Remember Me

Chapter One: The Funeral

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I took a deep breath, and clutched the bouquet of white lilies tight in my hand. I could feel my palms sweating horribly, yet we'd not even arrived at the chapel yet.

Today was the day. It had only been a week since Jordan had died, yet it seemed to have dragged on for centuries.

School had been torture. Newspaper reporters came to visit the school, wanting to talk to me, as I'd been her best friend. But pushy obnoxious writers just reminded me of Jordan, and it upset me.

I simply cried when they asked me anything- no, not cried, that's too weak a word. I was sobbing, bawling my eyes out, and they'd gotten a picture of me. Eyes red, nose running, mouth open wide and screaming; and printed it in black and white, for our entire town to see. JORDAN ASHWORTH'S BEST FRIEND, TANYA WHITE, TOO DISTRAUGHT FOR WORDS.

Before Jordan's death, I'd have gone mental at the idea of them printing such a disgusting picture of me. But since then, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Mum glanced at me in the mirror she'd been applying her lipstick in. "Tanya! You look so pale, have you been sleeping?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Mum, my best friend just died a week ago, but of course, I've been sleeping like a baby, thanks for asking."

"Don't take that tone with me! It was never normal, how close you and Jordan were, anyway, one of you was bound to get hurt in the end. Plus those lilies cost us a fortune, why couldn't Jordan's favourites have been roses?" She went on and on at me, until Dad steered the wrong way, and then she turned and shouted at him for not driving carefully and nearly smudging her lipstick.

A lot of the time I really couldn't stand my mother.

Dad rolled his eyes, also yawning. When he wasn't working away, he was on night shifts, so I hardly ever saw him anymore; but he'd made a special appearance for Jordan's funeral. He was always a little too fond of her.

My eleven year old brother, Sam, was next to me, complaining about the lack of wifi and the fact he'd had to wear a tie. "Jordan wasn't my friend!" He persisted, letting out a sigh. "Why do I have to go to the dumb funeral..."

"Just shut up," my older brother, Dylan, mumbled, running a hand through his overly gelled hair. He was eighteen and taking a break from college. But to be honest, he hardly went when he had to, either.

I'd known Jordan since I was five, but considering Dylan was three years older than us, he'd always been too 'cool' to bother with us, not that we cared. That is, until Jordan hit puberty. Then months of gawping and drooling consisted in my brother Dylan's schedule.

Jordan and Dylan even dated for a short while when she was fourteen, but that only lasted a month. Jordan broke up with him because he 'reminded her too much of me'. Dylan resented me after that, but Jordan told me she had lied. It was really because of how gross his hair felt when they made out.

"We're here!" Mum announced, assembling us all into order, and leading us into the old chapel as Dad went to park the car. It was a beautiful building, made up of ornate black and white marble swirls, but I hardly took it in.

That was when I saw the coffin, and lurched. I'd stopped vomiting in the past couple of days, most likely because I hadn't eaten enough food to lactate up. But now, I could feel something coming up, whatever it was.

Mum frowned at me. "Tanya! Stop showing us up. My God, you look like a ghost, are you sure you should be here?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, because I so needed to be here, but even the vague word ghost made me feel like retching again.