The Porters greet my parents with dazed handshakes, while I hug all three of them tightly, flashing back to the first time I met Chace’s parents. It hurts to remember how happy I was that night at the restaurant, flush in the glow of new romance. I never could have imagined how it would all unravel. If I had, I’d have marched straight into Headmaster Higgins’s office and demanded a different roommate, any roommate but her. Because one thing’s for sure: if it weren’t for our friendship, Nicole would never have gotten within spitting distance of a guy like Chace.
My parents and I lower into the seats in our reserved pew behind the Porters, watching the rest of the mourners file in. Stephanie and Kara arrive soon after us, and they sit right behind me, Steph squeezing my shoulder in solidarity. The guys from Chace’s soccer team are part of the next batch of arrivals, taking up a whole pew on the other side of the aisle. I feel someone slide into the seat beside me, and I stiffen. It’s Ryan, of course. One of Nicole’s last defenders. Why does he have to sit here?
As if he can read my mind, he says, “The reverend asked me to sit up front, since I’m one of the speakers….How are you doing?”
“How do you think?” I ask, my tone coming out even frostier than I intended.
He winces.
“I know. I feel the same.” He glances at my mom and dad, who are deep in conversation with someone from Congress who’s just joined our pew. “You’re lucky you have your parents here.”
“Yeah. Are yours coming?”
Ryan lowers his eyes.
“They couldn’t get off work. Plus there was no one to watch my brother.”
Our conversation, if you can call it that, ends there. The church is soon filled to standing room only, and the heavy doors swing shut. I turn around in my seat and scan the crowd, breathing a sigh of relief when I find no trace of Nicole, not even sitting with Brianne and the other orchestra geeks in the back pew. I warned the Porters that she would be a distraction. Thankfully, they must have listened to me.
The service begins with the reverend asking us to open our prayer books, and he speaks of how all death has a purpose. What purpose is there in this? I want to scream, but of course I don’t. I sit like the polite, well-bred girl I’m expected to be, prayer book open in my lap.
Headmaster Higgins takes the podium next, and after extolling Chace’s virtues on and off the school soccer field, she reads a letter of condolence from the president of the United States. I wonder what Chace would make of that. He loved to poke fun at our parents’ high and mighty jobs, but I wonder if he’d be proud now, hearing the president acknowledging his too-short life.
The headmaster returns to her seat, and all too soon it’s my turn. My legs feel oddly jellylike as I stand up. Dad gives my hand a squeeze before I make my way out of our pew and walk up the aisle to the podium.
“I used to imagine being in a church like this one day with Chace,” I begin. “Maybe it was silly to think that of a high-school love. But that’s how I felt.”
And it’s true, that’s exactly what I envisioned, until she came and shattered the fantasy. My throat tightens, but I continue.
“Many of you knew Chace as the star athlete of our school, or as the congressman’s handsome son, but to me he was something else entirely. He was the guy who gave me constant butterflies, who made me feel like each day was a gift.” I close my eyes. “Until one day it wasn’t.”
For a moment it feels like I’m watching a scene in a movie, that these words are coming from an actress’s mouth—because it can’t be real, he can’t be dead. I blink, finding my parents’ faces in the crowd, and they nod their encouragement.
“I’ll miss Chace Porter every day, but I’d like to believe a part of him will stay with me, in my heart, forever.”
I climb down the stairs, swallowing the lump in my throat. What would he think of my eulogy from up there in heaven? Would he laugh at my so-called desire for him to stay with me, in my heart? “Even a spirit can’t split itself in two, Lana,” he might say. “You know whom I’d choose to be with, even in death.” My hands tighten into fists at the thought.
As I slip back into my seat, Ryan gets up, taking my place at the podium. He has a typewritten sheet of paper in his grasp.
“One of the luckiest things to ever happen to me was getting Chace Porter for a roommate,” he says, looking out at the crowd. “He made the past year one that was full of adventure, fun, and friendship, and I’ll never forget him….”
My mind drifts as Ryan speaks. I don’t care what he has to say, anyway. Instead, I replay my memories of Chace on a loop, while staring at the giant photo of his beautiful face. And then a change in Ryan’s tone gets my attention.