By request, I’m writing about a death.
She fared poorly in the aftermath of that, and the gaggle of us girls donned our blacks and skipped school to support her through the funeral.
David’s friends were supporting one another, too, lined abreast in their pew, trying to look tough despite their suffering.
After the service, we girls went out to lunch. We laughed and hugged and ate.
I’m not sure what the boys did, but My Best Friend was feeling strong enough to join them in late afternoon.
At eveningtime she asked them to take her home. They were mourning by drinking, and she was emotionally exhausted.
From there they got on the freeway to cross town. There were four of those boys in the car. The windows were down and the music was blaring.
They took a tight curve on an offramp at 113 mph.
When the car flipped, Conrad went out the rear window, and the car crushed him as it rolled.
One group of friends saw two boys die within four days, not even a week into 1987.
My gaggle of girls made it to today, though, and when the time comes for me to grieve, I know they’ll put on their blacks and hold me up.