Dressed in all black, I limp from my room. I’m not going to lie, this sucks. They gave me pain medicine, but it still hurts. I can walk, but it’s not pretty or quick. They said I may get lucky and make a full recovery, but we won’t know if I have any residual nerve damage until it’s completely healed.
“Where are you going?” my mother asks. “And where are your crutches?”
“To the memorial.” I grab the stupid things from where I’d leaned them against the couch earlier and prop them under my arms. They’re a pain in the ass.
“Absolutely not! You aren’t going anywhere near that place.”
Ignoring her, I keep moving toward the front door.
“Ashton!”
“He was my friend! I know you think everyone here is trouble, but Akers was good to me! He was nice and funny, and I cared about him. He cared about me! Now, he’s gone, and I’m going!”
Gran grabs her keys from the counter. “I’ll take her with me.”
“No—”
Gran throws up a hand. “Brenda, let the girl grieve for one day. Tomorrow, you can take her home and never come back. But give her this.”
She frowns but doesn’t object.
Gran and I head to the car without a word.
I hate this. A week ago, I felt like I’d finally found the place I belong. I had friends—Gabriel. I finally had my brother back even if he is a mess. Now, Akers is gone, and I guess Gabriel is too. I’m alone.
Halfway to the church, I mutter, “Thank you for bringing me.”
She exhales, not taking her eyes from the room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I’m not gonna be the reason you don’t get to say goodbye.”
“Do you think Gabriel will be there?” I ask, knowing that’s the reason she’s saying it’s not a good idea but not caring.
“I would assume.”
I nod, not saying anything else the rest of the drive. He owes me an explanation. You can’t just break up with someone like that, then never speak to them again. Especially after everything that happened.
Gran waves at people as we pass them on the way into the building. Thunder rolls through the overcast sky. We sit in a pew near the back. It’s packed. Kids our age, probablypeople he went to school with, and men in leather cuts filter in with tears in their eyes. The air’s heavy. A picture of him sits near the front. My chest feels like there’s a cinderblock resting on it.
Why am I the one still sitting here and not him?
JT turns around from the second row. His eyes meet mine, and he lifts a hand with a sad smile. I return the gesture. Colette sits in the front, her arm wrapped around Akers’s mother, rubbing circles on her back.
Just as the service starts, Gabriel sneaks in. His eyes flick in my direction as he makes his way up to where JT is and slides in beside him not giving me a second glance. Jon turns back to Gabriel from the front row. For the first time, I see him shift to nothing more than a father. His eyes silently saying,Are you okay? I’m here.
He reaches over the back of the pew and squeezes his son’s shoulder.
Akers’s brother speaks. His mother wails. Everyone mourns a life taken too soon and a light ripped from our hearts.
There’s a lot of talk of God and Heaven. That feels strange. How could this be what God wants? How can all of these broken hearts, cracking like glass, be the work of God? Akers wasn’t even part of the club yet. He was barely a prospect, and only because it’s the world he was raised in. What would he have been if his dad wasn’t part of this club?
When it’s over, everyone stands. Gabriel hugs Akers’s family before making a beeline for the door.
“I’ll be right back,” I whisper.
“Ashton—” Gran tries to stop me, but I’m already out of the pew and hobbling after him without my crutches. It hurts, but I push through.
Ineedto talk to him.
When the doors swing open, he’s already down the stairs. He doesn’t even look back. It’s started to rain. Of course it has because even Mother Nature knows the loss we’ve suffered.
