Free Breaking Dawn by Donna Shelton Page A

that energy. But when she leaves the room, I find enough to cry myself back to sleep.
    It’s three days before the funeral takes place. That’s three days of lying in bed, or on the couch in front of the television, in the same pyjamas, just existing. I feel safe in the comfort of my own home. I don’t have to see anyone or talk to anyone. At some point during those three days, I’ve managed to carry Perry’s bag up to my room and toss it into a corner. Having it there, it makes me feel like he might be coming back for it somehow. Wishful thinking, but it brings me some odd comfort.
    My parents are being kept busy between Grandma in the hospital and the funeral arrangements. They give me lots of space when they are home and only speak to tryto get me to eat something. I just don’t have the energy it would take to chew and swallow. I can’t stand the thought of eating.
    Now it’s the day of the funeral, and I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t want to talk to people, to view Perry’s body in an open casket, or see others cry. I don’t want to go. I feel like I’m the worst person in the world for not wanting to go to my best friend’s funeral. But I feel that by going, it makes it all real. Perry is dead. I am alone. Going will only make me face reality.
    There is a knock at my door. I look up from my pillow to see Dad, all dressed up in one of his best suits. He sits down on the edge of the bed and with one hand he sweeps the hair out of my face.
    ‘We leave in an hour,’ he says. ‘This is going to be hard, Dawn, but you need to do this. This is the last time you will get to say goodbye and if you don’t go, you will regret it for the rest of your life.’
    The rest of my life. I just can’t see that far ahead.
    ‘Get up, take a shower and get dressed.’ It’s more of an order than a request. ‘We’ll be waiting downstairs for you.’
    Dad leaves me. He knows that I will do as he says, for Perry as much as for him and Mom. I look deep inside myself for the strength to push my weary body up off the bed. Get up. Fine, I’m up. A good shower will help me. After three days in the same clothes, I definitely need one. Okay Dad, I’ll shower and dress. I’ll do it, but I’m not going to like it.

    I sit in the back of Dad’s car on the way to Masons Funeral Home. I don’t notice the ride and pretty soon we pull into the car park. There are quite a few cars. I doubt they are all for Perry. He didn’t know a lot of people.
    I walk behind Mom and Dad. Maybe no one will notice me or speak to me if I’mhiding behind them. That’s what I want. It seems to work.
    As we approach the room set aside for Perry, I stop at the open doors while Mom and Dad sign the guest book. From here I can see the casket on display.
    One of the funeral attendants – I’m assuming a Mason, since this is a family-owned business – is standing outside the doors, greeting the mourners and asking them to sign the book. He is speaking to my parents in a soft voice, a comforting tone for mourners. It makes me feel sick. I take the pen from the book and look over the signatures. I recognize a few of them; Brian and Carla, and then the names of a few teachers. I don’t see Perry’s mom’s signature. Maybe she isn’t here yet.
    I sign my name and avoid looking at the attendant with his sickening, soft, understanding smile. I wander over to stand in the open doorway and hover, counting heads, looking to see who is where. I see a lot of familiar faces. I can’t help but feelthat we’re all dressed up like we are at a freaking party and not a funeral. At the far end of the room, a dark oak casket with gold trim is laid out surrounded by flowers. Not too many flowers. The biggest arrangement is from our school. The small arrangements scattered around the casket are those picked out by Mom. One end of the casket is open, revealing the white satin liner. And the object of my fear. My heart is pounding in my chest, I have to