Free Beyond Vica by T. C. Booth Page B

“I’ve written a letter to Sam that I would like to share.” I clear my throat.
    â€œ'Dear Sam…You once thanked me for being the best friend you could’ve asked for. I’m the one who needs to thank you. Thank you for all the times you made me laugh when I felt like crying. Thank you for seeing the best in me when I couldn’t see it in myself.
    â€œ'Thank you for sharing our dreams of the future, you an astronomer and me in the WNBA. You said you’d be my biggest fan, light up the night sky with my name and jersey number. You said you’d figure out how to display it all the way from space.'” I pause for a few chuckles, then continue.
    â€œ'Thank you for accepting my pushy over-protectiveness as just the way I look out for you. Most of all thank you for just being you: Sam the best friend, Sam the big brother, Sam the deep thinker, Sam with a heart as big as the galaxies you admired.'” I have to stop and swallow the lump rising in my throat. I feel all the eyes in the room on me and hear the sound of sniffles.
    â€œ'My last thank-you is to God, for blessing all of us with you for the last fifteen-and-a-half years.'” I gesture toward the whole room with a sweep of my arm when I say “all of us” and give Rachel a smile. Tears running down her cheeks, she smiles back.
    â€œ'Love always and forever, Gabby.'”

Chapter Eighteen
    It’s been a month since the funeral. It still hurts—a lot—but I’m doing a little better each day. I got my license, but not the red Camaro, for my birthday. The little white Honda mom bought is fine with me, though. I’m working at her flower shop for the summer to earn gas money and to keep busy.
    Jamie and I met with Mrs. Smith about the e-magazine. We decided to call it Drop a Line. The first issue will feature poetry by Jamie and my story, “Beyond Vica.”
    I honk the horn when I pull into Jamie’s driveway. She bounces down the front steps of her aunt’s single-story tan ranch home. Her hair is now red.
    â€œYou got your swimsuit?” I ask when she gets in. We’re going to a pool party at Rachel’s.
    â€œRight here,” she says and pats a cloth bag at her side. “Where’s Brody?”
    â€œHe’s meeting us at Rachel’s. He met some of the guys there when he got off work. I had to work later than he did today.” I turn into the Dublin Cemetery and pull under a willow tree and park. I turn to Jamie. “There was another letter I had to write.” I hold an envelope up to show her. “I’ll be right back.”
    She smiles. “Take your time.” She knows who it’s for.
    I’m careful not to step on any stones on my way to the headstone I’m looking for. I stop at a gray marble headstone with the name “Darin Martin” on it. I place the envelope with the letter inside at the base of the stone. I lay two flowers on the envelope, one pink and one blue, tied together with a ribbon.
    â€œI love you, Dad,” I say, blowing a kiss and then skipping back to my car.

About the Author
    TC Booth was born and raised in the small town where she currently lives and teaches. She is married with two daughters, teaches, and holds a master's degree in education.
    She discovered her enjoyment of writing at a young age with the writing of poetry. This love of writing developed into writing short stories for her family and students.
    She wrote the children's story, The Time Travel Storm for her class that was published in 2012. Her short young adult fiction story titled "A Seasoned Card Player" was published in an anthology called A Certain Kind of Freedom last year.
    She feels blessed to be living her dream of not only teaching children, but writing stories for them and young adults to enjoy as well.

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