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I’d decided days ago that I wouldn’t be attending the high school graduation ceremony. I never would have gone anyway, knowing that the only place I’d want to be is at Faye’s funeral. But the truth was, the kids from school had already started sending me horrible text messages. I didn’t even know who half of them were from, and while I might have advised anyone who’d received the messages that I did to contact the authorities, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Because even if I knew what had happened, even if I knew that there was no way for any of us to predict what was going to happen that day, I started to realize that itwasmy fault.
Everyone in school knew who I was. Hell, I’d been votedMost Daringin the class superlatives. So, why was it Cristina, Janelle, and Faye who’d paid the price?
The grief I felt was unbearable. It consumed all of me. My mom had been wonderful, doing everything to support me and take care of me through this. Even under the cloud of despair, I knew my mom was thinking one thing: her daughter was experiencing an incredible loss for the second time in her life.
And now, she’d brought me here to Faye’s funeral, and I couldn’t remember a time I’d felt such sorrow and fear all at the same time.
This was it.
This was the last chance I had to say goodbye to her.
For some reason, I was stuck, unable to move beyond the tree that was easily two or three hundred feet away from where everyone was congregating.
“Are you ready?” my mom asked.
I shook my head. “No. I just want to stay here for a few minutes.”
“I’ll wait with you,” she said.
“Go,” I urged quietly. “One of us should be there at the start.”
“But Sawyer, you—”
“I’ll be okay, Mom,” I insisted, cutting her off. “I promise. Please, go and be with Faye’s family.”
There was a long pause before my mom finally gave me a nod and started walking away.
Then, I watched from a distance as everyone bowed their heads, wiped their tears, and mourned the loss of a beautiful woman. No matter that I understood their pain and anguish, nor that I wanted to be right there with them, I couldn’t bring myself to approach.
Deep down, I knew it was because I was afraid.
It didn’t matter that this was Faye’s family and that they’d known me for years. It didn’t matter that they knew how much I loved her. How could I face them?
I stood in that spot by the tree for what felt like hours until, eventually, the crowd began to disperse. People began walking away, moving toward their cars. I saw Faye’s dad all but carrying his wife to the car that would be taking them home, and I didn’t even make the attempt to go and speak to them.
For the first time since my father died, I truly felt like a coward. There wasn’t a single thing about me that was brave or courageous.
When the crowd had thinned substantially, I finally started walking forward. On my way there, I saw him.
Jesse.
He was sitting in one of the chairs beside her gravesite, a chair that had probably been occupied by one of her parents only minutes before. His body was hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs, and his hands clasped in front of him.
Something obstructed the view I had to him, and I was forced to look away. It was my mother, walking in my direction.
“Are you okay, honey?” she asked.
Not wanting her to feel even more concerned than she already was, I gave her a nod. “I’ll be quick,” I promised.
She lifted her hand to the side of my face and cupped my cheek. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll wait for you by the car.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I murmured.
By the time I made it there, nearly everybody was gone.
Everybody but him.
