I stand in front of the mirror examining myself. Today is Jacy's funeral, and I'm so not prepared for this. I'm wearing the dress Jacy wore for a party back in tenth grade. It's a black dress that stops at my knees, the skirt ruffles delicately, and the top is sleeveless, around the waist is a black bow, that always gave her problems. I slip a black sweater on and my black pumps onto my feet. I straightened my hair for Jacy, sure she loved my curls, but she always wanted to straighten my hair.

I look away from the mirror, not wanting to cry just yet. I walk over the the dresser, grab my purse, and walk out of my room. Scooter greets me by licking my legs. Smiling slightly, I pet his furry head. He sighs and trots over to the couch. He jumps onto it and lays down to take a nap. I shake my head with a quiet chuckle and walk to my mom's room.

Knocking on the door, I ask, "You ready?" I hear movement, and the door opens.

Mom stands in front of me wearing black dress pants, a black blouse, and her hair in a tight, professional bun. Her coat is draped over her arm, and she looks at my outfit. She smiles sadly at me.

"Are you ready?" she asks. I swallow painfully and shake my head. Mom pulls me to her and kisses my forehead. She rubs my back comfortingly.

We finally pile into Mom's truck and drive over to the local Baptist church, where Jacy's family attended. Jacy has taken me only a couple times. We haven't been a lot, because we've always been so busy with school and other things. I lean my head against the window and watch the trees zoom by.

We turn onto a gravel road, leading up to a white church. The steeple looms high above us, looking dark and dangerous under the gray clouds above. Thunder crackles in the sky, and Mom and I hurry inside before it rains. 

We make it inside, and I see many familiar faces. People from school, both sides of Jacy's family, and her parents. A lady that works at the local supermarket walks up to Mom. They greet each other, and I walk over to Thomas. 

He stares blankly at a picture of Jacy on a stand near the alter. The picture is when we both went behind her house to take pictures in the woods. Her brown hair flows behind her, her gray eyes shining, and a grin plastered on her face. I put my hand on Thomas' shoulder, and he jumps. He looks at me, then relaxes.

"Hey," he mumbles.

"Hey," I reply. "How are you?" Thomas shrugs.

"I've been better," he answers. I nod in agreement.

We stand there in silence, when unexpectedly, Thomas turns to me and traps me in a hug. I stumble a bit in shock, but I eventually wrap my arms around him. The fourteen year old places his head on my shoulders, and his tears stain my sweater. I let them though.

I stroke his brown locks, twirling them between my fingers. His arms tighten around me, like I'm going to disappear or something. When he stops crying, he looks up at me, his gray eyes glossy. My heart goes out to him. Jacy wasn't just my best friend, but Thomas' sister.

"You know," Thomas mutters bitterly, "I guess this makes you my new sister."

I hold him at arms link, staring in shock. "Don't say that! Jacy was the best sister you could ever have, and I'll will never take her spot," I argue. Thomas wipes his nose with his tux sleeve and nods.

"You're right, Callie. Sorry."

My expression softens, and I hug him again. One of Thomas' friends come up to us and pats him on the shoulder. Thomas smiles watery at me and turns to his friend. I sigh and turn around, walking away.

I walk down the forest green carpeted aisle towards the alter. On the stage is Jacy's oak coffin. I walk up the three steps and stop at the top. Memories start running through my head as I stare at the open coffin. Taking a deep breath, I walk over-slowly-to the coffin.

Jacy lays inside the plush white linen of the coffin. Her hair is straight and descends pass her breasts with the tips brushing the black buttons on her favorite blue cardigan. Her face is paler from her usual tan, and her make up is done in a Jacy-type way. Under her cardigan is her white v-neck with autographs from her favorite band, Skillet. Her hands are clasped together; her nails still painted the mint green color she did two days after school started.

As I'm examining my friend, I notice something around her neck. It's a necklace with a small key charm. I choke on a sob. My hand flies to my neck, and I finger with the heart charm on my necklace. These are our best friend necklaces. We got them our freshmen year and never took them off. Jacy's is a key, and mine is a heart with a key shape in the middle, so when put together, they connect.

I reach my shaking hand down and grasp Jacy's. Her hand is cold and dry. I squeeze it, wanting her to squeeze back.

She doesn't.

I choke out a sob and place her hand back. "I miss you, Jace. Please...come back," I whisper. Her eyes remain closed, and tears fall freely down my face.

A hand rests upon my shoulder, and I turn and see Matthew with a sad look on his face. My heart clenches, but I don't have the energy to fight him off.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice shaky and watery. Matthew strokes Jacy's hand and looks at me.

"I thought you might need a shoulder to cry on," he answers softly, removing his hand from the casket. I stare at him for another moment, before looking back at Jacy. I tilt my head thoughtfully to the side, and she looks like she's sleeping.

"Sleeping with the dead," I think bitterly. I shake my head and turn away from the casket. I start walking off the stage as other people with tear-streaked faces walk onto the stage, mourning Jacy. Matthew follows me; our shoulders bumping.

I sit down in a pew, and Matthew slides in next to me. He slides his hands into his pockets and sighs through his nose. We sit there in silence, and more tears stream down my face. I put my face in my hands and lean my elbows on my knees. 

I feel a tap on my shoulder, and Matthew is offering me a tissue. I take it and wipe the wetness off my face.

"Thanks," I mutter, sniffing.

"No problem..."

Silence overtakes us, and I shift in my seat.

"Thank you for coming," I say after some time. "Really. It means a lot." Matthew smiles at me thoughtfully.

"Well, that means something coming from someone who yelled they hated me," he replies. Color rushes to my face, and I shake my head.

"I didn't mean it. I was just upset. I'm sorry." Matthew shakes his head.

"No, you had every right to say that. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I wanted to, but I couldn't," he says, biting his lip. I shrug.

"We all have our secrets," I state blankly. Matthew sighs and closes his eyes.

"I think I know yours," he mumbles. I look at him.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" I challenge. He opens one eye, then opens the other, leaning down to my ear.

"That you're going on a private investigation," he whispers. I freeze. 

The air is knocked out of me, and the color drains from my face. Matthew leans back with an emotionless look on his face.

"H-How did you know?" I demand anxiously. Matthew looks at me pained.

"Because...from the short time that I've known you, you seem like the type of person to do something like this."

Disbelief surges through my body, and I look away from him. Am I really that predictable? Before I can say anything else, a voice calls my name. I look up and see Xaiver, dressed in a black dress shirt and pants.

"Hey," he says softly, his blue eyes heavy with sadness.

"Hey," I reply, standing up and hugging him. His arms wrap around my shoulders and waist, and he buries his head into my shoulder. I inhale deeply, taking in his musky scent.

"How are you?" he asks into my neck. I shrug.

"I've been better. You?" Xaiver chuckles and pulls away from our embrace. He shrugs as well, then looks at Matthew.

Matthew stands to his feet, smoothing out his shirt. His shoulders are tense, and his eyes lock into Xaiver's; a silent message passing through them.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone," Matthew dismisses tightly. "I'll see you around." He looks at me for a moment with a longing look, then walks away. I open my mouth to say something, but Xaiver gently makes me look at him.

He sighs, examining my face. He closes the distance between us and places a gentle kiss onto my lips. He pulls away folding me into his arms and resting his chin on top of my head. I hear his heart pound inside of his chest, and I close my eyes, feeling peace.

"Thank you, Xaiver," I whisper softly. "Thank you."