White Roses and Black Coffee

We were sitting in the library when everything went wrong.

Someone shouted and then a gun began firing. Cicely had pulled me under the table as everyone started running. It had been a boy from my AP Chem class that had done it. He picked off five of the runners before turning to Cicely and I. Cicely had frozen for half a second before she was pushing me toward the book cases and we were running.

Two shots rang out.

Pain seized my shoulder and stars exploded behind my eyelids but I made it to the first row of bookcases. I turned to pull Cicely in behind me but he wasn't there anymore.

She was lying on the floor halfway between the study tables and I. A bullet hole gaped between her eyes.

I'd screamed.

Before the boy-no, monster- could shoot me again swat had him on the ground with a gun to the back of his head.

He was smiling as they brought him out of the school.

"Shit," I hissed.

Bandages circled my chest and shoulder and my dress shirt buttoned too tightly over them, causing a bright red stain to spread down slowly.

Cicely's funeral was today.

I wrapped another thin layer of gauze over the existing bandages to hide the blood and buttoned my shirt. My mom had a mirror in her room, and I studied myself in it.

Dark bags circled my eyes, the baggy black shirt and skirt my mom had lent me making them ever the more prominent. Cicely would be pissed I didn't dress up.

That thought alone almost made me collapse.

I gripped the edge of my dresser and let one tear slip down my cheek before I straightened. She would have been pissed if I'd cried too.

My mom was waiting by the door when I came into the foyer. She silently brought me in for a long hug before squeezing my shoulder and walking me to my car.

Here goes nothing.

I parked my car in front of the church. Several of Cicely's many family members were filing I through the front doors and Mr. and Mrs. Pierce were greeting them with hugs and silent acknowledgements.

I waited till everyone was inside before stepping from my car and jogging to the doors. No one noticed me as I sat down in the last row of pews. A few minutes later the pastor stood to address everyone.

"We are all here today to mark the passing of a dear family member, friend..."

I zoned out as this stranger continued to talk about Cicely as if he knew her. I knew I was being childish but I sincerely wished it was a family member who delivered the sermon. I studied everyone in the pews in front of me and sighed when I realized that it was all Cicely's family.

No one from school showed up.

Nickolas Pierce slipped in just as the sermon ended, his suit ruffled and his hair messed.

Mrs. Pierce darted to him after the pastor dismissed us and proceeded to pound her fists into his broad chest, screeching at him for not being here. Mr. Pierce restrained her and lead her away after a quick, distracted greeting in Nick's direction.

He looked after them sadly and ran a hand through his already messed hair. I didn't realize I'd been staring until he turned to face me. Nick walked quietly to where I was standing and silently pulled me in for a hug.

I hadn't really cried since that day, but now nothing held back the tears as they poured down my cheeks. Nick didn't say anything, just held my hands to his chest and let me cry. When I was done he pulled away and gently lead me to the line of cars waiting to drive to the graveyard.

The drive was spent in comfortable silence, despite the fact that I hadn't seen Nickolas in at least a year. He's three years older than us, a sophomore in college. The last time I'd seen him was at Cicely's seventeenth.

She'd be eighteen as of tomorrow.

Nick looked older now, taller. His hair had grown longer, curling down to cover his eyes. Dark circles rimmed his green eyes and I couldn't help but notice that he'd gotten a tattoo on his right hand, the word 'Leo.'

Cicely's star sign.

Nick had loved her a lot, always playing the role of extremely protective older brother. They'd always been close, especially after their uncle passed away. He'd always been the one to drive us to the movies on weekends or take us out on the last day of school. When he left for college it was really hard on Cicely,who moped for a week and half, mourning his absence.

Now we were mourning her death.

Nickolas parked behind a long line of other vehicles, from which many darkly-clad figures were exiting. I took a deep breath to steel myself and followed him to the gravesite.

Mrs. Pierce pulled me in beside her and Nick stood directly behind me with a comforting hand on my shoulder. I watched silently as another weary sermon was delivered. A sob threatened to escape as they began lowering her casket. Mrs. Pierce held herself together until it was time to throw dirt, and then she sobbed and screamed loudly. Nobody was surprised, and most moved to comfort her.

I moved away.