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“Understandable,” Dad says over his coffee mug. Unless the Texans are playing football on TV, Luke Clearwater is a man of very few words. He has even fewer today.
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel as I walk through the cemetery. Sad, obviously. Scared out of my mind because I’ll be giving the eulogy? Probably.
Mostly there’s this unplaceable feeling deep in my chest that makes my fingers and toes feel light. Like when you’re at the top of a roller coaster and it hasn’t dropped yet, but you know at any second, your stomach will fly up into your throat, your butt will lift off the seat, and for just a moment, there will be an addicting kind of chaos.
Several rows of folding chairs sit in front of Sasha’s casket, which is even more spectacular in the summer sun. The wildflower planters are stunning; every color of the rainbow blooms and stretches toward the sky, making Sasha’s casket look like a work of art.
I stand there and watch people arrive. Sasha’s parents give me a quick hug but then they’re taken away by the duty of greeting guests with pained smiles. Before long, it’s obvious that every member of our senior class and many of the juniors have shown up, and they stand around filling every inch of grass. I recognize a few teachers as well, along with our principal and Mrs. Sparks, who was Sasha’s kindergarten teacher.
Zack wears a suit that makes him look more handsome than I’ve ever seen him. His grin tells me he knows how great he looks, his eyes locking on mine as he walks up the rows of chairs. He hugs and kisses me like I never yelled at him to leave my backyard.
“Thanks for coming,” I manage to say. He takes a spot next to some of Sasha’s distant relatives.
The funeral begins and Pastor Williams reads Bible passages and a poem. I’m sitting up front, right next to Mr. and Mrs. Cade and my parents, but I don’t really hear a thing he says. Instead, all I seem to hear are Mrs. Cade’s quiet sobs and the crinkle of her package of tissues as she reaches for another one, and yet another.
My typed eulogy gets sweaty from my grip. Public speaking isn’t my favorite thing, but weirdly, I’m not nervous anymore.
When Pastor Williams calls me up, I rise and walk to the podium. Zack meets my gaze and gives me a thumbs-up. Then I glance toward Sasha’s parents, who watch me with eager, bloodshot eyes.
“Good afternoon,” I say, glancing at the casket. “My name is Raquel Clearwater, though you probably already know that.”
I open up the paper, spread it out flat on top of the wooden surface. The words blur as tears fill my vision. I draw in a slow and deep breath, glancing back out at the crowd. I see Izzy in a flowy dress, and she smiles.
“I met Sasha in Mrs. Wood’s class. My family wasn’t doing too well back then, and I had these stupid shoes that came from the dollar store on Fifth Street. It was the first day of first grade and we had to sit in a circle, and some kid saw the dollar store logo on the bottom of my shoes. Everyone laughed and made fun of me. That’s when Sasha walked up and declared that she thought they were cool.
“The next day, she came to school wearing the same shoes. Mine were pink and hers were purple.” I can’t help smiling. “We were six years old and she was already cool as hell. Soon, everyone else wanted the shoes because Sasha had them. The dollar store couldn’t keep them in stock anymore because they were flying off the shelves.”
There’s some soft laughter in the crowd and I focus on the spray of gorgeous sunflowers on top of the casket. “Sasha became my best friend that day, and she has saved me from being an outcast about a thousand more times over the years, in many ways that I won’t tell you guys because it’d be mortifying.”
More laughter. I glance at Mrs. Cade and she beams at me, the same kind of smile she used to give Sasha all the time. I swallow and glance back at my paper.
“Sasha Cade was kind. She was an old soul with a spark that couldn’t be extinguished. She pulled me out of my shell time and time again, and taught me to do what I love without caring what other people think. Once she became your friend, she would move heaven and earth to make sure you had what you needed. I’ve always known I could never pay her back for how much she’s given me over the years. But even if I could somehow do that, she wouldn’t have let me.”
The next line of my eulogy begins an
other story from our past, but I skip over it, knowing I’ll burst into tears and ruin my speech. I notice Zack is staring at his phone. Annoyed, I scan the crowd. Sasha would have loved this, all these people here just for her. I take a deep breath and skip to the last words on my paper.
“Sasha was a firecracker. I loved her, and I will miss her every day. She’s leaving a trail of sunshine in heaven now.” Tears spring to my eyes and I rush to the end. “Thank you for coming today.”
I look up to the sky, close my eyes and feel the sun warming every cell in my body. I have no freaking clue who I am without Sasha.
But I’ll be okay.
Pastor Williams clears his throat and hands me an envelope. In a hushed tone, he says, “Sasha wanted me to give you this, at this moment. You’re supposed to read it.”
This isn’t in the binder.
I take the envelope and turn it over. My heart hammers in my chest. Written in pink Sharpie, in Sasha’s perfect cursive, are these words:
Sorry to spring this on you, Rocki. I have some final things to say.
Love you always,
Sasha
Chapter Four
After months of planning every second of this funeral, she would have known that springing a surprise self-eulogy on me last minute, while I’m standing up here with the entire senior class watching me, would have been a shock.
