Smile, Synonym

[7] Stars Fade Out

Thea was everywhere now.

Her name would find its way into conversations all too well. Students would notice the empty seat somewhere in the centre of the classroom and know it was hers. And teachers would pause whenever they saw her name on the roll, sometimes even accidentally calling her out in the middle of a lecture.

Somehow, in the wake of her death, people remembered Thea Banks.

And it made it ironic really. To see the dead when you couldn't even notice the living.

Fletcher wasn't blind to how they regarded her now. They acted like Thea was their friend, someone they always said hi to whenever they saw her walking down the halls or spend afternoons together procrastinating a shitload of projects. Suddenly, their encounters of her were more than merely regular occurrences, so they analysed it as if it held meaning. And soon they began to forget entirely that, prior to her death, Thea Banks was basically an unimportant factor in their lives, someone who they would barely remember once they graduate high school — a person they never really cared about when she was alive.

"It's so sad what happened to her," someone from the crowd whispered, but close enough for Fletcher to hear. "And surprising. I mean, she wasn't the type to, you know...commit suicide."

There was this look on people's faces whenever they talked about Thea. The emotion in their eyes didn't resemble sadness nor grief — it was more of pity and even then, it was only temporal. The kind where later on in their lives, when they look back on their time at Kelly High, Thea would become some topic at dinner to tell to their families. She was some future stupid, sad story. Not a girl who tried to fix herself everyday and wanted desperately to be normal but couldn't.

"She was so nice too," the other said, the tone in her voice so ignorant and blunt. "Which makes it even sadder."

Perhaps what irritated Fletcher the most were the tokens they left in her memory. The school had posted a bunch of flyers around the walls about self-awareness and teachers would use Thea as an example to "help those around you because you never know what they might be going through" and "reach out for help when you really need it". It was all bullshit. Especially the memorial they left on Thea's locker. How they decorated it with red hearts and roses, with a photo of Thea taken from the yearbook, and stuck notes onto her locker saying how much they missed her and wished she were still here. Because if they really knew Thea Banks, they would've remembered what her favourite colour was or her favourite type of flower, and they would've used a photo of her that they captured themselves, not one from the school. Maybe then Thea would've been seen as human rather than some kind of new trend.

But Fletcher didn't have the right to say his own opinions on Thea. Not when he was one of them — no, he was even worse. He didn't simply ignore her when they walked past each other or even forget who she was for a split second.

Fletcher saw the frown on her face, the way it disturbingly twisted her innocent features. He saw the tears in her eyes and how they stung her cheeks in the process. He saw who she really was under all the sunshine and rainbows — the hollowness within begging to be filled. But he didn't do anything, not even flinch, and instead he told her to go away and left her alone in the rain.

While everyone else was a contributing factor, Fletcher was the tipping point — the exact moment that led to her death.

Fletcher could have chosen to saved her life, but in the end he didn't.

He never deserved to have her as a friend.

—

The following week Thea's funeral was held.

The school had an announcement for it too, just to inform the students of Kelly High that Thea's funeral would be after school on Friday at Orchid's Park.

And of course, everyone attended. Mainly because it was the right thing to do, but not really because they wholeheartedly wanted to.

If you looked at the ceremony from afar, you'd think there were a lot of people. That every single individual equally cared and mourned for the loss of Thea Banks. But up close, there weren't that many. In fact, if you took away all the students and teachers that attended her funeral, there would only be her aunt and granddad.

They both sat quietly in front. Thea's aunt stared at her niece's coffin, mind barely being able to wrap itself around the idea that she was dead, and her granddad, who was on his wheelchair, looked straight past the priest, almost in some sort of trance, like he wasn't fully there.

Fletcher's class was mostly quiet. Some kept their heads low and nodded in respect, while others whispered amongst each other and snickered silently so no one would hear them. His teachers kept to themselves and spoke whenever needed to, like when responding to the liturgy or telling students off when they got a little two loud.

From where they stood, all gathered together and facing Thea's coffin, Fletcher was a good distance away. He was hidden behind the trees, positioned in a corner that could easily be overlooked. He was there since the moment the funeral began and said nothing throughout. And not a tear slipped past his eye, not even when Thea's aunt got up to recite her eulogy.

"Thank you all for coming. I'm sure that Thea would've really appreciated it. She —" Thea's aunt drew a heavy breath, a sound that painfully echo through her microphone, and bit her lip before continuing. "She was a really good kid. Thea was friendly, loving, kind. She would do anything you told her to — for you — without complaint and a smile on her face. And she never cried or asked for anything in return. One in a million. I don't even think you could replace her if you tried."

She let out a small laugh, one that made her smile slightly but turn her eyes into stormy grey clouds. "Thea was an absolute shining star in the dark night, but I guess stars fade out too..." She paused. "God, I just — I thought I did everything, you know? I took her in, I gave her warmth. I thought I made her happy. Never in a million years did I think I'd find her lying on the bathroom floor, begging her to wake up—"

"Why couldn't you stay, Thea?" she asked, her voice almost like a whisper, tears forming her eyes. "I stayed."

Fletcher refused to cry, even when those who barely knew Thea began crying too. He wouldn't do it. He couldn't do. Because all he deserved was to wallow in his own guilt, with the petrifying image of Thea Banks alone in the rain haunting his mind.

So he bowed his head, bit his lip, and turned away.