Joshua Craig was buried the Friday after his murder was resolved. I swear, everybody came to line the road as he travelled to the cemetery. Most of the school was there, probably. The only people who I knew were not there were Caroline Peterson and Andrew Smith. It was strange; they were opposites, in the end: she loved Josh, he hated him-and yet they both couldn’t make it there that day. I walked in the funeral procession, beside a veiled Alicia and behind her weeping grandmother; sometimes supporting them both but other times just staring through the coal-coloured hearse into the black of loneliness. But I wasn’t alone anymore; Alicia, although dispirited now, had a sound sense of humour and was polite to the point of being insensitive, a perfect pal. I hadn’t heard from Carrie yet, so Saint Alicia was a ray of sunshine in my current night.
When we reached the cemetery, I turned to go, but felt a hand on my arm.
“Stay, please.” It was Mrs. Craig, “Joshua would have wanted it. He mentioned you a few times, Agnetha. You were his favourite student, because he could see right into your golden heart.”
I blushed; that was quite embarrassing, hearing what a late teacher, and one that I had always looked up to, had always thought of me.
“Carrie told me she felt better around you. I think she’d want you to be here, as she can’t herself.”
I nodded, speechless, and turned back to the service. Alicia saw me returning, smiled so sadly and nodded. She didn’t speak but she didn’t need to- her eyes spoke a thousand words of poetry that her mother could have never managed.
“Thank you,” whispered Mrs. Craig.
“Don’t,” I whispered back, blushing again, “I didn’t do it for the fame or money…I did it for him…”