Cold tears dripped down my pale cheeks. Limb ripping wind tore at my short brown hair and knee length black dress. I stared down at a fresh grave. The marble tombstone was inscribed;
‘Lynda Amy Holland,
Beloved daughter, sibling, and friend.’
Thunder boomed above my head. The sky had long ago clouded over.
Her death was my fault.
I had shoved her away whenever she needed me.
locker doors slammed open. The inaudible mutterings and babbles of a hundred wafted in the air around me. I coated my lips in flame red make- up. Lynda walked up to me.
“Hey, mom said you can sleepover tonight. We may well work on our reports like you wanted,” she suggested.
Vickie and Summer, two of the most popular girls in school, gestured at me to come.
“Sorry Lyn, I promised that I would help Vickie with hers, and Summer already invited me over.”
Shouldering my backpack I joined my new friends, hollering over my shoulder, “see ya!”
Large drops of rain pelted the freshly turned earth above my dead friend. As I thought back on these memories, I realized this was where the problem began. Things only got worse. I kept pushing her aside for Summer, my boyfriend, and so many other popular people. She finally sat down and talked to me, telling me what I was doing was wrong.
My chair connected with the floor. The crash echoed though the room. My feet planted firmly on the carpet. I balled my fists.
“there’s no need to be mad, I’m just telling you what I think,” Lynda whispered.
“Butt out Lynda! I don’t care about you!”
“Listen, I know you think they are your friends, but they aren’t! They care nothing for you! You don’t mean anything to them, why do you refuse to be with the one friend that cares enough for you that I’m lecturing you right now?”
“Mind your own business!” I turned and stomped out the door.
Later that night the phone rang. Home alone at the time, I ran downstairs to answer it.
“Hello?” I said, holding the green phone to my ear.
An eerie silence engulfed me. No one spoke, I could hear someone breathing on the other end of the line.
My cat rubbed against my leg.
“Hello?” I whispered, clutching the counter with my right hand.
“I called to say goodbye,” Lynda breathed.
The other end of the line went dead.
I dropped the receiver, remembering how horrible I had been to her. Confused by what she meant when she called, I prayed for her.
Three hours later, someone knocked on our door. When I answered it, Mr. Holland stood before me.
“Thank goodness! I got a weird call from Lynda awhile back, is she ok?” I asked.
Silently he handed me a crumpled note, “We found this on her bed.”
Then he left. I opened the note. The paper rustled. Tears spilt down my cheeks as I re-read the note a dozen times. Five words had been written:
“If only you had cared.”
Water plastered my hair to my face. Rain poured down my dress. I knelt in the mud beside her grave. Placing my hand on her tome stone I whispered, “This is my fault and I’m sorry. I wasn’t a friend when you needed one, I promise I wont let this happen again.”
Blinded by tears I ran from the grave. As I turned my necklace broke, leaving a tiny sliver cross in the mud by the mound.
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