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Her hand flew out and slapped me across the face. “Enough.”
“You … you hit me!” I stepped back.
“You’re acting like a spoiled brat.” She stepped after me. “Get in the house.”
“I hate you!” I snarled.
She threw her glass of tea, smashing it on the ground. “Not as much as I hate you.” She slapped me again. “I amdonewith you being a brat.”
Huffing out a hard breath, I turned to go into the house.
“And don’t think I don’t know about your little white trash friend.” Her shoes crunched the small shards of glass. “Stay away from her.”
Shaking my head, I stormed inside, running to my room to be alone.
Miranda
The last few days blurred all together. I didn’t want to talk to anyone … that’s not true. The one person I wanted to talk to didn’t call or come by.
My body felt numb. My brain couldn’t process any thoughts and I didn’t want to hear anymore condolences.
People have been in and out of our home, bringing food, paper products, and repeated offers if we need anything to call.
You know what I needed?
Everyone to leave me alone.
I hated funerals. I hated death. I hated people. I hated the smell of the funeral home.
The foyer at the funeral home was meant to be comforting.
Spoiler alert. It wasn’t
“There you are, Miranda.” Wally and Andrew’s mom walked over to me. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for your loss.” She placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face. “You’re probably so sick of hearing that.”
“Thanks.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Jeremy’s mom, Miss Jean, walked up.
How many times had I heard that? A hundred? A million? What does it even mean? Great. You’re sorry. You didn’t kill her. You didn’t kill my parents.
The women stepped back to give me breathing room, and I slinked away. I didn’t want any more hugs. Walking through the funeral home, I made my way to a dark corner and hid.
Every person here loved my grandma. I’d heard all the stories and loved them, but right now they weren’t bringing me comfort.
All I wanted was for my grandma to be alive.
It’s not fair that she’s gone.
Most of my teachers sent home make-up work for me and I had it all completed while I avoided all the plans that were being made.
I wanted to go home. I wanted my goats and dogs.
“There you are.” My grandpa’s soft voice made me look up.
“Sorry.”
He sat down beside me. “You don’t have to be sorry, punkin.”
