When I joined Arson during the last few minutes of lunch, Matthew wasn't by his side anymore.

"So, who exactly is Matthew? Why does he look familiar?" I asked as I plopped on the seat beside him.

"Well, hello to you too," Arson said, offering me his most Arson-esque smile.

I rolled my eyes, and he shrugged.

"He's Avan's best friend. So you might have met him through your sister."

I nodded.

I tried to think of any social gathering where Riley might have introduced him to me. The only thing that popped was the day I asked Riley about her plans with Avan.

"Oh, he's helping his best friend deal with some stuff. You know how Matt is always so cheery? I think there's a hidden aspect of his life that he wants no one to know about," Riley had whispered, in a tone that indicated she was set on investigating.

"He's entitled to privacy, Riley. Don't do whatever you're thinking about doing. It's most likely a bad idea."

She nodded, then she smiled. "Well, you know me, Ava. Of course, it's a bad idea."

I was about to ask Arson for more information when a girl suddenly filled up the seat on the other side of Arson. I had never seen her before. Tears added glimmer to her light brown eyes, making her easily comparable to an anime character.

"You never called me back," she said to Arson, brushing back her hair dramatically. "I thought we had something, you know. But all you wanted was just a meaningless hookup, right? I can't believe I was that stupid." She topped it all with a sniffle.

The fry Arson was about to eat froze midway to his lips; his eyes slightly widened. "I, uh, I'm not sure I'm following."

A group of girls at the table behind us burst out laughing. The girl giggled and covered her face with her palms.

"I can't believe I did this; I'm so embarrassed. They—" she pointed at her friends— "dared me to do it. I'm sorry."

I smiled at how taken aback and mortified Arson looked. Red tinged his ears and the side of his neck. He looked down at his plate of fries as if he'd never seen it before. He was so different from his prideful self that it was almost adorable.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm Brooklyn."

She looked from Arson to me.

"I'm Avery. He's Arson, and I think you just gave him a heart attack."

She grinned at me. "I think I went a little overboard."

"A little?" I asked, glancing at Arson, who now seemed focused on the single fry he was holding.

"It was nice to meet you guys," she said, rising from the seat.

"By the way, Brooklyn," Arson called after her as she walked away, recovering from his surprise. "If we did ever hook up—" he allowed himself a smirk when she turned around— "I wouldn't be stupid enough not to call you back." He even added in a wink.

Blood rushed to her cheeks, coloring them pink, and she hurried off to her friends.

"You just couldn't let her win, could you?" I nudged him in the ribs.

Brooklyn almost had the upper hand, but he had probably been thinking all along about something clever or flirty to get back at her.

Arson grinned, before whispering mysteriously, "I don't lose, Ava."

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"Want me to get you home?" Arson asked as we walked together along the parking lot.

"I was planning on stopping by the cemetery to see Riley."

He nodded, unlocking the car. "Come on."

I climbed onto the passenger seat, fastened my seat belt, and watched him pull on the gear knob. He cautiously made his way out of the parking lot onto the main road. His moves had the awkward stiffness of a brand new driver. He wasn't fond of distracting conversations while driving, so we stayed quiet until we reached Memorial Park Rd. He slowed to a stop on the side of a curb by the entrance of the cemetery.

"Want me to wait for you?" he asked, leaning over his rolled-down window to glance at the sky. "It looks like it's about to rain."

"I'll be fine. It's a short walk home from here." I pulled on the knob and pushed my car door open with my shoulder. "Thanks for the ride."

"Enjoy your weekend."

I shrugged in response. He smiled before driving away.

It was only three in the afternoon, but the sun was already hiding behind the clouds, tinting the leaves of a subtle and pale tawny orange. I came to this place so often that I made my way around with ease, taking the right turns at the right times until I reached Riley's gravesite.

Someone had carelessly dropped a backpack on the ground, mere feet away from the grave.

An onyx-haired guy was sitting on the grass with his back resting against the gravestone. Avan Carter's eyes were shut; he almost looked peaceful.

Out of all possible places to take a nap, a cemetery wouldn't be my first choice.

I knelt by his side, debating whether or not to wake him up.

"Hey," I finally said, barely touching his shoulder.

He flinched, and his eyes flickered open. I instantly let go of his shoulder.

"Sorry. Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I fell asleep." He stood up, grabbed his backpack off the ground. "Thanks for waking me up."

His eyes squinted in exhaustion; it seemed to require substantial effort to keep them open.

"See you around," I said, and he waved, walking towards the exit.

I watched his retreating figure before kneeling by Riley's grave on a pile of crunchy leaves.

Dad and I had built a small wood panel at the foot of her gravestone. Every time Dad and I visited Riley, we wrote on post-it notes the things we wanted to tell her and pinned them on the panel.

Now, multicolored cards covered almost every inch of wood. Rain and sun drove away most of the writings on the cards, but the point wasn't to make them eternal anyway.

Writing simply brought out the feelings we were all bottling up inside.

Taking out a blue sticky note and a thin Sharpie marker, I wrote down the words that I had been thinking for so long but that I had never let out: I wish it had been me.

I scanned the panel and found an empty corner on the bottom left. Leaning over slightly to make sure the note stuck, I noticed an unfamiliar handwriting.

It had sloppily scribbled most of the notes on the bottom of the panel. Most of the sentences were now smudged in ink, rain, and mud. One of the most recent and still readable cards said, "There always seems to be less air available when I think of you". I had never seen that handwriting, but my thoughts went directly to Avan.

I had somehow managed to convince myself that Avan was doing okay—or that at least he would be soon enough. I made everything about me, and I believed the best way to get over my grief was to fight it from the inside. Maybe that was the wrong approach. I avoided spending time with Dad, thinking it was better for both of us, but that only deepened our wounds.

Maybe building stronger relationships with my dad and Avan and others was the only way for us to stop letting our grief take control of our lives.

Riley had such a gift for holding everyone together. She was there for Dad when Mom left. She knew that it was so much easier to get through the hard times as a family. Though that thought should have brought me peace—or at least a resolution to stay strong for my dad and to follow Riley's example—all I could think about was that it should have been me.

She was the perfect joyful soul the world needed, and she always kept on a bright smile no matter what... and then, there was me...

I didn't know when the tears started, but now they were streaming down my face like a waterfall. I almost couldn't feel my nails digging into my thighs through my jeans. Hunched over in an awkward position, with my legs tucked under me and my face mere inches from the ground, I was unaffected by the rain that had started to pour down on me, drenching my clothes.

It did not take away my focus on Riley; if anything, it merely reminded me of how much she loved the rain. Struggling to sit up, I let the rain wash the tears off my face.

I was patting the grass all around me, looking for the Sharpie that I had probably left uncapped in the rain when the drops suddenly stopped. I looked up, confused, and detected an umbrella blocking off the rain. Through my blurry and droopy eyes, I made out the figure holding up the umbrella for me.

He gave me a small smile and bent down slightly to place the marker in my hand.