KINGSMAN

VII

THE FUNERAL, THOUGH IT WAS MEANT TO BE A PRIVATE AFFAIR, HAD A GUEST LIST OF OVER FIFTY PEOPLE.

And even that didn't cover the "plus-ones" such as herself.

Sylvi had never been to a funeral before, but she could guess that it was supposed to be a bit more melancholy. If you didn't know it was a funeral, you might've thought Ms. Webb had extended her celebration another day.

Guests wore their mourning black but still managed to make it look lavish. Flowing gowns and crisp suits and lace umbrellas she hadn't known existed outside '60s pulp novels. Ms. Webb herself wore a ginormous black sunhat and sniffled, dabbing a handkerchief at her dry eyes. Servers donned in coal to soot, stood by tables and offered refreshments she didn't take.

It was strange, being considered a guest though she didn't think herself one. Especially being one of the only other people of color besides the Ngo family.

It reminded her of her mother's words: "If you're the darkest person in the room, there's a problem, and you should leave." Sylvi, however, couldn't leave even if she tried.

She sat through dry eulogies and over-acted crying and the stares of rich white people all trying to place her and failing. Samuel had gone last, everyone's breath held as he stepped onto the dais and began to speak. "I am not going to say Benjamin died in his prime. He was young, as we all are or have been, and he made mistakes. But he should've gotten the opportunity to reach prime. It's a tragedy he was taken from us so soon."

The funeral was open casket and it both shocked and disgusted her how alive Benjamin seemed, though not in the way she or any of the other people in the room were alive. He was set to look perfect and at peace. His features had been arranged, skin smooth as porcelain. He looked like a doll.

Sylvi stood at the casket and stared down at him, letting the tumult of emotions roil inside her. Samuel Webb sidled up beside her. Even he couldn't get a reaction out of her, she felt frozen inside, like everything had stopped and devoted its energy to deducing how she should react.

"Such a shame," he said.

Sylvi was startled out of herself. "Excuse me?"

He looked down at her, though not by much. "What I said holds true, he didn't die in his prime, if anything its the opposite. However, that doesn't make the situation any better."

"Don't you... feel bad? Weren't you friends?"

"Why should I feel bad? I didn't push him and besides, everyone knows what happened."

"He fell," she grit out, "he's dead."

"He got drunk and tripped. Open your eyes Carson, don't tell me you really believed all that?"

She had no reply to that. Had it been a drunken accident? She tried to bring forward the picture of them in the hallway, Benjamin, breezing past her as if he were made of nothing. Her, stricken and trying not to get involved- what good that had done. At the time, she'd smelt alcohol everywhere, as if the very air were made of it, vaporized.

Sylvi followed Samuel's gaze to where the other Kingsmen stood scattered amongst the crowd. Archer was grinning and staving off a crowd of well-wishers. Roman swirled his own glass as he leaned on the confections table and looked over the scene, occasionally she caught his eyes snagging on her and Samuel. Finally, Sienna stood with her parents, talking. She narrowed her eyes at him and her parents followed her gaze and smiled, practiced, and waved him over.

Samuel looked at her looking at Sienna. He nodded toward her and Sylvi began her approach. She snatched one last glance at Benjamin, even in death he looked more like a ghost than a cadaver, and followed Samuel.