School the next day was silent. Nobody spoke, because everyone had heard. I walked into class with my head down and several kids nodded at me, as if to acknowledge that she had been my close friend. I went through the day on autopilot, blank and emotionless. It's better, sometimes, to act as if everything is fine. It helps you get through the day.
I had cried, of course. I had spent last night crying. But I guess I was still in shock. One second she had been running, full of life, and then she was lying still and I still don't even know exactly what happened in between. That whole night was a blur.
Gemma hadn't come to school. I passed Lacie walking in in the morning, wearing sunglasses to hide her red eyes. I could tell she had been drinking. Alex walked past me with her hoodie on, head down and earbuds in, a look of hard anger on her face. Some people dissolved and broke down when bad things happened; Alex hardened. I guess you can tell a lot about a person from whether they turn their anger and sadness into themselves or outward to the world when they break.
Even the teachers were silent that day. Teachers had always liked Elle. There was something different about her. She had somehow managed to make it to sixteen without turning bad and angry and violent, unlike so many of the kids here. She was innocent.
Because really, innocence isn't what you have and haven't done. Innocence is about being exposed to all these things--alcohol and fights and drugs and gangs--and still staying sweet and young. Elle had lived innocent and died violent. It didn't make sense. I had always thought that if one of us were to ever die in a fight, it would be Lacie or Alex. Never Elle. I guess it was Danny's sick way of finishing what he had started with Elle in that back alley a year ago.
****
The funeral was the next week. I sat in a pew at the back of the church in a black dress I had borrowed from my mother and grey ballet flats that were too small, next to Gemma, Lacie, and Alex.
The whole thing was terrible. I didn't bother trying to hide the fact that I was crying. I had always tried to be strong before, because I'm the oldest, but in that moment I didn't care. I cried because I needed to cry.
Afterwards, we went out to the cemetery behind the church, to the grave that had already been dug. We stood near the grave, the four of us. I saw Elle's parents and her you get sister standing close by and almost went over and said something, but every sentence I planned in my head sounded stupid and meaningless. I stayed quiet.
The whole time, I didn't focus on the casket or the grave or the priest of anything. I looked up at the pale blue sky, and the trees, and felt the wind against my face.
"I need to get out of here." I heard Alex's voice saying above the wind. When I snapped back to earth and looked around, people were walking away, the grave was covered up, and Gemma and Lacie stood next to me staring at the headstone.
"I need to go to the bathroom." I murmured, and started walking quickly back to the church. I pushed through the large doors and went to the back, slipping through the woman's bathroom door and going into a stall.
I stood silently against the door and focused on breathing in and out slowly.
Elle was buried. She was gone. This was real. I was at her funeral and she was gone for good and there was nothing I could do about it.
I took a final breathe in and opened the metal latch on the stall door, stepping back into the church bathroom.
Alex stood at the row of sinks. She was staring into the mirror and her hands were clenching either side of the sink.
"Hi." I said, walking to the sink next to her. I stared into the mirror, at my face, at my short, dark hair and freckles and dark brown eyes, my long neck and dark eyebrows and the dark circles that had formed under my eyes and no amount of concealer would ever cover. Then I looked over at Alex, at her white face and icy blue eyes, blonde hair and eyeliner.
"This isn't over, you know." She said finally.
I was quiet for a minute. "You're not talking about still fighting, are you?"
"Maybe I am."
She lifted her arms to fix her hair and her leather jacket lifted up. I saw a glint of metal and a shiny, black square object.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's nothing." She put her arms down and shook her head.
I grabbed her jacket by the zipper and grabbed it.
Our eyes locked as I held it in my hand, a small black heater. I turned the gun over in my hands. "Where did you get this?"
"It's Tom's. I'm carrying it for protection. Give it back."
I hesitated for a second before handing it back to her. She tucked it back into her jacket and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Is it loaded?" I asked.
"What do you think?"
"Alex, you can't just..."
"Listen, Christina." She snapped. "They killed one of us. They won't hesitate to do it again. You think I'm going to walk around unprotected, just waiting for them to get me? I had to do something."
