I always hated the color black. Black means depression and grieving, which is how I feel now. But most importantly I feel like a failure. I sit between Miranda and Chelsea, mostly to keep them from clawing at each other. Chelsea wears a beautiful black halter dress while Miranda wears a plain black t-shirt and a polka dot black skirt. Black, Black, Black. Derek sits in the far left corner of the church. A whole bench was preserved for him. Either that or nobody wanted to sit by him, not even his own grandpa.
A woman in the back row screams like a banshee and a few people dressed in black come to comfort her. More black…. I recognize her as Erick and Derick’s mother sitting in her wheelchair. My tears fight to break loose from even the mention of his name. I sniffle a bit. A skinny arm wraps around me. I look and see it’s Miranda. I hug her close. The dam keeping my tears from pouring breaks and I find myself uncontrollably weeping on her shoulder. "I did everything I could."
"We know you did." Her voice was more pleading than comforting. "We tried too," she said.
The other damn that was keeping my mouth closed breaks and I ramble on, telling her what I’ve been thinking ever since I’ve heard the news. "That bastard, Derick! He did this! It’s all his fault!" Chelsea pats my back reassuringly. "It was nobody’s fault, Jared." Her voice is calmer nowadays.
Nobody says anything until the ceremony starts. I lift my head to catch my breath and see Derick slouching over in his seat, head down. It’s hard to tell if he’s crying or not. But knowing Derick, he’s probably smirking or trying to hold back a laugh. He got what he wanted and I will never forgive him for this. This was taking it too far. The preacher walks to his podium and everyone shuts up.
"Let us bow our heads in remembrance of Erick Able. Now let us pray." I bow my head but I'm not listening. All I can think about is what I'm going to do to Derick when the ceremony’s over. What kind of sick bastard kills his twin brother? It’s like looking in a mirror and stabbing yourself. "I don’t think Derick killed him." I tilt my head to see Miranda whispering to herself. "I think he killed himself." Every single nerve in my body told me to get the heck out of here and set Derick’s house on fire. But I didn’t wanna burn all Erick’s stuff.
I am sitting here next to two girls I didn't even know existed until last year and hating a boy I thought would be my best friend and crying over a boy who was in love with me.