Leila Bernstein was tall, with straight puddle brown hair and electric blue eyes. She loved historic novels, and Biographies. She loved photography, and sketching people, especially eyes. She played the clarinet, and had a gap in her two front teeth. She loved folk music, and wore long, floaty skirts, with bangles jangling on her wrists as she walked. She loved ice-cream, cinnamon cupcakes, and champagne.

She was sixteen when she died.

There was a quiet funeral, with family and friends. People saying goodbye, and how bad they felt that someone like Leila should die so young.

I don’t even think they knew who they were saying goodbye to.

But when they left, they were hoping things would go back to normal.

It’s amazing how the loss of a life can turn into something amazing.

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Author guidance for This story

When one girl dies, nothing substantial changes. At least, nothing appears to. Until one boy is hijacked to live the dead girls life.
As story about how when one light goes out, a thousand more go out too.

(Would love to collaborate with someone on this!)

updated Feb 5 by Hayley