Lola

1

Dani

I don't wear black. I don't wear lace-up boots. I most definitely will never dye my hair. Why? Because those things belong to Lola.

If you asked anybody else, they would say they belonged to her, but I don't believe in using past tense to refer to the dead. Dead Lola is still Lola, and I know for a fact that Dead Lola was buried in her favourite black jeans and boots with her hair the same flaming shade of magenta it was the day before she died. Her clothes are still hers. Her mannerisms are still hers. Her friends are still hers. I say friends, but I mean friend. Me.

The day feels eerily wrong for a funeral. I get ready in front of the mirror as usual, and the sunlight streams in through my blinds. A pleasant breeze swishes my hair in gentle waves and I watch the trees jostling softly as I drive to the church. A favourite sonata of mine sings through the crackling radio. And when I step out of my car, I am greeted not by the usual sombre elderly crowd that lurk around churches for funerals, but by a vibrant flock of youth. The harsh difference hangs in the air uneasily.

"Dani," I hear my mother's voice behind me. "Are you sure you don't what to sit with me and Dad?"

I tell her I don't. I drove separately and I will sit separately. Lola wasn't a family friend - she was my friend. And I will say goodbye her as her friend. I attempt to smile reassuringly at the many faces from my senior class. Some smile back appreciatively, but some turn away with distrust. My cohort will never be the same after the loss of one of its queens. Now only two of the trio remain. Myself, and the owner of the strawberry blonde ponytail I see flicking in the distance. I take longer strides to catch up. "Caitlyn!"

She turns and I am relieved that she doesn't look too distressed. "Hey," she says casually.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine. These things happen and we just have to move on, you know?"

"Well, eventually I suppose. I think the moving on part kind of takes a while."

A sigh escapes her matte wine lips. "Dani, I'm as sad as you are. But you know everyone at school will be distraught after losing one of the girls they looked up to. The best we can do is keep on running the school like it never happened. There's plenty of girls who'd be dying for a spot at our table - we'll find a new associate."

Caitlyn has been acting frustratingly blasé since Lola's death and I can feel my anger bubbling inside me. "Lola wasn't my associate. She was yours. I was her friend."

"Dani, you're being ridiculous. Three is a magic number, it took three powerful women, not childhood besties, to rise up how we did. Please don't keep up these fantasies that she was anything more than one of us - the three school queens who worked together to stay on top."

Caitlyn is a master of the 'tough bitch' persona. I imagine she's breaking down on the inside, and I can't bring myself to upset her further. "Why don't we just head inside?"

The faces from school glance at us as we walk together. Do they think we should look more upset? Comfort each other and cry? My relationship with Caitlyn has never allowed any of that. That was Lola and I. Lola and I who banded together under Caitlyn's reign. Now, it may just have to be Caitlyn and I.

~~~

Cam

Lola became my friend in the most unusual way I could have imagined. Now, she's left me in an even more bizarre fashion.

I was always aware of Lola as everyone else in the school was. We had three monarchs - Lola was the tough, gothic princess. She had natural spunk and wit, and her razor sharp tongue acted like the venomous fangs of a snake. She was my favourite. Beside her in the trio was Dani - smart, demure and modest. A tall, limber brunette with perfectly gentle curves. Dani was often seen carrying sheet music around, like she was vigilantly ready for a piano to appear at any minute. She lacked personality in the way that everything to escape her mouth seemed filtered, honey-coated and too perfect to be real. But Lola liked her - she swore she did.