❝The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.❞

-Looking for Alaska by John Green

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In a stupor, Veronica lets me into her house, proactively takes the umbrella from me and shakes it out, and leads me past the living room into to the kitchen. My eyes pass over the interior of the house, taking in every change - as few and far between as they are. Same wooden counters and white cabinets. Same old wedding picture of Veronica's parents Vernon and Sharon hanging in the hall, the latter looking as arrogant as always. While Vernon works as a much beloved special ed teacher at the elementary school, Mrs. Sharon Lourdes is the chairwoman of the Ashdown PTO, and she's been finding ways to get her daughter to the top since kindergarten. I'm relieved she's nowhere to be seen this afternoon.

Yet, no amount of minor relief about the absence of a bitchy PTO mom can alleviate the feelings I have about having to talk to Veronica.

I shouldn't be coming over to her house, I think to myself. She should be coming over to mine, begging me for forgiveness...

Okay, perhaps that's a bit much, considering it's not like she caused this whole mess on purpose. Still, I can't help but feel angry at her, even as she looks at me with juvenile confusion in her eyes.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asks. Her golden hair is tied back into a braid, and she starts to fidget with it as I stare at her.

"I... want to talk about what happened at the festival. I want us to get on the same page. Find a way to make play practice not as awkward, I guess." Veronica's shoulders sag, making the gray camisole she's wearing wrinkle against her skin. Before I can stop myself, I continue, "Talking about the crash sent me into a panic attack. To know that you'd been lying to me all this time... it made me really angry. And it hurts even more to know what you were lying about."

"That's why I didn't tell you. And I didn't mean to give you a panic attack, Lila. I didn't mean-" her voice cracks- "I didn't mean to kill Will. I'm so, so sorry. After the news of the crash came out, Braden and his friend forced me not to tell anybody. We-we could be charged with involuntary manslaughter."

I feel like I'm being cruel now, explaining my anger when she obviously feels so guilty, but if I don't let it all out now, it'll never come out. So, quickly, I say, "Braden Miller is a jackass. You could've done so much better than him. You shouldn't have tried to impress him, you shouldn't have broken the light, you, you-"

I'm interrupted. Veronica's crying like she did at the festival, falling to the floor as if all her energy has been drained. Hesitantly, I kneel down beside her. The tiles are freezing cold, just like my skin; outside, the rain is somehow heavier, now coming down in sheets that shatter against the windows.

"I hate myself so fucking much. My self-loathing could supply the whole town if they only knew," Veronica finally confesses, choking back a sob. She starts to un-clench her fists slowly, before her anger bursts again and she pounds the floor. "Some part of me wants to go to the cops and confess, to get charged with reckless manslaughter and go to prison like I should. But I can't do that to my parents, because they'd almost surely get fired, and I can't let them be responsible for my mistake. Everybody in this goddamn town is vindictive, and I understand them being vindictive towards me. But my dad is beloved by the kids at the elementary school, and I can't-"

Apparently, what she can't do is get her thoughts out rationally, because the fickle stream of tears interrupts again. Watching her weep, my anger starts to dissipate into pure bitterness.

Disenchanted, I ask, "How drunk were you?"

"Drunk enough that I don't remember any of the night after that. I wasn't even the one who texted Macy. Crystal Luddington had to do it for me. That's why you didn't get the memo." She shakes her head fervently, but keeps her eyes on the floor. "After the light broke, all the guys cheered and Crystal... or was it Mikayla? I don't even know. One of the girls came over and pulled me away and I fell into her arms, and that's where the memory gets too blurry. The next clear thing I remember was shuffling home at like 4 am, tripping on my way up the stairs, and almost waking my parents."

Even as intoxicated as she was, she's right as far as the crime goes. Based on what I remember from my 10th grade civics class, there's a good chance she could be indicted for some sort of involuntary manslaughter, though it would blur the lines of what kind. Is this recklessness (i.e. getting drunk and breaking a stoplight), or criminal negligence (i.e. neglecting to tell proper authorities about said stoplight)? I don't know. I'm no lawyer.

Some resentful part of me knows I should want that for Veronica, should still be mad about the horror she caused. But as I observe her shoulders rise and fall with every sob, her mascara running all the way down her jaw, I realize I don't want to see her behind bars. In one way or another, she's the only person who understands how I feel.

In a final attempt to make her understand my pain, I start to stutter, "M-maybe you should. Maybe you-"

Shit. What am I doing? This isn't resentment at all, this is just an echo of my grief. It's the same grief that shows in the way Veronica is looking at me. And it's in that moment that I give up, too.

My whole body collapses, and it's a blur as I begin to cry. Tears come sluicing out, and I scrunch my face up and shut my eyes tightly to try to stop, but it's no use, because Veronica's still crying too. And like the young versions of ourselves are still somewhere hidden deep inside us, we both move forward and fall into each other's arms.

Friends are supposed to be shoulders to cry on, but it becomes more complicated when the friend in question was once like a sister to you and is now responsible for your late boyfriend's death and you're both completely torn up about it.

"I'm so sorry, Lila," says Veronica after a moment, as she sits up a little and looks straight at me. "If I could turn back time, I wouldn't even go to the party. Me and you and Macy would've gotten together, and I would've done our make-up and she would've done our hair, and Will and Trevor would've picked us up, and we could've had a normal prom. And Will would be here today. If I had one wish in this world, it would be to bring Will back, but I wouldn't talk to him. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve you. I never did."

I can't face her, so I sniffle and keep my eyes on the cracks in the grout in the floor. "I used to think that too, you know," I murmur, "When I was going through my emo phase in middle school, I would watch him play football and help the midget team win all their games. And then I'd see you, looking flawless, singing your heart out on the stage, and, god, even Macy, painting all of her beautiful art, and I'd think, 'I don't deserve these people. They should have a better friend in their lives. Not me.'"

The anecdote is an ironic analogy to me, showing that once, my worries were much more insignificant. It's my way of saying, How the hell did we end up here? But Veronica misunderstands me, biting her lip before saying, "You know Will loved you. We all did. But Will, god... he really loved you, Li. He wanted to marry you. He told us all so."

"He did?"

Weakly, she nods. "Yeah. He said that Trevor would be his best man, and then me and Macy used to argue over who would be the maid of honor. I think it was kind of arrogant of us to assume we had the position in the bag, but we all looked forward to it anyway. It could've been great."

With this revelation, my life passes before my eyes in almost an instant, but instead of showing a crash on May 29, 2017, it shows my group of friends attending prom like normal, before flashing to the future that may have been. The thought of wearing a beautiful dress and walking down the aisle and seeing an older Will waiting for me sends a shiver down my spine. It could've been great.

"The crash gave me PTSD," I blurt out.

I don't know where it came from, but as I snap my head up and stare into Veronica's blurry red eyes, I feel the need to finally be open about my mental illness. If she can share her secrets, than I can too.

"It did?"

"Yeah. It used to be a lot worse. For the first couple weeks, I was so on edge I had to lock myself in my room. But it's gotten better, I guess."

My old therapist, Dr. Pavone, told me once that if I took my meds and pushed through daily life, my illness could get better in time. One day, I'd only have issues when faced with very specific triggers. I wouldn't be so constantly tense, wouldn't be pushed down by every little bad thing that happens. I never believed her, of course. If you're at rock bottom and can't see a single source of light, it's hard to believe the sun exists.

My sun does exist. It just died 4 months ago.

"It's because of that PTSD that this is so impossible for me to do." I close my eyes, knowing if I keep this inside any longer, my heart will burst. My voice is weak and shaky, barely there, a ghost of what it once was, as I explain, "If I'm being honest with you, there's always going to be some part of me that sees you as a villain, because even if you understand my grief for Will, you'll never understand the way this fucked up my mind. But I know the longer I hold a grudge against you, the more miserable we're both going to be. So I'm going to try to give you a second chance. No more bitter stares in play practice, no more crying behind each other's backs. I know that's what Will would've wanted. I can't forgive you all the way, but if Will were here, he'd... he'd forgive you. I know it."

Veronica shakes her head again, and I start to wonder if her neck hurts. "You don't have to do this, Lila. If Will were here, there'd be nothing to forgive."

"Still, I'm sure if you went up to Heaven and asked him, he would welcome you with open arms. Because that's the type of person Will was. He always saw straight to the heart of person. He could find the good in everything."

Even in some dramatic, wannabe stage actress like me, I think to myself, Or in an ice queen who can't seem to ever get things right.

"I'm never going to be able to make this up to you. Or to Trevor, or Mr. and Mrs. Nyquist, or myself," Veronica leans her head against the closest cabinet and stares up at the ceiling. Her skin has gained a ghostly pallor, as if she's about to faint. "I feel like I've ruined everything."

"You have," I admit, and she winces, but then I say, "But we all make mistakes. You think Will was absolutely perfect? You know he wasn't. He was the most stubborn person I've ever met. Remember when he refused for months to participate in the 5th grade graduation ceremony because he was so determined to not grow up?"

This is the first time since his death I've acknowledged that Will was human too. I don't like to think about his flaws, even the minor ones. But instead of scowling like I would, Veronica smiles sadly at the memory.

"Oh, yeah, I remember. He was so worried our friend group would break apart in middle school. He didn't want anything to change." We share a soundless, unhappy laugh. "Remember when I first met you guys? My mom told me I needed to make friends, so I went up to you on the playground and asked, 'You guys live near the cornfield right?'"

"Oh god, yeah, of course I remember," I reply with a nod, rolling my eyes at the more embarrassing memories of my youth. "I'd never seen you before, so I was like, 'How do you know that? Are you stalking us?!" And then Will had to put his hand over my mouth so I would stop shouting, 'Stranger danger'!"

Like my first meeting with Will, it's a very vivid memory in my mind. They teased me about it for years afterwards as one of our first inside jokes. The fact that Veronica and I are talking about it now like it's so far away shows how deep our rift has gotten over the months. It aches to know I'll never hear the joke again as anything but a sad reminiscence.

"I was so dramatic, even then," I add with a frown.

"You're not dramatic, Lila," Veronica denies. "You just feel everything so deeply. That's why you were never as ambitious as the rest of us. You loved everything you already had so much that you didn't need anything more."

The girl sits up straight, criss-cross like we're in elementary school circle time, and slowly, I follow. Soon, we're facing each other, searching for any other sign of unresolved problems and heartbreaking secrets. But Veronica's eyes contain nothing but regret.

I guess the only way to melt the Ice Queen was to give her some of my fire. After confessing everything we had to confess, after showing her how angry I am and why that is... she almost seems like the girl she used to be, before she was a blubbering mess or a heartless bitch. I wish I could return to who I used to be, too, but I suppose I have to take this one step at a time.

My old friend lifts her quivering chin and sets her stare determinedly on me.

"All I know now is, I'm going to live how he'd want me to. No more hiding my secrets deep inside, no more lashing out with anger, no more arrogance," Veronica pushes all of her messy hair out of her face. In the light of the now-slowing rain, it's more a graying blonde than its usually vibrant gold. "I just wish I could see him again. I wish I could tell him how much I cared about him. How sorry I am."

I know that soon, I will see him again, and be able to tell him exactly that. And although the thought of seeing Will makes my heart soar, especially with this newfound story to tell him, for once, part of me feels partially sad, too, because now I know there's someone out there who desperately wants to see him as much as I do.

Mentally noting Veronica's apology, I force myself to remember that once, we were the three musketeers of the Ashdown outskirts. When I see my best friend again up in heaven, I have to mention our third best friend, too. Who would Athos and Aramis be without Porthos, or vice versa?

When I look at Veronica again, there's still a large hint of bitterness in my heart. I haven't quite fully forgiven her yet, but somewhere in my mind, I know there's a chance for it to happen, one day.

I don't know when I'm going to die. But I'm determined to end all the misery in my life that I can before I no longer have a chance.

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With the general cloud of bad luck that seems to hang over Ashdown, only a minute or so later comes in Sharon Lourdes. Her hair, a more artificial yellow than that of her daughters, is cut in a wave that would make Farrah Fawcett proud, and she's wearing a denim jacket, a white blouse, and patterned LuLaRoe leggings. The horrified look she gives us when she sees Veronica and I sitting plainly on her kitchen floor makes me want to die even more.

"Lila!" She exclaims with a cracking pretense of enthusiasm, like a robot beginning to malfunction. "What.. are you..-"

"I was, uh, just leaving." Instantly, I stand up, nod at Veronica, and smile as politely as I can at Sharon. The only way to tame the beast is to flatter it, so I say, "You look nice, Mrs. Lourdes. Are those new leggings?"

Sharon's taken aback by my compliment, but eagerly accepts it, touching her hand to her heart and saying, "Why thank you, Lila. And they are. They're from LuLaRoe, and I got them from Amy Costello at the last district carnival-"

Before she can try to get me to join her white suburban mom pyramid scheme, I start to back up, before I spin on my heel and rapidly duck out of their kitchen, back down the hall, and out the front door, grabbing my umbrella along the way. The minute you get an Ashdown mom talking about whatever business they're obsessed with - one year it was Mary Kay, the next Thirty-One, the one after that Pampered Chef -, they won't stop until you buy their entire inventory. And I have no desire for patterned leggings.

My mom's never been involved in those kinds of things, and I wish I could say it was because she was special, but the truth is, she's just never had the time. Between carting Kat around to all her sporting events to tracking what seems like every single weather event in the world, she's always caught up in something. Just like me and my thoughts, I suppose.

The rain has slowed considerably, down to a steady pitter-patter that fills the air with petrichor. In the skies, clouds are starting to break, but there is still no sign of the sun. It's all just shades of gray, completely overcast. No longer dark, but not yet light.

While I'm making my way back to the driveway, Mor appears next to me. My heart is already racing too fast for it to stop and skip a beat.

"That was a mess," I tell him, before he can say something snarky. "I'm a mess. You ever notice that?"

"I have, in fact. And I've commented on it more than a few times, but I see you don't listen to what I say," Mor replies. He takes the umbrella from me so it can accommodate his skeletal height, and continues, "Considering you're not crying right now, I'd say it went decently enough, though?"

I touch my fingers to my eyes and see that my tears have, indeed, all dried up. "I don't know. I guess? She told me how sorry she was and then we cried a lot and talked about Will and then her mom came in. I think we both thought we'd ended it okay, but now that I look back on it..."

Mor snorts softly. "You're overthinking it, Lila. If you say it went alright, then it most likely went alright."

He's right, of course. It feels like, lately, everybody's right except for me. Mor knows my future, Kat is bitter about my past, Macy isn't as careless as I thought, and most of all, more people are mourning Will than I believed. For a moment, I think about his plaque at the entrance to the gym, commemorating the way he changed the Ashdown football program forever. Is that just for appearances, or did the school actually, genuinely miss him?

"You're overthinking it, Lila," Mor echoes in a sing-songy voice as we come to a stop at the end of the driveway.

"Well, sorry!" I snap. "All the rain and darkness in this town gets to me really easily. It's hard not to overthink it."

Mor considers me for a moment with an unidentifiable expression before a spark of light forms in his 8-ball eyes. "Do you want me to take you somewhere?"

Instantly, my heart slows to a manageable pace. The thought of going somewhere, anywhere, and getting out of Vermont appeals immensely to the side of me that just wants to run away from it all. Coyly, I reply, "Depends on where the somewhere is."

"Your list mentions you wanted to snowboard somewhere in the Alps, and I have just the place."

"That'd be nice," I admit. I deserve a reward for the muddle of a make up I just forced myself through. "And, uh, thank you. For pushing me to make up with her. Even if it was on the list."

I expect him to say It's my job or some variation thereof, but for once, all he replies with is a simple, "You're welcome."

Perhaps things will take a more positive turn as I near the end of my life. Perhaps I have nothing to overthink. I've become closer with Kat and Macy, more or less made up with Veronica, and successfully befriended a Grim Reaper himself. If I can do all that, than I can survive a little bit longer without Will.

But I still miss him.

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A/N: Lol so much for shorter chapters :I Although this was on the longer side, I hope everyone read all the way through. This was an important chapter in Lila's (and Veronica's) characterization!

Until next time, positive vibes! Stay awesome (:

xoxo, Athena

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