A group of friends tries to piece itself back together after losing its glue.
*****
It's a quiet October morning in Palo Alto, California, when the news break out--June Beaumont was...
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SOFIA
There was no oxygen left in my lungs.
Meridian's eyes darted between me, my copy of Fahrenheit 451, and the piece of paper I had dropped onto my bedroom floor, but never once did he remove the arm he kept wrapped around me. It was the only thing preventing me from falling to my knees, from praying I would get swallowed by the ground beneath me.
I was not lying underground.
June was.
See you in San Francisco.
I had no idea what that message meant. Even though the rest of the texts June had sent everyone else were cryptic as well, they were the slightest bit understandable. For example, Grace's text, the one that said it wasn't personal, was clearly June's way of apologizing for stealing Grace's bicycle in the middle of the night and using it to get to the motel where she would end up dying in.
The one Xena had gotten was a little bit more confusing, but I supposed I understood. She was under constant pressure from both her mothers to be whoever they wanted her to be, to do whatever they wanted her to do, and she knew nothing but that. Even though she tried to make a name for herself outside of her family, there was always that looming threat of living in their shadows.
The main difference was that June loved ballet. She loved, lived, and breathed ballet, not to mention she'd had a good shot at becoming a professional ballerina right after graduation, which was everything she had ever wanted. My stomach tightened just by thinking about that and about how that dream had been tossed aside along with the dirt we threw over her casket during her funeral.
And now, this one.
I didn't know when she had written this message or whatever it meant, both in literal and in subliminal terms, but she'd wanted me to find and read it. I didn't know if she wanted to hurt me by leaving such a message, I didn't know if she already knew she was going to die and had been planning it for a while before it actually happened.
All I had left were unanswered questions and uncountable memories I had no idea what to do with. And where did that leave me?
"I'm sorry," I eventually muttered, raising a trembling hand to wipe the tears from my cheeks. The silence had dragged on for way too long and, once again, I found myself at a loss for words around Meridian. "I'm so sorry. I'm super sweaty, and you've just gotten out of the shower—"
"Sof," Meridian chimed in, letting out a low chuckle. "It's fine. I think we're way past that at this point."
I sniffled, never finding the energy to fully pull away from him. Neither of us bothered to bend over and pick up the stuff I had dropped.
