arianna says as she nudges me. She's done swearing now and is back at looking at the article. “Did you read it?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Dammit, I hate that excuse of a woman.”

“How did you know that I called her an excuse of a woman too?”

Arianna shrugs. “Just because I'm cool like that,” she jokes.

“Sure you are,” I say. She scowls at me and punches me softly on the arm. I want to pretend it hurts—like that game I played on Desiree, but I know that Arianna would probably just laugh at me and say: “Serves you right for being a jerk.”

“How are you and Desiree?” She asks slowly. She looks at me expectantly.

“We're...” I don't know if I want to tell the truth or not. I don't want anyone to know yet. Because then—it'll actually feel like Desiree and I aren't together anymore. “We're...” I try it again.

“Spit it out,” Arianna says, her voice plain of emotion. I know it's annoying to her when I drag my sentences on like that. She has a little brother who does that too often.

“We're not together anymore,” I say, my voice sounding strange in my own ears. Arianna nods at me, like she understands.

Which suddenly makes me furious.

But before I can say anything rude, Arianna says, “Liane?”

I nod slowly. It's not Arianna I should be mad at—it's Liane.

And also Drew Sorauren. Whoever the hell he is.

And that reminds me...

“Ari, do you know who Drew Sorauren is?” I watch her expression carefully because I want to see if she's going to get randomly angry like Desiree did at the mention of his name.

Arianna looks thoughtful for a moment. “Drew Sorauren. Drew Sorauren... Wait! Sorauren is a street!”

I start to lose hope that she even knows him.

“It;s okay if you don't know him. I was just wondering, you know. He seems to be kind of popular,” I say.

Arianna looks as if a light bulb has gone on in her head. “Popular! Yeah! I know him,” she says.

She has my attention now. “Who is he?”

“Some guy,” she says dismissively. But then she hurriedly continues because she sees the expression on my face and knows that isn't the answer I'm looking for.

“Drew Sorauren's in our school,” she begins. “He was probably in some of your classes. Or not. But anyways, he's pretty popular. You know. He's got the abs, looks and girls.”

“Abs, looks and girls? How come I don't know him if he's popular? Shouldn't I have heard about him?”

Arianna shrugs. “Short-term memory?” I scowl and she shrugs again.

“And I haven't heard about the 'so super cool' Drew Sorauren?” I can hear a hint of anger in my voice. Though I don't know why it's there. It feels as if I'm arguing with Desiree again. I have to tell myself to calm down.

“Hey, I didn't say he was 'so super cool'! You're just putting words in my mouth! Well, I guess some people call him cool. I think he's kind of an ass hole. But he's not your typical dumb jock,” she says.

“Typical dumb jock,” I repeat. “I think that's a great way to describe him.”

“You don't even know him,” Arianna says.

“So?”

“Don't be so judgemental! What did the poor guy do to you anyways?”

I don't want to tell her my stupid argument with Desiree so I don't answer. It'll sound stupid anyways. I know I'll have to tell her eventually, but for now, I don't want to tell her.

“Anyways, Winter and Drew had some kind of chemistry thing. And I don't mean the subject. Winter hates Chemistry. I mean chemistry by...emotions. They had some sort of romance.

“I guess they hit it off or whatever. Peter got jealous. And then a few months later, Winter arrived here in this lovely coffin.” I hear the sarcasm in her voice as she says 'lovely'.

I have to ask this. “Does he have anything going on with Desiree?”

I've known Desiree for four years. But for the first two years, I only lusted after her—if only a bit. I didn't care about emotions. And I think there was another guy in her life. But I didn't pay much attention.

Arianna hesitates, and looks at me. “Do you really want to know?”

I nod. “Of course. This is Desiree we're talking about.”

Arianna looks reluctant. But she says it anyways. “They had a thing going on before you came on the scene. Well actually—you were kind of on the scene already but she hated you. So you were barely a competition.”

“Barely a competition,” I mutter.

“And you and Winter had a little thing too, right? So I guess it's even,” Arianna says.

But Winter and I weren't really into each other, actually. I wonder if it's the same with Desiree and Drew. I mean, imagine that Arianna was in Winter's place right now. And Desiree blaming Winter. I would be angry because it would be the stupid thing to say—blaming Arianna's supposed suicide on Winter.

But that's because I knew Winter. I don't know this Drew guy. And by the sounds of it—he sounds pretty opposite from Winter.

“Differences attract.”

What Desiree had told me two days ago repeats in my head. I wonder if she was thinking about Winter and Drew when she said that.

Or maybe herself and Drew Sorauren.

I push that thought out of my head. I do not want to think of them together.

“So... Yeah,” Arianna finishes.

“That's all,” I say, “there's got to be more if she got so mad when I mentioned his name...” I trail off as I realize that I'm not suppose to mention this to Arianna. I hope it slides by, but she catches it.

“She got mad because you mentioned Drew Sorauren?” Arianna looks confused. “Wait—is that why you broke up?”

I hadn't meant to tell her yet, but there's no escaping the truth, so I sigh and say, “yeah.”

She frowns. “What was it mainly about?”

I don't really want to talk about it so I just shrug and I hope that it explains enough.

Arianna doesn't get it, but she doesn't prob any deeper.

“Well... Ah... Drew Sorauren... He's... He's interesting, I guess,” Arianna says, stumbling for the right words. She gives me an apologetic look.

“Anything else?” I feel like a jealous and over protective boyfriend—which is not a good feeling. It makes me feel like a stalker... And... It makes me feel like I'm an abusive boyfriend.

And I hate abusive relationships.

“Drew's a jock. The only times I've seen him—he said something rude to me. Either about my 'lack of intelligent' or me being a 'dumb blonde'.” Arianna gives a little snort and shakes her head like she can't believe it. “I'm not even blonde!”

“Okay...” I say.

“Um... Desiree and Drew were very passionate. Or at least—Desiree was. I'm not sure about Drew, but he seemed like the kind of guy to cheat. But I'm not sure if he did or not. They seemed pretty passionate.”

Hearing that makes me jealous. I try to push it away. This was before I came on the scene. I had a girlfriend before Desiree, of course. But...she was pretty messed-up and into drugs like I was. I have to remind myself that Desiree hated me at that time.

Still, hearing about your girlfriend being all cozy with another man before you came? That's not something any guy would want to hear.

“Oh yeah! And then they had this fight and broke up,” she says. “The end.”

They had a fight and broke up. That reminds of our fight. I hope this isn't permanent. Or else I'd be cursing the day I'd heard Drew Sorauren's name.

“So... Are you two going to get together soon?” Arianna looks curious.

I shrug and then I attempt for a smile. “Hopefully.”

Before we can say anything else, a shadow falls over us. We look up to see a short brunette woman with too much makeup smiling down on us.

I wonder if she's angry at us for sitting down or something. But then again—she's smiling. So most likely, she probably isn't angry.

“Oh aren't you two cute?” She gushes. I frown and look at Arianna. She's frowning too.

“Um, may we help you?” Arianna asks.

“Oh no! I was just admiring you two!”

My frown goes deeper. Admiring? What did she think we were? Toys on a shelf? I wonder if she's hallucinating. Or as Desiree would have said: high.

I don't know the woman. I don't even know if Winter knows her. Does she even how connection to Winter? If she doesn't, why is she here?

“Just wondering,” I say, hoping that I won't sound rude, “exactly who are you?”

The woman laughs like it's a silly little joke. “I'm Drew Sorauren's mother! You know Drew, right? My dear son?”

Huh. What a coincidence. Arianna and I were just talking about him when his mother appears. I force a smile to replace my frown.

“Anyway,” she says. “Aren't you two the cutest couple ever?”

My false smile is wiped off my face. Arianna and I exchange looks. Couple? We look like a couple? Momentarily, I panic. What will Con say when he sees us like this? What will Desiree say?

I mentally scold myself: Desiree saw you with Liane. You think this will set her off?

At the thought of Liane, I feel sick to my stomach.

“Oh no,” Arianna quickly says, “we're not a couple.”

“Oh please!” She laughs at us. “I know true love when I see it! You don't need to lie to me, I won't tell your parents, promise,” she says happily.

“No, really,” I begin, but I'm cut off.

“I know true love young man! Drew with her beloved girl...” she trails off and looks dreamily at the sky.

“You mean Winter? I mean—Winterlyn?”

Drew's mother looks surprised for a moment. Then she shakes her head vigorously and it reminds me of a dog shaking water from its fur. “No! Of course not!”

She says it like it's a bad thing. And maybe it is—considering that this is Winter's funeral and all that. Being with Winter meant you would have to suffer from this.

“Desiree Lilian!” She says. I freeze. What? Desiree? I know they were together but... “The girl with brown hair!”

“Um,” I begin. “Arianna and I are honestly just friends. I have a girlfriend,” I say, even though Desiree isn't really my girlfriend anymore. I wonder if I should tell Drew's mother that my girlfriend is Desiree.

“Oh!” She looks surprised again. “Oh!” She says that again. “I didn't know that!”

“Yeah, and Arianna's seeing someone,” I add quickly. I see a hint of a smile on Arianna's lips. Con. She's thinking about Con. Or at least, I think so.

“I'm sorry! I didn't know that! It's true friendship then,” Drew's mother says, still smiling.

“Yes,” I say.

“You two are also Winter's friend, right?” She asks with curiosity.

I nod.

“I'm so sorry that she had to go,” she says. “They use to be together.”

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who 'they' meant.

I want to know more about Drew. Arianna hasn't given me enough. And the thing that Drew's mother said about Drew and Desiree puts me off. “How's Drew and Desiree?” I watch her expression.

It's joyful—she starts to talk about their love. And hearing about it makes me jealous.

“Oh! They're meant to be! It's like a heaven sent pair! They're angels! They're perfect, they're like soul mates,” she gushes. Arianna and I exchange looks. Soul mates? Angel? A heaven sent pair?

I interrupt because I can barely sit here and listen to her talk about it. “Excuse me, madam.”

She looks at me. “Yes?”

“You know that I have a girlfriend,” I say. Before she can interrupt, I continue. “And that girlfriend goes by the name of Desiree Lilian. And I'm sure it's the same one that Drew's seeing.”

That stumps her for a while. There's silence around us and I wonder if she's going to go off on me about how disrespectful I am to be stealing another man's girl.

But she doesn't. Yet. Which is surprising.

She closes her eyes and then open them to see me. “Andrew Campbell, right?”

I nod.

Arianna, being the person she is, perks up and says, “I'm Arianna Golding! Call me Ari!”

But Drew's mother doesn't pay any attention to Arianna. She narrows her eyes at me and says: “Drew Sorauren is depressed, lately.”

I wonder if it's all about me. I wonder if he hates me like I (kind of) hate him. Even though we haven't even exchanged a sentence.

“Yes?”

“I'm wondering if it's because there's someone stealing his girl.”

Never mind. I guess she is going to talk to me about how disrespectful that is. I prepare myself—for anything, really. Drew's mother yelling at me—or just plain talking to me.

“I didn't steal his girl,” I say. Then I add in, “because she's mine.”

I feel kind of stupid adding that last part—because she doesn't belong to anyone. She belongs to herself. Period. I feel like I'm being way to possessive. Which I probably am.

“Drew was in love with her,” Drew's mother says plainly.

“Was,” I say. After Winter's death—I had began to notice a lot of 'was' being used.

“Drew's in love with her,” she corrects.

“I am too,” I say angrily. I hope my voice isn't loud. Because then people would watch what the commotion is about. I hope Drew's mother doesn't slap me or anything. I know I shouldn't be causing selfish drama during Winter's funeral. But I'm a teenage boy—and I can't help it. Even though I'm reaching adulthood, I'm still young and I'm still reckless.

Surprisingly, Drew's mother laughs. I'm dumbfounded—really. By the look on Arianna's face, she is too. Then Drew's mother begins to speak.

“The truth is: I'm not sure if Drew really is in love with Desiree. Maybe I'm just saying that because I want it to happen. But I know they broke up... But,” she says, eyeing me. “Desiree came to see Drew today.”

That's it. It's because of the phone call. It's because she saw me with stupid Liane. “When?” I ask.

“Just about an hour from now. Or less,” she says. An hour ago. Wasn't that around the same time she saw me with Liane?

“Oh,” I say. And I realize that my voice is small. I sound kind of weak.

“They seemed so in love. And Desiree was crying,” she says, looking at me.

“It's my fault,” I burst out suddenly. “I was being stupid.”

Drew's mother sighs. “There aren't many girls like Desiree Lilian out there. You have to hold on to her before she slips from your grasp.”

Drew's mother turns and walks away from us without another word.

“Well...” Arianna says. “That was... That was really weird, you know?”

“I hope Desiree's... I hope she's okay,” I say. Though I know that Desiree is probably far from okay. But I hope that I didn't hurt her that much.

Before Arianna can answer, I hear someone shout Arianna's name.

“Hey! Ari!” A certain blonde is heading towards us. Con.

Arianna smiles brightly as she sees Con. “Hey!” She waves back. I feel some sort of jealousy as I watch the pair. Then I try to push the jealousy out—I've been jealous enough for one day.

Con sits beside Arianna and they start to talk. I don't focus on what they're saying. I stare at the sky and just think... Just think about Winter.

She's gone.

But I still don't feel anything.

I stop looking at the sky. As my eyes lower, I catch sight of a certain brunette.

Desiree.

“Be right back,” I say to Arianna and Con. They nod but they seem to barely register it.

Desiree is standing by the coffin. She shoulders are hunched like she's crying. And I know I should comfort her... Or do something at least.

I stand up and start to walk towards them. Fear clutches me because I don't think I can look at Winter's dead body without some sort of emotion. Some sort of emotion that I don't want to be exposed in front of so many people.

It's not until I'm right behind Desiree do I realize that a guy is holder her.

It's too late to turn back now. And I'm no coward.

“Desiree,” I say. She turns around instantly and her eyes narrow in on me. She's crying because her eyes are bloodshot.

“What do you want, Campbell?” Her tone is angry and...vicious.

“Who's that?” I ask, acknowledging the guy beside her. He has brown hair like Desiree and brown eyes too. He's around my height. Maybe taller. And by the looks of it, I'm sure he has abs.

For a brief moment, I wonder if he's Desiree's brother. But then I remember that Desiree doesn't have a brother.

“Why do you care?”

“You're my girlfriend,” I say plainly. She glares at me, and I know it's over.

“I'm not Liane Chau. I think you're mistaking me for someone,” she says.

“Look, Desiree,” I say miserably, “it was an accident. I'll admit that I'm stupid. It was reckless. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that—”

She cuts me off. “Screw you!”

I reach towards her—I don't know, to hold her or something. But then the guy wraps Desiree in his arms and she cries in his chest.

And that makes me furious.

I try to hold in my anger. Though I know it shows in my face, if only slightly. “And just who the hell are you?”

“Drew Sorauren,” he says. There's some sort of arrogance in his voice like he thinks I'll bow down to him the moment I hear his name. Or at least gasp.

A week ago—no, two days ago, I wouldn't have known who the hell he is. But now I knew. And I'm far from bowing down at his feet.

“Aren't you seeing Winter?” I ask, my voice deadly calm.

Drew looks amused. “No,” he says. He motions to her coffin. “She's dead.”

Well... That shows a lot about his personality. He moves on—quick. He doesn't care if his previous girlfriend died or not.

What a... I don't even know what to think. I'm lost for words, really.

Drew pulls Desiree tighter to him and gives me a smug look, which reminds me of Liane. I know what he's doing: he's marking his 'territory'.

Desiree's mine.

Once again, I feel like a possessive boyfriend—make that ex-boyfriend.

“So are you seeing Desiree now?”

Drew's mouth quirks up as he thinks about it. “You can say that.”

Which is not a direct answer. It's not the answer I'm looking for. I want a yes or a no. 'You can say that' is not a direct answer.

I glare at him. I wish I can stare him down, but I barely have an inch on him. We're even. I feel like this is going to be a fight or something.

“She's not your girlfriend anymore,” Drew says simply which infuriates me. “You cheated on her.”

We were already over by then! But I don't say that because that would mean we were already over and I move on just as fast as Drew Sorauren.

I want to punch him. But Desiree is in his arms. And I don't want to cause a commotion—right beside Winter's dead body. Plus, I just talked to Drew's mother earlier.

“It was an accident,” I say.

“Accident or not, you still cheated on her. I don't think you have much say in this conversation,” Drew says.

I give up trying to talk to Drew. I don't want to waste my time. “Desiree,” I say, “Liane pushed herself onto me and...I was angry. You have to understand,” I tell her.

Desiree's muffled voice comes from Drew's shirt. “What if I don't want to understand?”

Before I can say anything, I hear my mother say: “Andrew!”

I want to stay here and argue. I want to tell Desiree that everything I did was an accident. I want to tell her that our break up caused me to do that. But I don't want Drew to hear this. And my mother calls for me.

I reluctantly start to draw away and Drew smirks.

“Quite the mother's boy, aren't you?”

I try to think of a witty remark for that, but my father calls me. I glare at Drew.

“You're full of lies and false truths,” I say to Drew. I see Desiree freeze. Drew looks confused but I turn and walk away before he can say anything else.

“Well you're full of bullshit!” I hear him yell after me.

My parents are waiting for me beside Arianna and Con. Arianna and Con seem deep in conversation. I head over to them.

“Yes?”

“Your girlfriend was looking for you!”

For one moment, I'm surprised that Desiree was looking for me. And then I realize that they don't mean Desiree, they mean Liane.

“Liane's not my girlfriend,” I say.

“Oh! Denial is just the cutest thing ever!”

“I'm not eight. I'm eighteen,” I say with annoyance.

“Oh! So romantic!”

“I hate Liane Chau,” I declare suddenly. I don't want this whole 'girlfriend' thing with Liane to drag on. Because I'm sure someone will hear it and spread it around until it reaches the ears of Desiree Lilian and Drew Sorauren.

My mother gasps. “How can you say that about a girl?”

I can say a lot of things about girls. In fact, I can say this about Liane:

“She's a bitch. She's manipulative. She's an ass hole. She's pathetic. She's desperate. She's not an innocent little virgin. She's a slut. She talks too much. And I hate her,” I say honestly.

My mother looks horrified at my words. So does my father. I want to laugh, but I'm not in the mood.

Arianna and Con comes to the rescue.

“Hey! Andrew!” Arianna waves at me. “I didn't know you were back yet!”

So they did notice that I was gone—or remembered.

Con smiles at me, a little sheepishly because he barely noticed me at all—with all his time spent on Arianna. But I forgive him—because I know what it feels like to be with someone you like.

“Anyways,” Arianna continues, “I was wondering if you got anything down for your speech,” she says.

I shrug. “Uh... Not really.”

“Who's delivering the Eulogy?” Con asks.

“Winter wrote a will before she... Before she left,” I say. “It's not me. We're just going to talk about her, right? Just us,” I say. Because we're Winter's friends, we should say something about her. And even though ninety percent of this school pretends to know Winter—they don't. Only we do.

“Oh. I heard that Peter was going to cry or something,” Con says.

Arianna frowns. “That's so unlike Peter. He doesn't cry. He laughs. Maybe he laughs too much.”

“He had a thing for Winter,” I say, “you know. All that depression. Wouldn't you be upset if Con died on you?” I ask Arianna.

I'm trying to make them notice their feelings for each other, because they aren't officially together yet. I don't know a hundred percent if Arianna has feelings for Con or not, but I'm sure Con does.

Arianna blushes. “Well... I'd be really depressed,” she says. “But I'm sad already, because Winter was my friend.” She sobers.

Con doesn't say anything, but I can see from his face that Winter's death has left him numb.

Like me.

I wonder if all guys function the same way.

“Andrew,” my mother says. She looks disappointed and I know that she hasn't forgotten my comments about Liane Chau. Con and Arianna—who hasn't heard of my rude remarks about her gives me confused looks.

“I'm being honest,” I say. “That's what I think of her. I hate Liane. The only girlfriend that true to me is Desiree. And that's it.”

“But it's not a very nice thing to say,” my mother says. I know that she's disappointed in me—and my choice of words.

“Liane Chau's not nice at all. So why should I say something nice about her?”

My mother glares at me angrily. I know she's upset. Because Liane has been nothing but nice to my parents. That manipulative...

Before I can think another foul thought about her, my mother huffs and turns away from me like an angry teenager. My father gives me a scowl before following her.

“Liane Chau?” Arianna looks at me expectantly.

“She stalked me and came over to my house,” I say.

“She came over to your house,” Con says plainly, like he can't believe it. “When?”

“After you guys left. Maybe an hour after you left,” I say.

“So she stalked you. To your house,” Arianna says. There's a hint of amusement in her voice. I scowl, because having Liane stalk you isn't actually very funny.

“And she came in and was about to go in my room,” I add.

Con looks like she wants to start laughing at me.

“It's not funny! She's a major creeper,” I say. “Major.”

“Well I guess it makes sense if she's that into you—” Arianna's cut off by me.

“No,” I say forcefully. “No, it does not. Stalking someone—literally stalking someone, isn't right. She should see a doctor,” I say.

Arianna shrugs. “Well, I kind of see your point...”

“Turn around,” Con says. His eyes are narrowed. He looks at me and repeats, “turn around, Andrew.”

I'm confused, but I turn around as Con says. I see Winter's coffin far away and Desiree and Drew holding onto each other. The sight of them creates a pain in my chest.

“Yeah?” My eyes are on Desiree and Drew as I say this.

“Don't you see it! Your girlfriend! With some other guy! And I'm pretty sure that's not one of her relatives,” Con says.

I hear Arianna sigh. “They... They kind of... They kind of broke up, you know...”

There's a moment of silence. I'm not looking at Arianna and Con, so I don't know what their facial expression is.

Then Con speaks.

“What?!” He sounds as if he thinks that it's impossible—our break up. It sounds ridiculous and legit at the same time. Because I use to think the same way about Desiree and I before.

“So now she's with that guy?”

“Drew Sorauren,” I mutter.

“Drew Sorauren? But he's Winter's boyfriend!”

I shrug. “He says that she's dead now so he has to find someone else or something stupid like that,” I say.

Con curses. “Peter's not going to like that,” he says.

“I hate that guy,” I say simply. “Look at him—he's all over Desiree,” I say, glaring at them. He's holding Desiree tightly like he never wants to let go. They look like the perfect couple. Anger boils inside me.

“Wait—you guys were together yesterday. So it was today...? The break up, I mean,” Con says. I nod. Today's not a good day. If anything—this day is cursed.

“Hey, I think the funeral is starting,” Arianna says. There's more people then there was before. I see more students than before.

The chatter isn't very loud, which is surprising. I mean, with so many people here (especially the teenagers), you'd think that it be extremely loud. But it's not. So I guess most of the girls are already down to texting each other back and forth.

“We're here today, to honour Winterlyn Evaline Lawly,” someone says into the microphone.

I brace myself to hear catcalls and some words of disrespect, but surprising, it doesn't come. I look around. There are guys who look like they want to do some show of disrespect, but they're not brave enough.

“To begin with, we have some sort speeches about Winterlyn. And then the Eulogy will be delivered.”

The speeches—I don't even know what to say. I guess I'll improvise.

“The first person—Peter Misali.”

I see Peter walk over and stand by Winter's coffin. He looks nervous. His black hair isn't as unruly as it usually is. So I guess he cleaned up after playing basketball with the others.

“Um,” Peter begins. “Winter—Winterlyn was a great friend,” he says. There's some sort of emotion in his expression, but I'm too far away from him to decipher it.

“I don't know why she killed herself—but I-I think it was a stupid thing to do,” he stammers. I see some people cringe at the word 'stupid'. But Peter continues on.

“Winter—Winterlyn,” he corrects, “had a bright future ahead of her. She was a smart girl who knew who her friends and enemies were. She was kind and brave,” Peter says.

“She was my friend,” he says, his voice barely audible. I hear some people who can't hear what he had said say 'what? What did he say?'

“Winterlyn's death... It shouldn't have happened,” Peter says. “I wish that I had more time with her—she was a great person, really.” He swallows. “I miss her already.”

With that, Peter walks away from the coffin. For a brief moment, I wonder if anyone stupid enough will clap. But there's silence. And I realize that not everyone in our high school is stupid.

“Tomas Feriallas.”

Tomas walks over to the coffin—like Peter did and starts talking. His speech is short and quick.

“Winter was a great person. She understood everyone. And I really, really wished that she would be here right now—in mind and soul, instead of her body in a coffin,” he says. I think he means to sound humorous—like comic relief. But he fails to do that. Instead, his voice is hoarse.

“So yeah. Winter, if you're here right now, I hope I see you one day. Maybe at the Pearly Gates, you know.” He gives a short laugh, but it's filled with remorse. He then gives the coffin a look and walks back to his spot.

“Con Falks.”

Con gets up and stands where he is instead of going up front. “Winterlyn Evaline Lawly,” he says, as if repeating the name of a poem. Or even a story.

“Was a great person—like everyone said. She never said mean things about anyone—or if she did, she never spoke them to me. Winter doesn't deserve to be...dead in that...coffin. She's... She's a damn great person,” he finishes and then he sits down again.

I realize that these are really speeches. They're just final words about her. From her friends.

“Arianna Golding.”

Arianna stand up and remains in place like Con did.

“Winter,” she says and then she swallows. “Winter's a great person. She's smart and funny. And she's just... She's just an amazing friend.” I realize that everything Arianna said is in present tense. “Winter is one of the brightest people you'd ever met. She's optimistic. She can brighten up any day.”

I can see Arianna's eyes begin to get shiny with tears.

“Winter shouldn't be in that coffin, like what Con and Tomas said,” she says. “Winter's brilliant. That's all there is to it,” she finishes.

Arianna sits back down and the next name is called.

“Desiree Lilian.”

Hearing Desiree's name makes my throat go dry. She shouldn't be going through this alone. I should be with her instead of that... Instead of that Drew Sorauren.

I should be the one holding her—not Drew.

Her face is already tear-streaked.

And Drew is holding her tight to him. The sight of them makes me furious. But I have to tell myself that I'm at Winter's funeral and I shouldn't do something stupid and drastic.

“Winter—lyn was a good friend—no she was a great friend.” I realize that they're back to talking in past-tense. “Winterlyn would help me in times of confusion. She had a lot of her own problems, but she wouldn't mind helping other people even when she had enough to deal with, herself.”

Drew looks grief-stricken. It looks so real. But I convince myself that it's just an act. Drew had just said that he didn't care about Winter...

Maybe he's as manipulative as Liane Chau. Or evil—or whatever.

Or maybe he knows something about the cause of Winter's suicide. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Winterlyn was brave, smart, funny and just amazing,” Desiree continues. I see tears running down her face. Right now, I want to run up to her and hold her right here. But I know I can't—shouldn't. Drew is with her. And as much as I hate to admit it—she hates me right now.

“Winterlyn had an extremely strong spirit,” Desiree says. “I wish that Winterlyn was here—not...dead. But... If wishes were horses even the beggars would ride,” Desiree says softly. Tears spill down her cheeks and I want to her hold.

There's a moment of silence and I realize that Desiree is finished. I'm next.

“Andrew Campbell.”

I stand, because I don't want to be disrespectful to Winter and stay sitting. I'm here to honour her.

I open my mouth to say something and I realize that my mind is blank. I have no idea what to say. Everyone seems to be staring at me.

I don't know what to say—I don't know what to say—

Someone clears their throat and I realize that I'm probably taking too long. I swallow. My eyes catches Desiree's. And suddenly, like someone has turned on the light bulb in my head, I have an idea on what to say.

I take a breath in before I start.

“Winterlyn Evaline Lawly,” I say, stating her full name, “goes by Winter to everyone that knew her.” I look specifically at Liane to make sure the point gets across. She looks bewildered and confused at my scrutinizing look. I think she knows what I'm getting to. And if she doesn't—then she's an even bigger idiot than I think.

“Winter is a great person,” I say, careful to make sure it's in present-tense. I refuse to give a speech about Winter in past-tense. Especially at her funeral. And who says she was a great person? Even in death, I know she still will be a great person.

“But everybody said that already. And I don't want to repeat things that people have already said,” I say. “Winter's a colourful person. And it feels kind of weird to be saying that because I know you're all wondering 'what the heck does he mean by that?' and things like that.”

I have everybody's attention. Or hopefully everybody's attention. Though I know I have more than ninety percent of this group's attention.

“Winter isn't plain and boring. She stands out. She's brilliant. She's... She's a one of a kind girl. And she's brave. She's just... She's just Winter. She's impossible to miss,” I say. I pause and look around at everyone.

“Though I'm not sure why no one has noticed her until now.”

I see Drew pull Desiree tighter to him and I'm fuelled by the image of them together. I keep going on. I'm not stopping here.

“In ninth grade, many of you have heard that I wasn't... I wasn't right,” I say. I look at Desiree and then I glare at Liane. I'm setting this straight—screw what Liane and her article says—this is the truth.

“But ever since Liane's paper came out, all this talk about me in the drugs turned into Desiree the drug dealer,” I say. Desiree eyes me questioningly. She doesn't know if I'll talk well of her—like I always do, or if I'll talk poorly of her just because I don't like her and Drew together.

But of course I won't talk poorly about her just because I'm jealous—I'm not that rude.

“Desiree isn't a drug dealer,” I say. Liane shots me a dirty look, but I'm indifferent to it. I hear disappointed murmurs spreading along the high school students. Rumour defeated. Though I'm not sure if it's one hundred percent defeated—because I know that none of the students want a drama less way to end the year.

These people are full of drama—so I give it to them. I give them a scandal—something to talk about. I don't want Desiree to be tortured.

“I'm the druggie, to be honest,” I say. I hear some people say 'I knew it! I knew it! I knew there was always something fishy about him!'

I think of my old feelings—the feelings that the drugs gave me. A feeling of power—the high, the calmness of some of the drugs. Everything. A gateway.

“My middle school friends introduced me to them. They weren't addicted to them though. I got the first shot and I loved it. Soon, whenever I was depressed or something similar, I would get the drugs. They'd get it from a drug dealer and give it to me.

“Soon, I took it daily. And the high was getting lower and lower. I was disappointed with it. Soon, I started to use marijuana—weed. I thought it helped with my work—it made me calm and made me think.”

I can see Desiree shaking her head at this. No surprise. She hates my drug history—but she's come to accept it, if only just a bit. Though there's still a part of her that despises when I tell my drug history to others. Especially to the entire twelfth grade population with an exception of a few younger and older people.

“Winter found me,” I state blandly. “On a cold winter's day.”

I see Desiree, a hint of a smile on her face. Then it quickly shifts to indifference as she realizes that she's starting to smile.

“She tried to help me. She tried to make me stop—but at that time, it was almost useless to try. She might as well be trying to resurrect the dead,” I say. “I hated her at that time. Why would she want to help me? Couldn't she just leave me alone? I hated her so much.

“Worse thing was—Winter supervised me like... Like a parent. She was like a constant bug attached to me. Like...like that clingy girlfriend I use to have in ninth grade. It was annoying. I hated her. I wished that she would leave me the hell alone.

“But no—she wouldn't. It was like she had sensors on her—she knew when I would take the drugs out. And every time I did—she took them away from me. She was around me so often that I couldn't go to the drug dealer. And worse off—she was in every single class of mine.

“My 'friends' got fed up with her and told me to get rid of her—I couldn't. And they ditched me. They weren't real friends anyways.” I have long since forgotten the names of those idiots who I thought were my friends. They weren't my friends. They didn't give a damn about me.

“Winter was sympathetic at my lost. But at the same time, she was glad that I was away from them. They were horrible influence. She took me to her own friends. Arianna Golding and Desiree Lilian.

“They hated me,” I say solemnly.

“Everyday, they would give me death glares and whisper rude things about me—most of the time, the 'whispers' were loud enough for me to hear. And trust me—their remarks were not flattering at all. To tell the truth—it made me a little insecure.

“I tried to get back at my old friends, but they wouldn't let me in. Then I came across Con Falks, Peter Misali and Tomas Feriallas.

“It was nice to have friends that were guys—not girls. But they weren't really my friends yet at that time. I hung out with them a lot though. I didn't know why, because I didn't want to have any friends except for my old ones. Maybe I thought they were druggies too. Maybe I thought I could persuade them. Maybe I thought I could use them as a human shield. Whatever it was—I'm sure it was something stupid.

“Anyways, slowly, I got use to them. They took me in because... I don't know. Because they took pity on me—maybe. I was a mess. My parents had threatened to kick me out of the house. It was a sorry sight—me, the druggie. The one who was dumb enough to let their parents find out what they were doing. So I guess I wasn't ever cut out to deceive like all the others did.

“I was stupid. That's the main point of my whole drug fiasco. I was stupid, idiot, and... Well, you can say that I was too innocent to think that drugs would somehow hurt me. I thought I was invincible.”

The word is caught in my throat. 'Invincible'. Well now we know who isn't invincible, right? I cast a look at Winter's coffin. And I think some people catch that look too.

“Invincible,” I repeat. “That's not what human beings are. We all have weaknesses... And Winter fell to hers.” I'm not yet done with my speech, so I continue. More ideas stream into my head. I don't know where all this is coming from, but I'm grateful for all these ideas.

“Before I get to that point, I'll continue with... I'll continue with...destroying the rumour,” I say, while looking at Liane.

“Like I said before,” I say, “I'm not invincible, as much as I'd like to be. I took the remaining drugs I had during the rare moments when Winter wasn't there. But there was so little. And I didn't have enough time to get to buy more from the drug dealer.

“Luckily, I was only taking small doses at the time, and I wasn't overly addicted. My drawback was very minor. But even so—drawbacks are...the worst thing you would ever know. Something you love—someone, something, anything—just within reach, but you can't have it. It made me want to kill myself. Though it didn't last as long, thank God.

“I had no more drugs left. No more powder. Nothing. Not even a single dose of weed—marijuana. Winter was glad. And she made sure it stayed that way. She knew I used the last of my pack, but as long as I didn't have it anymore—she was glad.

“I thought I would kill myself. I had suicidal thoughts running through my head—at least once everyday. Arianna and Desiree didn't make it any better. They kept glaring at me. They kept saying crap about me. It bothered me a lot more—because I didn't have the drugs anymore. I don't know why—but having the drugs in my hand—my pocket, it made me feel a lot better. It made me feel so much stronger than them. Because I took drugs. I thought I was way better than them.

“I would have killed myself if it wasn't for Peter, Tomas, Con and...Winter. They helped me. They kept encouraging me so I wouldn't fall to my weakness.”

I wish that I was there when Winter was falling to her weakness... But it's too late now. She's in that coffin. My eyes flick over to the coffin again.

“They believed in me even when I couldn't believe in myself. They would build up my strength... And Arianna and Desiree would tear it down.

“Just because I couldn't get drugs anymore didn't mean that they would suddenly gain respect for me.”

I remember those lines. Desiree had yelled it at me once in tenth grade.

Just because you're not a drug-infested little rat doesn't mean that we'll suddenly gain respect for you! Once you take it, you're gone. The respect is gone. You're nothing but a druggie in my eyes. Just because you want to be cool right? Well I'll tell you: you're not cool at you! You.. You wannabe! You bastard!

Believe in second chances?

That was what I told her, before Winter had to prevent her from slapping me.

“Arianna and Desiree... You can say that they hated me with a burning passion. Even after I got over my suicidal thoughts and realize what an idiot I've been.

“Winter and I became friends soon near the middle of ninth grade. Real friends—not just her following me around and scolding me like she was my mother.

“Arianna and Desiree still hated me. And the cycle went on. Until a year later—in the middle of tenth grade. Arianna and Desiree's hatred had begun to...soften. They still talked poorly of me—but less. They wouldn't glare at me every time they saw me... And once, Desiree even smiled at me.

“Things went like that until the summer of tenth grade. Long story made short—Arianna and Desiree stopped hating me. They... Well, they got over...themselves.

“Okay, more on this topic: I lusted after Desiree during most of ninth grade, on a little. This was after Winter... After she saved me. Because before, I would have never noticed Desiree. During tenth grade... My feelings shifted from lust to...” I couldn't say the word. Not here—in front of all these people. I give Desiree and apologetic look, though she looks confused at that look I'm giving her.

“Well, I think you'll understand. I don't know when it happened—or even why. During the summer of tenth grade, I made my move. It was Winter, who brought us together.

“The main point of this is—to stop the stupid rumours about Winter being the druggie. It's not true. She's one of the best people that I've ever met in my life. She's full of moral and support. She helped me in the darkest times. Whenever I had a problem, I could go to her. She's... She's like my... She's like my guidance teacher!

“I can't believe that I'm here,” I say, “talking to all of you about how great Winter is. Barely anyone knew such an amazing person. She went unnoticed. Until now. Until her death. It's actually quite depressing that no one remembered her name until now.”

Everyone's silent. I wonder what they're thinking. But I continue on with my speech, I'm almost done.

“Winterlyn Evaline Lawly,” I say, “is a great person. There's nothing else to it. And she fell. She fell to a weakness that she hid so well. I wish that I knew before she decided to leave this world. But—like Desiree said before—if wishes were horses, even the beggars would ride.”

I wait for a moment before I add the final words.

“Though many of you didn't know her at all—she'll be greatly missed. And you'll have greatly missed what was there the whole time—until it was too late.”

I stand for a brief moment before sitting back down.

“That was amazing, Andrew,” Arianna whispers to me in the silence.

“Thanks,” I say.

I realize that my speech has been the longest one. Maybe some people got bored in between and zoned out. That thought makes me kind of angry because I poured a lot of thought into that speech.

But how about the emotions?

I realize that I still don't feel much. Even though I said the speech—my brain is still somehow asleep. The only feeling I get when I think of Winterlyn Evaline Lawly is a dull ache in my heart. Feeling like... The feeling feels like it belongs to someone else.

The ache doesn't hurt as much.

I don't feel as if Winter is going to rise up from the coffin and tell me good afternoon or something like that—or course. But... It doesn't feel realistic—that she's gone.

Before I time to dwell on my emotions—or lack of it, we move on to the Eulogy.

“The Eulogy will be delivered by Drew Sorauren.”

Drew jerks his head up. There's no surprise on his face though. But I'm surprised. Did Winter write that she anted Drew to deliver the Eulogy? Or did they just pick him?

Drew draws in a breath. Desiree is still in his arms, but I try to ignore that fact for a moment as I focus on what he's going to say.

And is it just me... Or does he look... Does he look...sad? Grief-stricken?

“Winterlyn—Winter, as Andrew had explained,” Drew starts, “is a...a great person.” I realize that he's speaking in present-tense too.

“I know everyone's said that she's a great person. I know you're all getting bored of hearing that phrase. But it's true. Otherwise, we would have never said that about her.

“There are rumours,” Drew states. “The rumours say that I'm seeing Winter. And I know most of you are surprised...because... Not to sound arrogant—but I'm...me.”

Those words make him sound like an arrogant bastard. But the way he had said it, it just soften his tone. It didn't sound half as bad as it would have if he said it like the way he told me that Winter was merely 'dead'.

I wonder how he's going to factor that in—that he doesn't care about her. He doesn't care that she's dead.

“But it's true,” he says. “I... I was seeing her.”

I hear some murmurs along some of the girls. But I realize that no one is glaring at her coffin. Maybe they're mature enough to realize that the past is the past and the person that they would be glaring at is dead.

Dead and gone to the world. Unknowing—in oblivion.

But those thoughts don't create any emotion except for another dull pain in my heart—that barely feels like anything at all except for just a soft and playful punch.

But death isn't suppose to be 'soft and playful'.

Winter is dead.

Drew continues on what he's saying. “She's more than a friend to me. It's impossible that she's dead. Like Andrew said: I wish that she would have told me her weakness—then I could help. But she—” He stops abruptly and an expression of hurt forms on his face.

“Winter had so many problems in her life,” he says. “Like what Desiree had said—Winter had problems in her life, like any normal person. But she would help you too.

“She had so many things to deal with. You wouldn't even think it was possible. It was normal worries stacked with fear.

“Funny how fear,” he gestures to her coffin, “can ruin your life. I wish I could have helped her. I know I probably could. But I was too stupid—too idiot. And too caught up in my own 'problems'.” He puts air quotes on the word 'problem'.

“So if her death can be blamed on someone, it would be me.” He looks so anguished. It's kind of painful to see him like that.

Then, he reaches in his pocket and picks out a rose—a white rose. He lets go of Desiree and walks over to the coffin. I watch him place the rose down, maybe on her hands. And if I didn't know better, I could have sworn he was crying.