❝If heaven's grief brings hell's rain, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday.❞

-'Just One Yesterday' by Fall Out Boy

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Within a half hour, the sun has set over Lake Placid. It's only around 5:30, but the valley is quickly filled with shadows as my passengers and I enter the festival and receive our lanterns. Within the fairgrounds, I feel like I've stepped into some east coast Coachella. There's a line of hipster food trucks to my left, and a huge stage to my right, and in the far corner, a large white Ferris wheel. People have set up blankets and fire circles, and everyone in the here is our age or only slightly older, with the most elderly and youthful persons I see being a frazzled 40-something mom being dragged by her pre-teen daughter to the fried chicken truck.

It's a world of flannel and denim and booties and floppy hats, with friends cheering craft beers and girls taking group pictures even in the middle of the path. If it were summer, I can only imagine the lace and leather and flower crowns that would decorate the crowd. Inexplicably, it smells like maple and cologne, even with the food stands that dot the edges of the field.

Each of us receive a lantern, although Mor easily gives Macy's his, at her begging. At the gates, they tell us that we'll set the lanterns off at quarter to 7 - which gives us about an hour and 15 minutes to do... whatever it is they do at functions like these.

I feel a bit lost among all these people. This isn't the crowd I'm used to - some part of me yearns to go back to Warped Tour and find my old friend Erika again - but Veronica, Macy, and Trevor fit right in. The first of these is who takes the lead, directing us to a spot near the artisanal ice cream stand, right next to the edge of the woods and a giant gray boulder.

I have two old blankets in my trunk: one red and gray with little black pawprints, another with the logo of the Jackals on it, both made by Mrs. Nyquist for some football boosters fundraiser a few years ago. Taking them in with me, I lay them down where Veronica directs, and watch Trevor's eyes light up ever so slightly at the sight of the Crimson and Ebony.

Gingerly, I set my lantern down. My three human companions do the same, then Macy jumps up and claps. "I'm going to go get ice cream."

"Have you actually eaten anything real today?" Trevor asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you trying to tell me ice cream is fictional?" Macy puts her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket and grins. "If you come with me, maybe I'll get some funnel cake or something too. Does that count as real?"

"Babe, I'm not saying you need to eat super healthy. I'm just saying maybe you shouldn't get dessert first. It might make you sick."

In response, Macy merely sticks out her tongue at him. And then she walks away, presumably to get ice cream. Trevor makes a face, like he's an annoyed mother dealing with an insolent child, then runs to catch up with her.

That leaves Veronica, Mor, and I, and for a moment, I don't feel awkward at all. Veronica and I both chuckle as the couple runs away, and then she shakes her head and says, "I swear, she has the spirit of a 10 year-old and he has the soul of a 70 year-old. I don't know how they do it."

"Yeah, but he's always been that way," I say with a laugh, not realizing what I'm doing. "Remember that time in 8th grade, when he didn't see we were having a fire drill because he was too deep into his textbook? We came back to class and he was just sitting there at his desk, doing quadratic equations in his notes."

Veronica's chuckle grows into a laugh too, but then we look at each other, and my skin goes cold. Although I'd like to become civil with the Ice Queen again, I'm not about to start acting like we're best friends and just let the way she's treated me all these months slip by unnoticed. It looks like she's not done treating me that way, anyway, because instantly, her cheeks lose their color and her eyes narrow. She gives me a deathly look, then grumbles, "I'm going to get a drink."

And then, she too, turns on her heel and walks away, although in a much more arrogant manner than Macy. Now, in the torchlight, her hair shines red, like the blood of the devil. I watch her go, and immediately feel uncomfortable.

It doesn't help when I turn and see Mor leaning against the closest oak tree with a complacent look on his face.

"For a moment there, it almost looked like you were going to be friends again," Mor says, feigning disappointment as he shakes his head and sighs. "What a shame."

"I don't even know what that was. I wasn't thinking. It's like I forgot my situation for a second." I step towards him, and cross my arms. The October wind comes back, and brushes my hair to the side.

"And what exactly started that situation, anyway? I understand you two have a tumultuous history, but what caused your final fallout?"

I frown, and for a moment, I almost can't remember. What happened later that night tends to distract me from any memory of why exactly Will and I decided not to go to prom. Fatal car crashes are a bit more noteworthy than petty fights between dramatic teenagers. But if I remember correctly, our group of friends all planned to hang out at prom together, and go to a bonfire at Veronica's afterwards. Then, a minute into Will and I's drive to the setting of prom - a ski lodge a few miles up Route 7 - I got a text from Macy, saying that the Ice Queen decided last second to skip the dance for some frat party at University of Vermont, dragging Macy and many of my other acquaintances along with her. Trevor's mom had found out and grounded him, and that left Will and I pretty much alone.

It wasn't really a big deal - I know that. Bad communication skills and a hint of selfishness would never be enough to rip Veronica and I apart, after everything we've went through. But it was what happened afterwards, and the way she treated me forevermore - the cocky smirks, backwards jabs, and general exclusion, that caused our divide to dive deeper.

To this day, I don't understand what I did wrong. Why she left me when I needed her most. She was always an egocentric bitch, but for most of my life, I was convinced she really did care about me.

Now I realize that perhaps she never liked me in the first place.

I explain this to Mor, sans some of the sentiment and vulnerability, and he scowls. "That makes no sense. The way she was looking at you, just now... I could see the joy in her eyes, as brief as it was."

"Yeah, well, you, uh, must've seen wrong." My arms wrap tighter around me as the air grows colder. Unfortunately, Will's jacket does nothing to stop the ice coating my heart. "I-I think she was only friends with me all that time because she was friends with Will, and he was always by my side. If it weren't for him, she would've been much worse. Like she is now."

Mor makes a low noise of surrender, pursing his lips and shaking his head. He knows he can't do anything to help thaw the ice between Veronica and I. This is my burden alone to bear. And while I don't need my old friend back as a constant in my life, I would like to make up with her. One way or another.

The only thing is that it requires me to talk to her. Which is something I don't exactly want to do.

Mor and I are uncomfortably silent until, a few minutes later, Macy, Trevor, and Veronica return. Macy is carrying funnel cake a la mode, drizzled in strawberry sauce, and her boyfriend is begrudgingly chewing on a piece. Meanwhile, Veronica holds a tray of hot drinks with little black mixing sticks pointing out.

Awkwardly, we all find seats. I sit on top of the boulder, Mor leaning against its neighboring tree once again; Macy and Trevor rest beneath me, Veronica a few inches away from them. We're all facing the main crowd, and in the distance, there's even a stage set up. I hadn't noticed until then, but they have some local band up there, performing a shaky cover of Thunder.

Veronica hands Macy and Trevor their drinks - an unrecognizable and whipped-cream filled coffee extravaganza for the former, and a simple black tea for the latter. She keeps a latte for herself, and turns to give the last two, surprisingly, to Mor and I.

"I knew you'd bitch at me if I didn't give you anything," she says to me tersely, "So I got you a black coffee. And I don't know what you like, Morgan, but I figured you're depressing enough to probably like the same thing. Here."

With that, she shoves the coffees into my hands and quickly whirls back around to decorate her lantern. I try not to overthink the fact that she remembered my drink preference.

I see Mor giving me a strange look, so I say, What? I like black coffee. It's bitter and dark, just like my soul.

He snorts. I don't doubt that. But I-

I know, I know. You're a soulless grim reaper who doesn't consume any of our unhealthy and disgusting food. I'll keep it for myself. Unless you want to try it...

No.

But now that I've entertained the idea, it's all the more appealing. I want to see what the reaper thinks of the veritable caffeinated bean water. I reach it out to him, and think, Try it! You think you're so big and tough, then drink it!

Mor narrows his eyes, but hesitantly takes the tan cup from my hands, and takes a dainty sip. Immediately, his face contorts into an expression of pain and disgust, and he quickly spits it out to the side. Luckily, none of our companions see this, but they probably hear me softly giggling.

That is absolutely hellish. How do you drink that on a daily basis?

Through exhaustion, willpower, and a lot of sadness.

I make it seem like it's my mental state that causes me to choose to starve myself of sugar and cream. The truth is, I've always liked black coffee, ever since I was a kid. My friends always judged me - Macy's beverages were always more sweets than coffee, Trevor preferred tea, and Will was more of a Gatorade drinker - but I drank it anyways.

The beverage makes me feel slightly warm and fuzzy inside, but not enough to let me relax. Mor makes snarky comments about the quality of the music, which I agree with, and Macy asks for advice on what to write on her lantern, and it's almost normal, but I know it's not. Everything's just slightly off.

Veronica shouldn't be looking at me that way. Trevor should be smiling when his girlfriend talks to him. Will should be the one sitting next to me, his arm slung around my waist, probably eating poutine or tipping back a lemon-lime sports drink like the responsible athlete he was. He'd notice me staring at him, and give me a smile, and ask, "Are you okay?" and if I wasn't, he'd do whatever he could until I was. And I would do the same thing for him. And we would we be happy.

Now, everybody in my party is hiding a layer of misery. I can see it in the stiffness of Veronica's posture, in the tension between Trevor and Macy as they look at each other, in the way Mor narrows his eyes at the crowd. And I can feel it in the beating drum that's constantly pounding against my chest.

Impulsively, I stand, crumpling the now empty coffee cups in my hand. We have an hour left until the lanterns take flight, and now I definitely have the energy to last that long, although I think I may the lacking the mental capacity.

I shuffle over to the nearest trash can, between the taco truck and the vegan pretzel stand, and bin the cups as slowly as I can. Here, the smells of seasoned pork and cinnamon almost start a memory spinning like a film reel in my mind, one of secret adventures to Havana and family members I haven't seen in years, but it's forcefully interrupted by another scent: artificial jasmine and sandalwood.

Whirling around, I see Veronica has come to throw away her trash, too, but that's not the thing that surprises me. It's the calmness in the way she moves, the fact that she doesn't even bother to glare at me. The hair on the back of my neck stands straight up as she reaches past me and tosses the remnants of her latte like it's no big deal.

She's ignoring you, Lila. It's either rudeness or exclusion.

But, to my further confusion, when she sees my cups, she says normally, "You drank all of that coffee already? And you're not, like, bouncing off the walls?"

"Uh, yeah."

I watch her warily as she chuckles. "Man, and I thought Jenna could hold her caffeine. You'd give her a run for her money."

With that, she straightens her collar and walks back to the main path, and I think for a second that maybe her niceness was just a glitch in the matrix or something. Maybe she's a clone! I find the conspiracist in the back of my head thinking. And that was like, her malfunctioning. Like-

"Are you coming?" Veronica asks me, stopping at the path to wait.

"Why do you care?"

"I-" a flicker of darkness in her eyes, and then she crosses her arms and cocks her head. "I don't. Stay in here in the shadows for all I care. See if you can find your vampire brethren."

That's the Veronica I know and loathe. Her sudden change of personality - and shift back - makes my skin go hot. I need to know why she hates me so much. I need to know what I can do to make it better, to get rid of this rift, even if it kills what we have left. I'd rather her be a stranger than have this... thing between us. Clenching my fists, I finally spit out, "What is your problem, Veronica? Why have you been nothing but bitchy towards me since Will's death?"

Her eyes go wide, and her lips part in the smallest acknowledgement of shock. Still, her surprise does nothing but fuel my frustration. It's not like she doesn't realize what's she like. It's almost if she's making a conscious choice to torment me, and I don't understand why.

"We were friends for years. I know we had our issues, but god, I thought - I thought that was part of it. We were like... sisters." I think of my actual sister, Kat, resenting me all those years, feeling lonely and trapped because I traded her for Veronica, and my anger grows. Furrowing my eyebrows, I snap, "But after we both went through tragedy, you just turned against me and kicked me while I was down. And I know everyone grieves differently, but sometimes I think you never grieved at all. Did you ever care about me, or even Will, or was it all just an act that you're finally letting go of?"

The rational side of me expects her to snarl some arrogant comment about my breaking down, and the hopeful side of me expects her to frown and explain - in a very Kat-esque way - that she was just insecure and afraid and in mourning. She does neither. Instead, her face gets all scrunched up... and she starts to bawl.

Veronica's an actress, but this is real, and my heart skips a beat. I can hear it in the way she blubbers, "I'm so sorry, Lila, I'm so sorry, I-" - she furiously wipes away tears with her hand - "I didn't want to be this way, I didn't mean to make you feel worse, I didn't think you cared enough about me to really be affected by what I said-"

"So," I interrupt with deadly slowness, "You acted mean towards me as a test of how much I cared?"

"No!" She shakes her head, her ponytail whipping behind her. "No, God no. I acted mean towards you because I was trying to create distance between us. I was trying to make you hate me, so that you wouldn't try to come to me with your grief about Will."

Does she think that makes her empathetic? I think incredulously. If anything, this makes it worse.

But Veronica's not done. She heaves a breath, trying to steady the quiver in her voice, and says without meeting my eyes, "It was really hard. I wanted so desperately to be friends with you again, and sometimes I'd forget about my act and treat you normally, and it felt right, but I couldn't possibly... do that, or else I know you'd find out what I've been hiding from you."

Hiding? That word is a catalyst as my mind starts to unravel itself. The sounds and sights and smells of the festival zoom out, and I've lost all sense of space and time. In that moment, it's just Veronica and I. She's nearly hysterical, and I'm terrified of what she's about to say, my stomach churning and every inch of my body cooling down like ice about to shatter. "You... were trying to distance me because you were worried I'd find out... a secret?"

"I know it sounds stupid." She sniffles, and rubs her hands against her eyes before her arms drop limply to her sides. "But if you knew the truth, you'd hate me forever. I couldn't... have it like that. I couldn't have you hate me for something genuine, something terrible I actually did wrong. I already despise myself for it."

"Veronica. What are you keeping from me?"

My old friend looks me straight in the eyes. And the story she begins to tell changes every feeling of survivor's guilt I've ever known.

"The night... the night Will died, I went to a party at UVM with a bunch of people from the class of 2016. You know that, of course. I'm sorry I did that in the first place, but anyway, before we went to the party, like an hour before you guys left for prom, we went to Crystal Luddington's parents' house, out on Route 7 near the Super 8 - out at the stop light where you guys crashed. And she brought out her dad's vodka and I got totally wasted. And I went outside, and the old running back Braden Miller was there, and y'know I kinda liked him, and he was competing with some other guy about who could throw rocks the furthest at random things and I was like, 'I have a pretty good arm,' and he was like, 'I bet you can't hit that traffic light over there,' and I'm like, 'Why would I do that, that would cause an accident!' but they kept egging me on so I threw the rock and completely shattered the red light on that street and left it like that and forgot about it. But-"

"They said Will ran a red light." I'm breathing heavy now. "But he didn't, did he? There was no red light to run. If you hadn't broken it, then-"

"Then he would've known to stop for the truck. And you guys wouldn't have crashed. And Will would still be here."

There's no room for an awkward silence, no ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The news sinks deep into me immediately, and I feel like I'm going to completely lose it. 

Oh my god.

The unforgiving knife of the past plunges its way into my back. Veronica disappears from my view, and I feel like I'm falling down into an abyss like Alice through the rabbit hole. Yet, it's not Wonderland that waits for me at the bottom; it's the car accident. Images flash before my eyes, ripped moments fitting back into place: the airbag knocking me back against the seat, the glass shattering and embedding itself into my skin, the sense of my legs being crushed and warm, sticky blood running down into my high heels. This isn't emotion taking over. This is memory, and it's as cruel and merciless a beast as any feeling is.

Spots dance before my eyes, and I can vaguely hear the festival music in the background, but on the foreground all I hear is a piercing ring deep within my head and the vehement beating of my heart in my throat. Without knowing, I push past Veronica and run blindly. I think I pass Macy and Trevor and Mor, and enter the woods behind us, but I can't tell. Soon, I'm falling to my knees in the sand by the shore of Lake Placid, but I don't care. All I know is that my body is trembling and the sky is closing in on me and I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe.

This is the first time I've had a real panic attack since the summertime. Dr. Pavone would be disappointed I'm having such a relapse. I don't know what to think, what to feel. I try to steady myself, and my thoughts go to The Fates Mor has mentioned - did they always fate Will to die young, or did they predict Veronica would be so foolish, and base Will's death off of that?

Oh, God. Just the thought of Will makes me dry heave. As hard as I try, my thoughts can't sort themselves out. It's just the memory of the crash, over and over, like a record groove stuck on repeat. I can almost hear the scratch of the needle. And then it begins to fade, and a torrential downpour of shadows descends upon me so that all I see is black, and all I feel is burning heat-

It's the coldness that snaps me out of it.

Ice begins to spread through the mental fire, and I feel myself coming back into my body. Now, my lungs are pounding for air and my legs are stinging from the sand searing my jeans. I'm bent over in the fetal position, but slowly, I sit up and let my face feel the cool Autumn air. But it's not just an evening chill - it's abnormally, blessedly cold, which can only mean one thing.

My eyes snap open. Mor is standing there, looking down at me with the slightest bit of worry in his own ebony eyes. Reluctantly, he crouches so that we're on the same plane of sight, and says, "Are you alright?"

I take a deep breath, and trying not to shake, ask, "Did you-"

"You were thinking loud enough for me to sense your feelings. I got the general gist of what Veronica told you."

"And is it her fault?" I gulp. "Or was... was Will always fated to die?"

"I'm not a Fate, and I cannot tell you the exact situation. But generally, the Moirai do not just choose for people to die. There is always a reason, a cause that they see coming."

What he means is that it is Veronica's fault. If she hadn't broken the light and let it be, Will wouldn't have died. This whole time, I felt like it was my fault, when in fact none of the guilt was ever on me in the first place. Whether Will was paying attention to the road or not, he wouldn't have been able to know we didn't have the right-of-way.

My whole body sags, and it's then that emotion takes over. As I start to cry, Mor sighs and comes to a kneel beside me. "I apologize that you have to go through this. I wish I could take you places with only people who make you happy, but if I don't do exactly what your list instructs, you'll become a ghost. And you don't want that, do you?"

Like a child, I shake my head ferociously.

"I didn't think so." He looks away for a moment, and I watch him through blurry vision, until my phone - cradled in the pocket of Will's jacket - buzzes.

Numbly, I pull it out, and find Macy's texted me:

Macy DiMaggio: hey, r u ok??? u looked like u were having a panic attack or something

Me: did veronica explain to you what happened

Macy DiMaggio: no, she just came back crying and hasn't talked since.... did u guys get into a fight???

Me: all i know is that i can't do this anymore. i'm really sorry i got you looped into this, but i can't even look veronica in the eyes without panicking. my car keys are on my lanyard by the rock...  feel free to leave whenever you guys want, and take my car. mor will take me home.

I can't possibly drive those nearly 2 hours back to Vermont. I can't even get near Veronica now. Although some juvenile part of me deep inside is relieved that she really does care about me, nothing makes up for the truth of the matter.

God dammit. How am I going to explain this to Will? I ask myself. How can I tell him that our childhood best friend is at least partially responsible for his death?

Strangely, Mor seems just as sad as I do, though I don't say anything to him about it. He has his mouth clamped shut and his eyes on the lake a few feet away. Through the thicket, I can see mountains rise, and above them, the moon is shining brightly. I have to wonder how long I was stuck in my head.

My tears have begun to dry, and I sniffle. The only thing that makes me perk up, just slightly, is the sudden appearance of a pinprick of gold light.

Both Mor and I look up and see that the first lantern has risen, and then second and third and so it goes. A frown appears on the reaper's face, and he says, "Looks like it's already quarter to seven."

"I come all the way to Lake Placid for a damn lantern festival," I muse with a huff, "And I miss the actual lanterns because of a damn panic attack."

"Who says you missed it?" Mor reaches beside him, and lifts up my lantern and lighter. Due to my warped sense of reality, I must not have noticed those sitting there. "I figured you'd still like to set one off. Here's your chance."

Somehow, I find the corners of my lips turning up in the smallest of a smile. "Thank you."

I don't say anything more, because I know the more emotion we show towards each other, the more closed off he will become. The fact that he's already sitting beside me and looking my way with the smallest sense of understanding in his eyes instead of amusement is comforting enough. Gently, I take the lantern from him, and hold it while he clicks open the lighter and sparks the fire inside. And then, I push up, and the paper light flies ever so slowly away, joining the now thousands of other lanterns that have filled the sky.

It's a beautiful sight, and I know if I weren't in the situation I'm in, I'd be in complete awe. It's a million shooting stars, an artificial gold-and-blue nebula, a shattered sun. Somewhere far in the distance, the band has changed its song to something I vaguely recognize as Pink Floyd. The strumming of the guitar is like a magic spell, charming the lights to fly higher, higher.

Will would've loved it.

I feel pathetic. Why did I think I could make up with Veronica? Why did I think this could be okay? No aspect of my present and future could ever replace the vibrancy of my past. Everything is dim without Will, and Veronica's revelation just made it darker.

The only light I have now is Mor, like a gently flickering candle, a sorry attempt at making things better.

Something has changed for the grim reaper and I. Now, death is almost a friend of mine.

As I watch him stare up at the sky with a thoughtful expression on his face, I think about what else I have to do. How much more do I have to go through before I can see Will again? How many winters must I endure until my endless summer comes back to me?

I wish I could give myself an answer. But not every thought can be put into black and white. Sometimes it's neither just forgiveness or a grudge, misery or euphoria; often times, it's a combination of both. And I think that's why memories stick with us, even after years go by. Nothing seems confusing when you look back on it. You can see everything clearly, and know why and how you feel about it.

I hope one day I can see the present that way too.

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A/N: I was gonna publish this on Wednesday but Wattpad was down for me for the past four days so I couldn't :))))) love you Wattpad, so easy to use!

Anywho, plot twist... turns out Veronica isn't just a one-sided mean girl after all. As 2007 Selena Gomez would say, everything is not what it seems.

Until next time... stay awesome!

xoxo, Athena

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