What Remains of Elizabeth Clove | COMPLETED & IN EDITING

Chapter 1

Boxes.

Her room was filled with boxes. Most of them had labels reading words like, 'Clothes", or 'Books', or something along the lines of a cliche title for a box. This wasn't her room, at least not the way I had seen it.

Liz's mom pointed to her empty bed as she stood in the doorway next to me, holding another cliche titled box in her hands.

    "That one is for you. It's her school and personal items." She adjusted her grip on the cardboard. "We figured you should go through it first, you know, just in case there were any photos or things you wanted to remember Liz by." She sighed and patted my shoulder lightly. "Stay Strong Max." Saying nothing, I nodded and walked slowly towards the bed, memories flying past my eyes. I could almost hear her laughing on the bed next to me as I sat next to the box that held whatever remained of our friendship.

UPDATE: The bed wasn't as comfy as I remembered it being.

I set the somewhat small box, (which had been dubbed, 'personal') onto my lap, the pieces of our friendship rattling on the bottom. At the top, I could clearly see the picture of Liz and I at the winter dance last year. I had worn a black dress and she white. Yes, we had everything planned out. Smiling through the tears, I set down the photo next to me. I'd save it, cherish it, even though in a few years we'd probably forget about Elizabeth Clove.

It's funny that when you die you always get forgotten. The people around you promise that they'll always keep you in their hearts and in their minds, but they always just,

f o r g e t.

There were old stuffed toys won from carnivals and fairs past sitting in the corners, which I placed beside me. I wouldn't keep all six of them, maybe just one or two. A half empty bottle of black nail polish that Liz had forgot to give back to me laid on its side, along with a CD full of early 2000's hits. We had called it "The Liz and Max Mixtape", which was creative when we were ten, I guess. As I moved through the photos and various items of our memory lane, I quickly had one item left on the bottom. A small, black notebook, complete with her name etched on the cover in silver Sharpie.

Now this was something I had never seen before. Since when did Liz keep a diary? Turning it over in my hands, I set it down in my pile of friendship, and picked it up, making my way downstairs to the Clove's front door. Thanking her parents, and declining some cookies (Mrs. Clove always hid raisins in them), I threw on my headphones, drowning out the rest of the world.

Of course when I shuffled the first song to play was our song, House of Memories, by Panic! At the Disco. It's a long and complicated story. I'll get to it later.

With the box full of Liz in the backseat, I drove towards home.

Not the word I'd use to describe it, but I don't know what else to call it but that.

I went straight towards my room, not bothering to answer to my screaming mother. As far as I was concerned, that notebook needed to be read, it was the only thing that mattered. I desperately wanted to dissect the secrets that that black book contained.

Does that make me a bad friend?

There it was, sitting at the very top. Scrambling as I reached for it, I nearly dropped it as I opened the cover.

And then I started reading.

Hello, all who dare read this. If you're reading this because you're snooping, leave, or face my wrath. If you're reading this because something happened to me, or you're Maxine Rudd or Cameron Guchal, then my plan worked.

"Plan?!" My thoughts became speech. Liz had died in a freak biking accident. She hadn't killed herself as far as I knew. We still hadn't found her body, but that didn't mean anything, did it?

If you're reading this, Max, Cam, or some random snooper, then I'm about to tell you why I did what I did.

"What did you do Liz...?" I muttered to myself, flipping to the next page, and some answers. '

There are rules to reading this journal though, so listen up. Feel free to write these rules down or refer back to this page if you'd like. I only feel like writing these down once.

Rule #1: You tell no one about this journal, unless your name was mentioned in the beginning. Looking at you Max and Cam.

Rule #2: If the book tells you to do something or go somewhere, you go there, and you do that thing.

Rule #3: Make sure whatever secrets that are held within this journal DO NOT get out into the public. This is my private shit.

Rule #4: You obey ALL journal rules. ALL of them. No exceptions. No ifs, ands or buts.

These rules being said, read on, you deserve to know the truth. What is the truth? Well, you'll find that out later. Now onto the intro.

"Maxine!" My mom burst into my room, a wooden spoon from making dinner still in her hand. "How many times do I have to tell you?! Come to the table when you're called!"

My mom hadn't really grasped the whole grief concept. The way she had seen it, Liz had just died. I was the only person who had lost someone important, and let's face it, she didn't really care about me or my feelings. All that mattered was work, work, work, my father, and my brother Jeremy.

Personally, I think she hated Liz, secretly.

In the weeks leading up to the accident, there was always a sense of coldness in the air around them whenever they crossed paths. Most of the time it was extremely awkward.

I picked at my green beans in front of me, not really in the mood to eat at the current moment.

    "Max?" My father said, looking at me. "How was your trip to the Clove's today? He said that like nothing was wrong, like I hadn't gone to collect my things from my dead best friend's house. "It was fine." I vaguely answered. "Got some old photos and things." My mother nodded. "Everly holding up fine?"

Everly was Liz's younger sister.

"She wasn't there." I mumbled. Having enough, I suddenly said, "Can I be excused?" I had had enough 'quality' time with my family. Mumbles of an answer were heard, so I took that as a yes.

Back to the notebook.

Back to Liz's secrets.

•••

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