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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ PUTTING THE 'FUN' IN FUNERAL
THERE HAD BEEN a lot of funerals to attend the past few weeks. Thanks to Chrissy, Nancy and Jonathan, Barb finally got her justice (at least, in the eyes of the public) and was able to have a memorial service that Rosie was at with her family. Even though she didn't know Barbara Holland personally, she was much closer with Chrissy, anyways, Rosie was still teary-eyed as she squeezed Chrissy's hand as they gathered around her grave. Then, there was Bob's, where she was yet again a pillar of support for everyone there. She had wrapped an arm around Mike, trying to keep a steady face as she heard Joyce's emotional speech. She had done phenomenally well, all things considered, and the reception managed to make a few of them smile.
Yet another funeral was upon them, and by them, I mean Rosie and Dustin.
Rosie and Dustin sat out in the backyard of his home, a cardboard headstone reading 'MEWS, 1980-1984'. Dustin had gracefully kept his word when it came to the memorial, and Rosie had used some of her babysitting money to purchase a bouquet of yellow flowers that she placed on the makeshift cat grave.
"She was a good cat," Rosie murmured, hands absently picking at the grass beneath her.
"She was," Dustin affirmed, glancing over at the cat-babysitter fondly, "Mom was talking about getting another one."
The brunette's eyes brightened considerably, "Really?"
Dustin hummed a yes, "And since you're the most trusted cat-babysitter around...?"
"I'd love to babysit your new cat, dude!" Rosie slung an arm around his shoulders, ruffling his curls, "Name it Rosie for me?"
"Absolutely not."
She laughed, for the first time in what felt like forever, "After all I've done for you."
Dustin bumped her shoulder slightly, "Well... Steve and I were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the Snow Ball. He's picking me up and dropping me off, and there's extra room in his car... I mean, you don't have to—!"
"I'd love to, and thank you for asking, but my Dad agreed to drop me off, and since he doesn't really get much time off anymore—"
"It's cool, tubular."
"Let's not start that again," Rosie scoffed light-heartedly, rolling her eyes, "Sooo, d'you have a date?"
The curly-haired boy seemed to deflate slightly, "Nope. I was gonna ask someone, but I think she likes someone else."
Rosie smiled empathetically, "Well, I'm sure she's missing out. I can be your date— platonic of course."
