black tide. | ✓

0.3; grave

"as i'm standing over your grave." - missing you, 1st lady.

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The first time I visited Allison's grave was on the Saturday after her funeral.

Allison always loved Saturday's, they were her favourite day of the week. She said there was something about waking up late, knowing that there was no school that day, or the next, and she just had this thing about soaking up life, and not letting school get in the way of it. Ironic, really, how she was all about making the most of life, when in the end she finished hers before it had even begun.

When I reached the stone tomb with her name engraved on it in cursive, I just stood there for a while, letting the cold January air nip at my fingertips and admiring the cards littering the floor beside it and the masses of flowers along with various other different gifts. In a few months they would all rot, and the gifts would be forgotten;

Allison would never see them. So what's the point?

I couldn't think of what to do, what to say, so in the end, I just talked as if Ali was still here, and did what we always used to do. Gossip.

"Stacey got a boob job. Everyone thinks it's because Brad was getting bored of her or something, so she did it to keep him interested." I started off, deciding to sit crisscross on the damp grass. I'd missed sharing the latest news of our high school, so even saying it to a rock was slightly comforting. It was as if she was still here. "And there was a drug search the other day; they found weed in Lola's locker, so her parents are shipping her off to boarding school in England."

Lola Evans was the Queen Bee of our high school, the epitome of the cliché perfect golden girl. Head cheerleader, rich parents, complete daddy's girl, oh and let's not forget, dating Aiden Browne, Ali's brother and quarterback, the epitome of the cliché perfect golden boy.

But would a cliché bitch be without a cliché hater? In comes me - awkward little Charlie, proud geek (some might say, I prefer to say that I enjoy adventures of a literary nature, but whatever) and proud enemy of Lola Evans.

And I could not be any happier that she was leaving, hopefully for good. Every time something came out of her mouth, it made me weep for her offspring, truly, who would have to live with the lack of brain cells she would pass down.

"All of her minions are worried about the breakup of Laiden, but I reckon their relationship was faker than Stacey's boobs. They were just going out because they were expected to, you know? It's in the popular book - head cheerleader and quarterback must date, or something -"

"We weren't dating."

My head whipped round at the sound of another voice behind me, and I was truly shocked to see the Aiden Browne standing there, looking at me with a bemused expression. The Aiden Browne, who always ignored us when I was round his house with Allison, despite the fact that we used to be closer than anything. "What?"

"You're right, me and Lola weren't dating. Yeh, we hooked up once or twice, well most of the time, but we weren't dating." He told me. He sat down next to me, also deciding to cross his legs underneath him, and sighed longingly, leaving behind a trail of cold air in front of his chapped lips.

That made me smile to myself, for some weird reason, but at the same time reminded me of how Ali used to do that constantly in the winter, pretending she was a dragon, and it made me miss her more, if that was even possible. As tears threatened to spill onto my cheeks, I looked away and focused on a point in the distance to avoid making eye contact with Aiden, trying my best to not show him how weak I was. By talking to her I was avoiding the truth that I missed her with everything I had, because I knew saying how much I missed her would inevitably lead to me lying in a sobbing mess on the floor.