Somewhere in between

It's like the sun came out

Ámbar Smith had always been popular. She'd always been the one to lead, to preside over everyone else. At school and the rink she had been the queen, unrivaled and envied, the one everyone wanted to be or be with, the one everyone talked about.

This hasn't changed one bit; her name is still the one on everyone's lips, just for a different reason. They no longer talk about her beauty or her talent, they talk about her body being lowered six feet underground.

Her funeral is filled to the brim with people she has never spoken a word to (she doesn't count the times she told some of them to get out of her way or step back). There are people from the Blake, skaters and admirers from the Jam and Roller, business people and socialites, even some of her old classmates from Uni at École de Management de la Sorbonne. This might be the most attended event about herself ever, not counting her graduation or competitions, because those weren't about only her, sadly.

The funeral is very formal, the only person speaking is Rey, her godmother's assistant, and only to direct the agenda. Otherwise, no one else says a word that isn't murmured, there's no speech about her achievements or the impact she had in anyone's life, nothing. Just Rey's monotone voice. She guesses it is not because no one wanted to give a speech, she's sure both Delfi and Jazmín would have been honored if given the task, but Sharon Benson clearly planned it all and she isn't very sentimental. In fact, she hasn't shed a single tear.

Delfi and Jazmin are completely on the other side of the spectrum: they hold each other while they sob, Delfi gently rubbing her friend's back in support as Jazmín leans against her. They both look emotionally wrecked, but Ámbar is proud to see that it doesn't stop them from holding their heads high and looking their best.

The only person she can't see among the crowd is Matteo, her boyfriend... or former boyfriend, she thinks; being dead is weird. She had been arguing with him on the phone when she crashed her Maserati into a tree and fractured her cranium. She remembers being alive and in pain for a while when the paramedics came and then, nothing. She had felt light, like a floating feather. No more pain, no more suffering, just a weird sense of calm.

The Italian probably feels guilty, but now at least, she can recognize it had been her fault. She had been the one to call him while driving and to initiate their fight. Mateo had told her the day before that he thought they should take a break, but she was having none of it and called him to tell him to go screw himself and rethink before he did something he might regret. Now he's probably blaming himself for her death and hitting every bar he can find, the poor thing. She would feel sorry for him if she wasn't busy enough feeling completely livid at the universe.

It feels like the worst cosmic prank ever pulled, having to watch her own funeral from the sidelines. She tried running away, but she couldn't go past the cemetery's gate as if there was a force pulling her back to where her body now rests, not letting her part from it.

She tried screaming and calling someone's attention, but no one seems to see or hear her, and when she tried to touch her godmother's shoulder, her hand went straight through the woman's body.

So she died and became a ghost. That's just great.

The funeral ends and most of the people leave as soon as they can. Only Delfi, Jazmin and Gastón stay, looking down at the spot where her body is buried with tearful eyes and grim expressions. Even her godmother left in a hurry, leaving her friends alone with her dead self. Jazmín breaks down in sobs, for the first time ever not seeming to care about dirt on her dress as she kneels on the ground. Delfi lowers herself and hugs her close, Gastón rubbing their shoulders absently, his expression vacant.