Knowing Jude

I talk to her. I know she can't hear me, I know she isn't even exactly down there, and I like to think of her soul dancing somewhere like she used to do, with the stars or in heaven. I talk to her anyway, as if she can hear me.

I tell her about my first detention. I tell her how many things are different without her around, but I definitely do not tell her about Jen and Jax. I don't even mention Jax. There are fresh flowers near the headstone, other than the live ones, and I wonder who they are from.

Does Jax even come here?

And tell her what?

Hey, I'm now dating your other best friend?

Or cry and ask that she forgives him?

I stay for a while, throwing glances at the mass of black on the other side, watching so I'll see when it's time to leave so that my parents won't miss me.

I tell her about Jude.

"You would have made fun of me, right? And teased me about how I now have the hottest guy in school talking to me. And urged me to go get him, you and Simon. Did you get to tell Simon how hot he is getting each passing day? Not that I care, but it's true and you know what? Yeah, you guessed, he has no idea. Back to Jude. I actually thought we were friends, crazy, I know, then he acts rudely, and I hate him so much ugh... What did I expect? He's a bad boy who doesn't care. He has this side to him that almost had me fooled, but then he goes and implies that I'm using him to get to Cole Adams. Me! The one and only Ava Hansen, yes. I swear I hate him."

I pause, remembering how pissed off I still am at that boy. What would Angeline say?

She would wiggle her brow, giving me a discerning look.

Are you sure it's hate? She would ask to rile me up.

Then I'd throw something at her, whatever I could lay my hand on.

I smile as I remember all the things I did with her, how free I had been with her, confiding every single detail of my life to her, teasing and annoying her to no end because she was my best friend and I could. How she understood me and my way of communicating without asking a hundred questions or getting confused. The tears flow, and I let them because she's worth every single drop.

Finally, I rise, promising to be back soon, and head towards the others. I make sure not to look at any of the other headstones closely because my mind likes to get carried away, and I might read saddening details.

I take deep breaths as I move along, wiping my cheeks and my nose to hide evidence of my crying. There are statues of stone carvings placed at some points in the cemetery, of angels and birds. Big statues loom over everything else, and I skirt around one, looking up to the angel's face. Smooth and relaxed, as if oblivious to the darkness of this place.

I stand there and stare, like a mindless loon, until a sudden sound startles me and I jump, dropping my head to look around.

There in front of me, hidden from the activity beyond by a large tree that's paces away from the statue, is a boy. One I've seen earlier today, but never before that.

He's tall, around 6'0, and dark-haired. His grey bloodshot eyes are looking right at me, a myriad of feelings swimming in them.

Isaac Henry Rutherford.

The boy Mum mentioned last night, Mrs. Ford's son.

I stare back at him, speechless, being my usual socially awkward self.

Should I say something?

Of course! My subconscious snaps.

Like what? I shoot back.

You're pretty brilliant for a person who has perfect grades, the voice shoots back, heavy with sarcasm.

Wow, even my subconscious has got my sense of sarcasm.

I shift on my feet and search my mind for something to say.

"Hi!"

See, not so hard!

"Hi," he replies, but his voice is rough and unsteady. "Sorry, I'll leave," he Mumbles, then turns to go in another direction, farther away from the mourners.

"No," I find myself saying. I lick my lips nervously. "You can stay."

He stops and looks back at me, then his eyes fall on the bench that's beneath the angel. He doesn't come forward, though. Instead, he goes back to the tree and slides down against the trunk, sitting on the ground, tuxedo and all.

My eyes are on him, and I see his entire body shiver. It's not cold out here, and I know that's from either crying too much or holding in his sobs. I haven't seen him cry during the course of the day. I noticed the family-him, the mother, and a younger girl.

He is now the man of the house, and no matter his age, he has to be strong for his mother and sister.

I take a deep breath and step closer to him. "It's okay," I tell him.

I see his face twist, and I can just guess what he thinks I'm trying to tell him. That everything is going to be okay. It might, but right now, it's not.

"It's okay to cry. You are allowed to grieve."

His grey eyes shoot to mine, a little surprised. I bet no one has told him that. All people tell you is don't cry, stop crying, but it doesn't help. It also doesn't make sense. Grief isn't something you can wish away. It's something that makes you want to scream until you can't feel anymore because feeling nothing at all would be a lot better than that hollow feeling.

I see his Adam's apple bob, and I acquire a little courage. I take a step, and another, towards him. I lower myself to the ground before him, leaving enough space between us to avoid crowding him.

"You can cry, Isaac. You have every right to."

He does.

He breaks down right in front of me, sobbing so hard that my heart breaks as I watch him, and tears flow down my cheeks. I don't care if I sound like a cry baby or not, but I have always been sensitive and emotional, and I feel people's pain even when it has nothing to do with me.

Somehow, in the middle of him wailing, I close the distance between us and hold his hand, squeezing it and letting him know that even as he provides an emotional pillar to his family, he too deserves to have someone to hold onto when it all gets too much.

I lost my best friend and it gets too much a lot. He has lost his father, and I don't want to think about it.

Isaac calms down, and I don't rush him, because I know how much he needs it. When he finishes wiping his face and blowing his nose, however, I bring him to the present.

"You'll have to go back now. They must be looking for you."

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He nods, folds his handkerchief, and puts it in his pocket. "Thank you," he Mumbles, offering me a tight smile. His eyes are bloodshot, his cheeks rosy. He rises to his feet and wipes at his pants. "Thanks," he whispers again before disappearing around the tree.

Ten minutes later, I'm back in my Dad's car, staring out of the window, unseeing. Trey settles beside me, and Dad starts the car. Two minutes into the eerily silent ride, Trey bounces in his seat. "Lilly wants to video chat!"

I look sideways at him, at Mum, then at the rearview mirror to try and see Dad's reaction. Trey checks for Dad's reaction too.

"Goodness, kids. You can talk to your sister without looking at me as if I'm going to blow the planet," Dad deadpans, earning a playfully slap on his shoulder from Mum.

I huddle up to Trey just as Lily's flawless face comes onto the screen.

"Hey, guys...wait. Is that Jo in a dress?" she asks, her grey eyes widening in disbelief.

I groan. "Hello to you too, dear sister. I miss you too, very much."

She chuckles, and so does Mum upfront.

"Why is she dressed up, Trey? Where are you guys going to? Are you in a car?"

"I thought you're a model, not an anthropologist?" Trey smarts.

"Answer my question, you little..."

I quickly put my finger over my lips, shushing her.

"Watch your language, the folks are here," Trey stage whispers, which is really funny because everybody can hear.

"Hi, Lilian." My mother calls from her seat.

"Hi, Mum!"

There's a short silence before Dad's voice sounds. "Hey, Lilian."

My sister's eyes widen a little. They have clearly not gotten past their disagreement. "Hi, Dad."

Trey jumps in then and tells her where we are from.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"Flying to London tonight," she answers with a smile.

"I'm jealous," I announce.

"I'm sure you'll get into UOL or something else like that, don't fret," she teases.

As you reach the final pages, remember that 000005s.com is your destination for the complete story. Share the joy of reading with others and spread the word. The next chapter is just a visit away!

Trey snorts. "We all know she wants to go there so that she can meet some sexy British boy and have a bunch of kids. Tell her to go to Paris instead. Or Milan."

Lilly shakes her head, pretending to be serious. "No, I think it'll be easier for her to meet Harry Styles in England. Let her go."

And this is how my two nosy siblings always gang up against me.

"Better yet, Hollywood-"

"Don't you two have better stuff to talk about than plan my future?" I interrupt.

"Will you go to Barcelona? I want a signed shirt," Trey tells her.

"From who, Messi? I'm not a miracle worker, young man," she laughs.

"You're no good."

"Work your ass hard and go meet him yourself," she challenges.

I chuckle when I realise she has cursed and our parents can hear her. Her eyes widen, and she makes a face.

"Can we talk some other time?"

"When the parentals are absent?" Trey suggests out loud. I hit him on his head.

He glowers. "What's that for?"

"For being our very brilliant small brother," Lilly replies on my behalf.

Trey does a massive eye roll. "I'm not your small brother!"

I nod. "Okay old one. Shut up now. Bye Lilly."

She laughs. "Bye, talk to you guys later."

She disconnects, and Trey shoots me a glare. "Getting you back."

"For?" I ask in disbelief. I didn't do anything, did I?

"You'll know, you'll know," he mutters mysteriously.

I simply roll my eyes and sit back, already wishing for this tiresome day to end.