[Completed] Ranked #1!
Ariana Grayson is young, beautiful, popular...and dead. Her best friend, Everly Clarke, is devastated and broken. She has never had to live without Ariana, relying on her as a crutch to hide her crippling anxiety. After meetin...
Ariana Grayson looked beautiful in a black dress that hit just below the knee. The short cap sleeves attached to a tight bodice and its thin black belt was looped around her tiny waist. The full skirt of the dress was made for twirling. It had multiple layers that begged to be taken for a spin or two. She had only worn this dress once before - last year to her cousin's wedding that her mom told her was "a black tie affair". She figured that was her mom's way of saying she'd have to wear a formal dress.
Today Ariana wore the dress for the second - and last - time. She wore the dress to her own funeral.
She hates that dress, I thought as soon as I saw her.
I took a seat on a hard wooden bench two rows behind Ariana's parents. They were both attempting to get one of the twins to sit still, and so far, neither was successful. My shoes were tight and causing blisters on the back of my ankles. I slipped them off and let them land quietly on the carpeted floor, and then kicked them under the pew in front of me. So long, suckers.
The room smelled of roses and a mix of multiple perfumes that made me want to gag.
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People entered the room in small groups dressed in all black, like shadows of invisible people. It was quiet except for whispered condolences that I could still hear clearly, even from all the way up towards the front. Sound traveled so strangely in places like this, I thought.
So young. How terrible!
Look at her parents - oh! So sad!
I can't even imagine what they're going through. I wouldn't be able to go on!
I sat stiffly and stared straight ahead.
Shut up! I wanted to scream. More people continued to trickle in and I could hear the screeching sound of people sliding down to make room for them to sit. Minutes later, students from my high school began arriving and I actually looked up at the ceiling, mocking God and wondering how this could get any worse. The front parking lot looked like people were showing up for an awards show. Each girl seemed to out-dress the last. And the theatrics! Don't get me started. Girls were literally sobbing into the arms of teenage boys who looked uncomfortable in their dress slacks.
Fancy pants! Ariana would have called them. I chuckled at the thought and my mom shot me a look. My smile faded and I just shrugged and looked into my lap.
Three cheerleaders walked into a funeral.
It sounded like the beginning of joke, yet there was nothing funny about it. They were literally hanging onto each other as if attached by their bony hips. They all wore oversized black sunglasses that made them look like three insects. Or the Three Blind Mice. When they saw the casket, I heard the girl in the middle groan loudly. The other two girls wrapped their arms around her tighter. Taking a seat on one of the rows in the back, all three slid in almost in total unison.
