Forever Blue by Jennifer Edlund

Dad’s room, Mom in hysterics and me waitingin the hallway in sheer terror, for as long as I live. My Dad, my hero, a man I thought to be indestructible, was pronounced deadtwenty-five minutes later.The doctors assured us the cliché “We tried everything to save him, but his heart was just too weak.” I felt like my soul had been doused in gasoline and someone had lit a match. My heart just smolderedaway into nothingness. From that night forward, my life would take a drastic turn, whether I was prepared for it or not.
     
    ***
     
        With no immediate family still living, Dad’s funeral consisted of mainly co-workers from the dealership. At the reception, I sat in a corner of the room by myself. I glanced at my reflection in the living window, feeling ugly in my baggy black dress. Tearstains had run down my cheeks and smeared my eye makeup.
         “Here, I brought you some food.” Ruth handed me a plate with half a sandwich and potato salad.  In spite of how dreary that day was, shehadmanaged to make herself look gorgeous in a black velour knee-length dress. A river of creamy pearls surrounded her delicate neck like a choker.
         “I’m not hungry, but thank you.” I continued to look out the window in despair.
    “Come on. You have to eat.”
        I knew she was trying to be helpful, but I just wanted to be alone. “Ruth, please. I don’t want it.”
        “At least try the pasta salad. It’s really good.”
        I would have done anything to get her to leave me aloneat that point.“Fine.”
        “Okay, I’ll go get you some.” She scooted off and disappeared amid the crowd.
        After everyone left the reception, all the pain and heartache rushed back to me at the sound of Mom’smuffled cries in her bedroom.The sound of her crying was like nails running down a chalkboard. With my heart thudding, I went back to my bedroom and lockedthe door. I lieddown on my bed and looked up at the posters of Carter that I had taped to the ceiling. As silly as it sounded, I sometimes talked to his pictures.Sometimes it was as if the blue-eyed boy himselfwas sittingright there in the room with me, andit comforted me in more ways than I could count.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    That’s What Friends are For
    
     
    1992

 
     
     
        Yes, Carter was the only friend I had in eighth grade, but I felt confident with just him by my side.The outside world could do no harmwhen I was with him at school.Surprisingly, that school year went along smoothly. Then one afternoon the inevitable happened: The school bully, Tim Morris, decided to choose me as his next victim.
          Students were scattered throughout the horseshoe atrium during lunch while they socialized with their cliques on the cement steps. Carter was meeting me in this area after he got done with gym class. The longer I waited,the more impatient I became. I felt a light touch onmy back and I thought it was Carter, butI turned around only to find an unopened ketchup packet at my feet.When I looked up,therestood Tim Morriswith his unmistakable fiery red hair, paleskin, and dark brown freckles.I'd known him since grade school, and the big brute was extremely obnoxious as he was overweight. He was one of those kids who picked on others to make up for his own low self-esteem.
         Something hit my back againmoments later.This time it was an unopened mustard packet.
         “What the hell?” I yelled back at Tim. “Cut it out.”
          Tim and his entouragelaughed hysterically. I had hadjust about enough of his childish antics,andI got up to walk away. I’d only gone two steps when something wet struck me dead center on my forehead—a French fry drenched in ketchup.
        “Score!” Tim said victoriously as he gave his friend a high-five.
        A glob of ketchup slid down my cheek and landed onnew my red blouse. I could have sworn everyone