Jake

I trip off the bus, the cold January air hitting me like a slap in the face. Still humming the song all my friends were singing eighth period, I stroll down the sidewalk to my house. The unplowed snow buries my feet with every step I take, but I press on. I pretend not to see the hospital bill in the mailbox as I open the door.

The silence is unbearable. It's hard to believe that only a few days ago, my brother was here already, sitting on the couch and texting his friends with MTV blasting in the background. "Hey, twerp," Jake said, and I threw my coat over his head to shut him up.

But the part of that day I wish I could change was when I ran upstairs to check my email. I got so caught up texting my best friend Izzy that I never went back downstairs. I guess I didn't realize how precious those last few moments would have been.

I walk upstairs, stalling as much as possible, to find my mom fixing her hair in the bathroom mirror.

"Hey, Mom," I say.

"Get dressed" is the only response I get.

Silently, I go to my room and shut the door behind me. I pick up the black dress I laid out on my bed this morning, holding it at eye level.

I wish I didn't have to wear this dress. I wish I didn't have to buy it last night, but most of all, I wish Jake was still here.

I absentmindedly throw the dress on over all my clothes. That won't be noticeable, right? Even if it is, who cares? No one's going to notice in a room full of broken hearts.

I walk downstairs and slip my black flats on. My mom starts out the door as I trail slowly behind.

The car ride to the church is frighteningly silent. I make sure I don't say a word, and it's clear that my mom is making an enormous effort not to cry. So I stare out the window for the whole five minutes.

When we arrive at the church, there is nearly nowhere to park. Everyone my brother ever knew is in that building, including some of the kids he hadn't seen since first grade.

As we walk through the doors, the church is almost too quiet. The only thing you can hear is the faint sound of weeping in the background.

Every head in the building turns to look at us. "I'm sorry for your loss," some say. Others are much too upset to say a word.

After the first two minutes, my mom is tears, but I'm too empty to cry.

The next two hours drag on. We listen to speech after speech about what an amazing person my brother was. I recite the speech I've practiced hundreds of times in the bathroom mirror, not paying any attention to the words coming out of my mouth.

When the funeral ends, everyone files out the door. I stay behind.

I sit on the edge of the back pew. Once my mom realizes I'm gone, she turns on her heel and walks back into the church. "Bridget?" she calls from the door.

She spots me in the corner of her eye. "Come on. We have to be at your sisters house in ten minutes."

I don't say a word. Instead, I burst into tears.

My mom sits down next to me. She puts her arm around me as I lean my head on her shoulders. We sit there in silence for a little while, until my mom stands up. "Let's go," she says.

We walk out to the car. It must of snowed when we were inside, because the ground is pure white.

When we arrive at my sister's house, her husband, Danny, greets us at the door. "Hey guys!" he says.

I admire him. I always have, ever since the day my sister, Rachel, brought him home after school five years ago. He's always been so optimistic. He makes the best of every situation, no matter how tragic it may be.

"Hey, Danny," my mother says halfheartedly. But I don't say a word. I push past my brother-in-law and sit down on the leather couch.

My mom leaves the room to help Rachel in the kitchen, leaving me and Danny alone. My face must be tearstained, so I try to rub away any evidence that I was crying earlier.

"What's wrong, Bridge?" asks Danny.

I sigh. "I miss Jake."

He laughs. "Really? Because the last time you two were here you were fighting over who got the last piece of apple pie."

I smile and he puts his arm around me.

"I know it may seem bad, but just remember that he's in a better place."

I nod, and Danny gets up to chase my three-year-old niece, Lilly, who ran off to the kitchen a few seconds ago.

I sit there on the couch for awhile longer, thinking, before Rachel comes out to tell me that dinner's ready. I walk out to the kitchen, tripping over Lilly's toys, as my sister sets a big pot of spaghetti on the table. Everyone helps themselves to salad, but I just sit there.

Once everybody is finished eating, Rachel takes everyone's plates and sits down at the table with a huge smile on her face. "I've been debating over when to tell you this, but I think now is a good time."

Everyone looks confused, but when I look at Danny, he's grinning.

"Guess what," says Rachel.

We all exchange glances.

"I'm pregnant!" Rachel says as we all gasp.

"Seriously?" my mother asks excitedly.

Rachel nods.

"Lily's going to have a little brother or sister!" says my grandmother.

The room fills will excitement, and for the first time in weeks, nobody is thinking about my brother. Instead, we're thinking about the beautiful baby that will be born in a matter of months. And for the first time in what seems like forever, no one feels sad. In fact, what we feel is almost the exact opposite of sadness.

We feel happy.

And I realize that everything is going to be alright.