Orange Sky

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

You never really think that it will happen to you. Or somebody you know. Or anyone really. You never really think about death or about your parents dying. And you never think that the most popular boy in our school would die. And that you would watch him die. Never would I have thought that. And it haunts me in my dreams and thoughts. Even though it’s been 5 months. Even though I should have gotten over it already because “I don’t really matter in the whole story.” I was just there. I was just watching.

But truth is I feel like I’m a lot more responsible than for just standing there and watching while that wild party went around me. I watched him die. I watched him and did nothing. And yet even though I didn’t do anything, I feel like the killer. I was his last hope. My thoughts are as wild as the wind. Or that’s always what my best friend Amber used to say. Every time we would drive up to the rolling valleys, away from our small town just to see all those stars. They each seemed to be so close that you would touch them yet so far that you wouldn’t be able to ever see them again if you looked away and then back only after a moment. We would make up stories about each star (as lame as that sounds) and mine would always have some kind of adventure. Something about Greek mythology or fighting the super nova’s far away just so they could see how vast out oceans are or how green the meadows bloom. Amber would just laugh, her black hair bouncing and her blue eyes smiling. She was the only one who understood me. She’s been my best friend for, well, forever. We did everything together. Even now. Even though we’re 15 and I’ve tried to push her away, she refuses. “Aurora, you can’t push me out of the picture. I don’t care how much you try I’m still going to be here.” Was what she said when I cried to her over one of our daily late night phone calls, refusing to talk about what happened. I couldn’t even think about the event. I can’t. Even though tomorrow is the 6th month anniversary of Hunter Manx’s death. The 6th time I have to cry myself to sleep (actually I take that back because I cry myself to sleep almost every night). The 6th time I visit his grave at the dead of midnight begging him to forgive me. It’s pathetic but I feel guilty. I am guilty. I’m the idiot who should have saved him.  But I failed.

I always fail.