Dead & Gone (DARAGON)

The cheese stands alone ~

They buried me two days after my school memorial. You know that sick feeling you get when Saturday and Sunday—those perfect, blissful, totally magical two days of freedom—are just about to end? Right around the time the big 60 Minutes clock starts doing its torturous tickticktickticktickticktick, and you realize you haven't even started your homework yet?

This was just like that, only about fifty thousand times worse.
I'm talking the ultimate Sunday Night Blues.

Mom asked Sadie to pick out my favorite dress and shoes for the big occasion, since she'd basically been my stylist from second grade on anyway.
The dress was a deep lilac and made of the softest, flowiest fabric. It had a hidden pocket on each side and a simple ribbon that tied in the back. The shoes
were ballet flats in basic black, but I loved them because they sparkled in the sunlight. (Uh, not that they'd be doing a whole lot of sparkling where I was going.)

They decided to leave my hair down, spread out around my face. (Very Ophelia.) I'd nearly chopped it off over the summer, but seeing myself all laid out like that, I was glad I hadn't. Last but not least, the girls asked my mom and dad to bury me wearing my heart-shaped gold charm necklace—one of four we had all bought together at this cute little store in San Francisco called Rabbit Hole,the summer before high school.

I remembered the day so vividly.

The four of us had been discussing the results of our very official and important Which Disney Princess Are You? quiz,
marveling over how Scientifically Exact the results had turned out to be.

Exhibit A:  Sadie was so obviously Princess Jasmine. She was both gorgeous and exotic (her mom was Israeli, plus a former model on top of that), and she could belt out "A Whole New World" like nobody's business.

Exhibit B:  Emma turned out to be Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, which made perfect sense, since she was a) blond,
b) a serious nap-aholic, and c) so genuinely sweet that birds, like, actually started to
chirp wherever she went.

Exhibit C: Tess got Ariel, which couldn't have been more perfect, given
her long red hair and absolute obsession with the only kid in our class named
Eric. Not to mention, she even had a pet hermit crab in elementary school. Does it even get more Ariel than that?
(Answer: I don't think so.)
And then there was me.

Exhibit D: Belle.

Exactly zero percent surprising, since I'd been into guys with big, fluffy hair ever since Big Bird had come into my
life back in the preschool days. Also, I was a major bookworm, and had been planning a pre-college European
backpacking trip for the four of us ever since we graduated middle school.

I mean, come on. There so has to be
more than this provincial life.

Once we'd each had a chance to belt out our respective Disney solos, the girls and I stumbled across Rabbit Hole, a
literal hole-in-the-wall shop smack in the center of the Mission District that carried all sorts of knickknacks and
vintage clothing, like lace gloves, old straw hats, antique jewelry, and porcelain teapots. Things you'd probably never go looking for, but
definitely couldn't leave behind once you saw them.

Things like our necklaces.

Our chains were all pretty similar—delicate gold, not too long, not too short—but each of us had a different charm.
Emma's was a hummingbird (see above, chirping birds), Tess's was a mermaid (you want thingamabobs? she's got twenty!), and Sadie's was a simple gold
star. Her big dream was to go to Juilliard and become a famous actress, and I had a feeling she would probably get there too. She was just one of those
people who made you feel incredible by knowing her. With Sadie, everything was bright and everything was easy. I loved Emma and Tess like sisters, but
my connection with Sadie was just one of those things you can't describe. She was so much more than a best friend or a sister. She was like my soul mate.

My charm, in the meantime, was a small golden heart, because I was by far the
biggest, cheesiest, sappiest romantic out of all of us—the one who believed that
everyone would find their perfect someone, no matter what.

I couldn't wait for my happy ending.
(Oh, twisted irony.)

And in the end, I was really, really glad to have my necklace with me. It
reminded me of my friends and of being home. It was comforting and made me
feel safe. Especially when they closed my casket.

". . . earth to earth . . ."

Wait.

". . . ashes to ashes . . ."

Please.

". . . dust to dust . . ."

No, please, stop.

". . . give her peace . . ."

Good-bye, rosy glow of the PCH auditorium. Good-bye, twinkling lights.
Good-bye house, good-bye breathing, good-bye touching and feeling and
hugging and living.

This was lights off. This was lights out.

Suddenly, I was scared.

Then the crowd parted and Jack made his way to the front.
He tugged on the minister's coat. "Can I talk?"

The man nodded. Funny to have some
guy I'd never met sending me off into the
oblivion.

Jack faced the crowd of friends and family members; their sunglasses on,
their tissues everywhere, their shoes sinking into the sandy earth. Compared
to them, Jack looked so small. A little man in a little suit. I wanted to go to him.
Throw him over my shoulder piggybackstyle and run all the way home.

He started to cry. Dad rushed up and helped him through the speech he'd
written for me, titled "Dear Cheddar." (Just one of many cheese-themed
nicknames I'd acquired over the years.)

I took one last look. Mom, Dad, and Jack. Three ducks all in a row.
Three ducks where there should have been four.

I looked down.

This is really happening.

A girl-sized hole where I used to be. A girl-sized hole where there used to be life.
A girl-sized hole in the hollow, quiet ground.

Oh god.

I really, really, really didn't want to go
in there.

But in I went.