Falling Behind (Falling Series) Page 14

  Titus was on my left and my mom on my right. I glanced around the church, not really surprised to see it packed. There was standing room only and, from what I could tell, the only standing room left was down the hall by the classrooms or outside.

  Later, I found out the Principal had canceled school so administration and teaching staff, along with students, could attend her funeral. They were all there. Every teacher we’d had, and even ones we didn’t have, were sitting there amongst family and friends in the pews. Pink and white flower arrangements dotted the front of the church and a huge yellow and white spray lay over her casket. My family and Titus’ family had ordered the two blue and gold arrangements, one in the shape of a megaphone and one in the shape of a pom pom. In between the blue and gold arrangements, was her uniform, empty and on display with a few flowers pinned to it. Her picture was blown up and on an easel, near her beautiful casket. It was a closed casket service, and for that I was grateful.

  My tear filled eyes searched the faces of everyone who attended, knowing that Candice would be happy. Knowing she was looking down on today, happy. Until I saw the two of them standing in the very back corner.

  Titus

  Reese looked at peace as she scanned the crowd. Her eyes were filled with tears, but they weren’t falling over, so I left her to her thoughts and just watched. I knew the exact moment I felt a change in her. Her back stiffened. Her jaw clinched and worked back and forth as if she were grinding her teeth together. I didn’t understand what could take away the serenity that had filled her just a moment ago. It was actually the first time she looked content since Winter Formal.

  I followed her line of sight. Two figures stood in the very back corner of the church. They were almost hidden by the open church doors. But from where we sat, we could see them. They were both staring deliberately at us. I found Reese’s hand and squeezed it. It was as if it took everything in her to tear her gaze away to look at me. But I wasn’t taking my eyes off of Alex and Josh.

  “Tell your dad. He’s closest.” I whispered without moving my lips. I didn’t want to scare them off.

  Reese discreetly tapped her dad’s knee, which was a chore in itself, since he was on the other side of her mom. I would have just asked for a messaged to be passed down. But Reese was smart and her dad looked over at us and then followed my gaze quickly to the back and them to the front, again, before slipping out of the pew and heading up to the front to speak to the minister. I had no clue what he was doing, but it was working. The two idiots in the back had started to leave, but when they noticed he wasn’t coming toward them, they scooted further back into the corner.

  Reese pulled her phone out. I’m pretty sure she sent a silent prayer of apology up for pulling her phone out in church, and during her best friend’s funeral, but I can’t be positive. She did close her eyes and lift her chin to the ceiling, before dropping it to stare at her hands and wipe away some fake tears. Man, this girl was good. While she was swiping at the non-tears, she tapped out a message telling her father they had moved further to the corner.

  When I looked up, toward the altar, Phil was gone. I wondered where he went until I heard a small commotion behind us and saw both guys being escorted out by the Sheriff’s Department. Yes, they were already here. With the seriousness of Candice’s death, her parents asked for two officers to be present in case he showed and caused any problems. They still didn’t have enough to arrest Alex, but they could escort him off the premises and Josh, too, for Reese’s sanity.

  The chatter in the church was increasing and the microphone screeching to life didn’t slow it down. The minister stood at the altar, behind the pulpit, ready to begin. “Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life a wonderful young woman, who was taken, too early, from us.

  “Let’s all bow our heads in prayer.” I wiggled my fingers between Reese’s hands, separating them enough to slide my fingers through hers. We bowed our heads and, as Pastor Doug prayed for our friend, I sent up my own prayer. Dear God, please take care of Candice. Guide her into your kingdom and keep her happy and safe. Please help her family heal. I ask that you help Reese and I heal, as well. I wasn’t ready for her to go. She was too young to be taken. Lord, please help us all deal. Amen.

  I wasn’t huge on praying, or on going to church. Since I was here, though, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask the Big Guy for some help. The weeks, months maybe even years ahead were going to be rough. I lifted my head after my prayer and saw one of Candice’s uncle’s up singing a song. Everyone around us was standing, except Reese and me. I pulled on her hand and she jerked her tear streaked face my way. I nodded and she noticed that everyone else was standing.

  I was taken by surprise when Reese released my hand and stood, sliding down the row to get out. Confusion set in and my adrenalin began to pump. I didn’t realize she was speaking, today. I would have helped her prepare—if one could prepare for this type of thing. I heard whispers behind me commenting on her choice of outfit for today. I smiled, knowing why she wore it.

  My chest ached and the breath was stolen from me as we locked eyes and she smiled before opening her mouth to deliver the most heart wrenching story I’d ever heard, in my entire life.

  “C was my best friend, my twin. We knew, from the day our parents threw us into a crib together, that we would be lifelong friends.” She chuckled and swiped a tear. “Well, technically we knew since about second grade. I guess our parents knew long before we did. She was my rock and I was her sensitivity. Together, we were unstoppable.” At that moment, someone in the crowd said something rude and loud about Reese wearing her cheer uniform. To her benefit, she laughed before stating the obvious. “Candice and I made a pact, years ago, when we were forced to wear black to a funeral, that whoever died first, the other would wear anything but black to the funeral. Candice loved cheering. She was amazing at it and my partner in it. We would spend hours putting dances together for the squad. It felt right to wear it, today.”

  “I can’t stand up here much longer without breaking down. So I’ll leave you with this thought. Candice was a beautiful person and friend, inside and out. She lived her life with love and happiness until it was taken from her.” Reese stopped and grabbed a tissue. Gathering her thoughts as she dried her eyes, she took a deep shuttering breath before continuing. “She will forever be in my heart and I hope yours. Candice,” she looked up toward heaven, “I’ll see you in the afterlife, when it’s my time.”

  Clutching the tissue to her face she made her way down toward our pew. I stood, stepping toward her with my hand out. Reese took my hand, squeezing past her parents and fell into my arms. I sat, pulling her down with me. Holding her we tuned out the rest of the service. Not needing to go through the receiving line, I snuck us out the side door of the church and around back, giving her time to recompose.

  The burial went quickly and, before I knew it, we were at the Lion’s Hall celebrating Candice’s life with a slide show and food. Watching Reese push her food around her plate, I asked her if she was ready to go. She nodded her response.

  Mom was sitting with Reese’s parents. I guided us over to them. “We need a break. I’m going to take Reese home for a while, if that’s okay with everyone.” I wasn’t really asking.

  “Go ahead, kids. I’ll explain to Candice’s parents.”

  “Thank you.” Mom handed me her keys and I led Reese out of the hall. We made it to her house and inside before she crumbled. I was ready. She had been so strong all day. Her hiccups and sobs destroyed me.

  “She’s. Really. Gone.” The last word came out as a painful gasp.

  I wrapped her in my arms and we shuffled down the hall toward her room. “I know, shhh, let’s get you changed, so you can lie down.”

  She rubbed her face and inhaled deeply, several times, before blowing out all the frustration. “Ty, I can change myself. Nice try, though.” She flashed me a quick sad smile and a wink.

  I held my hands up, palms out,
in surrender. “Hey, just trying to help out.” I backed away and headed down the hall. I wasn’t trying to do anything with her. I really thought I was going to lose her to the blackness, again. I was trying to bring her out of it and I think it worked.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Titus

  When Reese came back out of her room, she looked relaxed. I also caught something close to mischief gleaming in her denim-blue eyes. I took in the rest of her when she turned her back toward me to and headed into the kitchen. Her normally tight fitting dance shorts hung on her loosely. Don’t get me wrong, they still looked amazing on her. Just big. The tight black tank with the hot pink sports bra underneath was also a little loose. The girl still looked gorgeous. She had gone completely comfortable and even pulled her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head.

  I had to start thinking about baseball again, to distract when she opened the freezer and reached up to the top shelf for the ice cream. The tank lifted, showing two dimples low on her back—just peeking out from the black dance shorts, she’d folded over to make shorter. The curve of skin at the top of her thigh was showing and I knew I’d better think of something else before I went and forced my lips on her.

  A’s, Dodgers, Giants…

  I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax.

  “Are you sleeping?” Reese whispered.

  I cocked an eyebrow and peeked out of one eye. “Uh, no.”

  “Oh, okay. I figured we could do a little reminiscing and celebrating, Candice style.” She held out Rocky Road ice cream, Doritos and the movie Grease in her hands. How she held onto it all, I wasn’t too sure.

  I sat up smiling, relief washing through me. This combination would put a damper on any fire I had brewing. “Sounds perfect. Want me to start the movie?”

  She handed me the DVD. “Sure. I’ll get sodas and spoons.” She shrugged. “I ran out of hands.” Giggling a little, she gasped in surprise before frowning and walking off into the kitchen.

  I knew what was going through her head. The same thing was going through mine. Was it okay to be happy? How could we be acting “normal”, today of all days? Shouldn’t that come later? Somberness fell over us when Reese and I settled on the couch with a blanket and our junk food, ready to watch the old, musical.

  “Do you remember the first time we did this?” Reese’s voice was thick with emotion.

  “Yep. Candice and I had just broken up.” I laughed. Geez, breaking up in fifth grade was way different than breaking up in high school. “Candice wanted to prove that we could still be friends and she wanted to introduce me to you. When I got here, you had these,” I pointed to the snacks on our laps, “ready for us to share and the movie already playing.

  “I swore to myself that night that you two would be my best friends forever, as long as you never made me watch this, again.” I didn’t tell her that my heart skipped several beats when I knocked on her door, that night. My heart still races whenever I head over here. The girl has driven me crazy since day one.

  Giggling, Reese slapped my arm. “You loved it and you know it. Besides, until today, I am pretty sure we didn’t subject you to “Summer Nights”, again.”

  “You’re right; and that is why we’re still friends.” Winking at her, I took a huge spoonful of chocolate and marshmallow and shoved it in my mouth, followed by a handful of cheesy chips. The girls had come up with some straight awesomsauce mixing chocolate and cheesy-corn-chips.

  Reese

  The second stage of grief is guilt and pain. The pain hit me a few days before the funeral, and again, immediately afterward. It was weird. I felt the hole open up, inviting me in. I felt myself floating toward it. Then Titus mentioned getting changed, and the pain eased. He was still with me. I hadn’t lost Titus. Then the guilt started. We started laughing and he playfully winked at me. We shouldn’t have been acting normal. We had just buried our best friend.

  I was torn. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel. Shouldn’t a person be in pain for a really long time and not be able to experience happiness? When is it okay not to be sad and is it all right to feel normal, occasionally? I didn’t know. I needed to talk to mom, tonight. She could help me understand what I am feeling, or not feeling.

  We went back to school the next day. It was strange. Weird. Everyone stared at us, whispering behind our backs. But no one asked a single question. I had a feeling they were instructed not to. I was grateful for such an understanding and caring office staff.

  Mr. Gustin asked that we come directly into his office, first thing.

  “I’m glad to see you both felt ready to come back. We are starting grief counseling, today. Are either of you interested? Or have you already started seeing a counselor?”

  “I’m okay, Mr. Gustin. I’d rather not talk to a school counselor. If I need to talk to someone, I will have my mom make me an appointment.”

  Titus leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.

  “I, uh, I’ll think about it. Thank you, Mr. Gustin.” I wrung my hands in my lap. The whole situation was uncomfortable. After talking to mom last night, I understood that everything I was feeling was normal. I’m not crossing the possibility of talking to someone completely off my list, but right now I think I can manage without a shrink. We’ll see.

  He nodded his head before taking a sip of his coffee. Clearing his throat, he approached another topic. “Your teachers, following Mr. Wait’s lead, have gathered some make-up work and test for the two of you to complete over the next couple weeks. This will give each of you the opportunity to catch up and get the grades you deserve. The grades you would have earned, had circumstances been different.”

  Titus lifted his head. “Do you have those for us?” His feet shifted the weight back and forth bouncing his knees up and down. I could tell he was itching to get out of this office.

  “No, Mr. Wait has everything for you. Stay after class with him and he can go over the details for all the assignments with you.”

  Titus stood. “Anything else?”

  With eyes full of concern, Mr. Gustin shook his head. “Not at this time. You may head back for the rest of first period. Grab a note from the secretary. Titus, Reese…” His eyes shone with unshed tears. “I am truly sorry for your loss. Candice was an amazing young lady. Together, you need to remember her and heal.”

  The lump in my throat threatened to restrict all breathing. I swallowed it down, blinking away the moisture in my eyes. You. Can. Do. This. A week after losing someone isn’t enough time to heal, by any means; but I should have been able to cope, to get through at least one day without having a breakdown or panic attack. I could do this. I. Could.

  “Thank you, Sir.”—

  “Thank you, Mr. Gustin.” Titus and I spoke at the same time. I followed him out of the office, my eyes dry and the lump gone. For now.

  The first three periods were full of curious looks snide comments. More times than I could count on my fingers, I heard what a whore I was and how Candice had taught me everything. My heart ripped into pieces. But Titus was there, finding me in between any class that we didn’t share. He was there to glare at the rude remarks and whisperers. On more than one occasion, our classmates would skitter away, mumbling something about watching or he may bust up their noses, too. They people didn’t give a crap who they bad mouthed, even the dead. They ripped into all three of us, equally

  Then there were some students that couldn’t stop crying and apologizing. Those few almost drove me crazier than the jerks. My stomach was on a roller coaster between nerves, sadness and being royally pissed. I was relieved that I didn’t run into Josh or Alex. I was pretty certain they didn’t come to school, today. Hopefully they’re rotting in a jail cell.

  Titus and I made our way toward our fourth period class early, giving ourselves time to talk to Mr. Wait. Titus opened the door, motioning for me to go in, first. Mr. Wait sat on the corner of his desk, face masked with indifference. I knew bette
r. He cared way too much to be indifferent. He was hurting as much as we were.

  “Good afternoon, guys.” He uncrossed his arms, resting them on his desk.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Wait.” Titus and I said, in unison.

  “You each will have a packet of extra credit work to finish. You will have two weeks to finish these packets. You can turn them into me. Mr. Gustin and I will correct them and give you the credits you will need to finish the year. You are expected to be in all of your classes from now on and do your work. The packets will only make up what you’ve missed, to date. Now then, if there is anything you need, or if you need would like to speak with someone who is not a grief counselor, you can always come to me. I have already received permission from your parents and the School Board to talk to with either or both of you, whenever you’re ready.”

  Titus and I looked at each other. I’m sure my face mirrored. I knew he was a caring teacher, just like Mr. Gustin. Both of them took the three of us under their wing from the first day freshman year. I asked Mr. Waitabout it one time. He told me, “You’re a good student. You have a positive attitude, and a lot of school spirit. You represent Laton High, well. Any student that holds themselves to the standards you do, is worth my time and attention.” Mr. Wait just started teaching at Laton this year, and he and I clicked from the start. There are just some teachers that students have better relationships with than others. Oh, kids talked, but it was respectful and never once crossed any boundaries.