I pushed my sunglasses further up my nose, trying to block out the sun's rays as a priest stood by the casket. My right heel dug into the muddy ground beneath me. "Goddammit." I bent down and slipped off the shoes, holding them by the straps. My toes wiggled their way into the mud and I was reminded of last summer's trip to the beach.

"Careful, Lyla!" I called after her as she ventured further toward the jetty above the slamming waves. She waved back to me as I took out my camera, snapping a few pictures of her before she jumped off of the black rocks. I ran towards the edge of the jetty and waited for her to resurface. When she did, her signature giant smile covered her face. She leaned back to float and gently swam through the water without a care in the world.

"Jump in, Charlotte!" I heard her and I shook my head, capturing a last photo of her smiling face.

The photo sat next to her tombstone.

Lyla Rose Porter

June 25, 2001 - March 25, 2019

Daughter, Sister, Friend

"If anyone has anything they would like to say about Lyla now, I invite you to step forward."

I gulped down the remainder in my flask and raised my hand. After dropping my heels on the ground, I stumbled forward next to the priest. "I'm Charlotte, Lyla's best friend. We met when we were five, or was it four. She took me in and gave me the coveted position of her 'best friend.' Me. A kindergarten loser with giant glasses that took up half of my face. She helped me become who I am now, but I could never be like her. She was a superhero and I was merely a sidekick. I looked up to her. I wanted her life. Her parents are still together," I took a breath and glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Porter who were weeping, their younger daughter, Quinn, tears streaming down her face. "She was seventeen and had already been to thirteen different countries. She had a full ride to her dream school this fall. I guess what hurts the most is that my best friend who seemed to have her shit together, didn't. My hero was a fraud and I felt betrayed. But who gives a fuck, right? She's still dead." I glanced down at the rose pink casket waiting to be lowered in the ground and then switched my focus to Wesley. He had his arm over Quinn's shoulders, hugging her close. "She killed herself. She didn't care about any of us, so why the hell are we even here," I took a deep breath to begin my next rant, but was pulled away from the ceremony by the arm to a nearby cluster of trees.

"What the hell are you doing, Charlotte?" I could see Wesley's angry glare through the tinted lenses of my sunglasses. I started laughing, hiccuping in between. He pulled off my glasses. "Shit. Charlotte, are you drunk?"

I knew my eyes were bloodshot and I was struggling to stand up straight. Wesley braced my shoulder and held me upright. "Obviously," I responded, trying to pulled his hand off of my shoulder.

"Of course you are, Charlotte. You just had to ruin this and make it all about you."

I scoffed and sniffled. "Excuse me? That is my best friend in that casket. I'm allowed to be upset."

"You're not upset, Charlotte, you're angry. I get it. Trust me I get it. I loved Lyla. We had plans and she threw them all away, but you don't see me talking shit about her in front of all of her mourning friends and family. For once, can you just not be a bitch?"

"You're right. I'll leave," I finally managed to pull his hand off me and took off towards the parking lot next to the cemetery in my bare feet. Halfway down the sloping hill to the lot, I lost my footing and landed on the ground with a thud. My black dress was no doubt covered in mud.

"What are you doing, Lyla?" Wesley jogged down to me and picked me up.

"I'm leaving like you want me to."

"You can't drive home in your state." he stood in front of me.

"I rode my bike," I glanced at the toppled over blue bike in the lot. "Don't worry. I'm not your responsibility."

"Sit down, give me five minutes and I'll drive you home, okay?"

I begrudgingly sat down back in the mud as he headed back to the ceremony. My fingers traced through the mud, spelling out Lyla's name.

"Make sure you get enough water, Charlotte, the mud has to stick together." I poured more water onto the current mud pie I was making, falling behind Lyla. She carefully added a garnish of grass on top of the pie and finished shaping it. I looked down at my creation and saw the watery mess in front of me and smashed it with my fist out of anger.

"I give up, Ly," I declared, wiping my muddy hands on my jeans.

"Oops," Lyla said as her right foot stomped on her mud pie. "Guess I'll have to start over. Let's make this one together." She patted the dry dirt beside her and handed me a cup of water. "Slowly add water, Char."

My hands were covered in mud by the time Wesley returned. He looked down at me with a look of disgust and humor. He tossed my heels at me and I stood up after putting them on. I slowly made my way down the hill, setting my sight on the solid concrete. After Wesley led me to his car, he tugged off his suit jacket and placed it on the passenger seat.

"Sit on this," he told me then leaned over me and buckled me in. "And keep your hands to yourself, Charlie."

He softly closed the car door, picked up my bike, stuffed it into the trunk of his car, and walked over to the driver's side. "What's your address, Charlotte?" I heard him ask but was too tired to speak.

"Charlotte, wake up," someone said as he prodded my arm with his finger. "We're at my house. Let's go."

"Why are we here?" I asked, slowly lifting my head from its resting position against the window.

"You don't have your license in your purse, I don't know where you live." I nodded and wiped the drool from my chin, only to pull my hand back to see it covered in mud.

"Come on. I'll clean you up and you can sleep off your hangover here."

My mom wasn't worried where I was. She assumed I was still at the funeral.

"Thank you," I muttered as he ushered me through the front door. Wesley led me up the hardwood stairs into a bathroom.

"You know how a shower works. I'll set you out some clothes outside the door when you're done, okay?" I nodded but scrunched my eyebrows.

"Why are you being so nice to me? We've never been close before." He shrugged and grabbed a towel from the linen closet.

"We both lost Lyla." I silently nodded and waited for him to leave the bathroom before getting ready for a shower.

I quickly shed my clothes and turned the water to scalding hot. The water flowed over me and I found myself beginning to sober up. The shampoo bottle was empty when I squeezed it and I turned off the water, wrapping the towel around me.

"Wesley," I said as I opened the bathroom door and wandered into the hallway, my hair dripping water onto the floor.

"What's up?" Wesley asked when he got to the stair landing. His eyes focused on anything but me when he saw me standing in a towel.

"Sorry," I instinctively wrapped the towel tighter around me. "The shampoo's empty. Do you have anymore?"

"I'll go check," he said, jogging back downstairs. The hallway outside the bathroom was filled with pictures. Family pictures and almost all of them had Lyla in them. A few minutes, he reappeared holding a bottle of shampoo still with the plastic covering over the cap. "Lyla was somehow able to weasel her way into my family," Wesley laughed, standing by me, looking at the same photo on the wall. "Even my dad, an army colonel, wasn't immune to her charm and smile." My eyes ran over the photo again, re-examining every member of the Baldwin family's face. Wesley looked nostalgic when I caught him from the corner of my eye.

"You really loved her, didn't you?" I asked, my voice soft and weak.

"Of course. I thought we were endgame, you know?" He sounded endearing, but I could hear bitterness seeping into his tone. "She had this way of making you feel like you were the only person that mattered. I was lucky enough to experience that. When she looked at me, my heart stopped. I couldn't form words or even thoughts. And it sucks because I can barely remember what we talked about or what made us laugh. I can only remember how she made me feel."

Like he suddenly remembered I was standing in a towel, he took a deep breath and quietly removed the cover on the shampoo bottle. "Shit, sorry. Here." He handed me the shampoo bottle and I silently thanked him, closely the door behind me when I returned to the bathroom.

Resuming the shower helped me finish sobering up as if the conversation with Wesley wasn't enough. I wrung out my curls with the towel and silently dressed in some of Lyla's old clothes she had left at the Baldwin house.

My bare feet padded down the stairs leading into the kitchen. Wesley hovered over the stove, stirring the pot of what smelled like chicken noodle soup. "Thank you, Wesley." He turned from the stove and offered me a close lipped smile. "I'll see you around, okay?" It was an empty question. One of obligation and I highly doubted we would talk after everything that happened. I collected my heels by the front door and left, detaching my bike from the rack on his car.

Holding my shoes by the straps in one hand, I used the other to steer the bike as I started down the street. Tears formed as soon as the back tire was off the driveway. But they didn't have time to fall when I heard my name being called after me. I squeezed the brake and rested a barefoot on the pavement.

"God, you bike fast," Wesley breathed as he caught up with me. "Let's find out what happened to make Lyla do what she did."

I was taken aback by his proposition and shook my head quickly. "Let's let her rest in peace, Wesley. Don't psychoanalyze her actions. Finding out would only cause more harm than good."

"How can you say that, Charlotte? She's your best friend, don't you want to know why she did what she did?"

"Drop it, Wesley. It doesn't matter."

"This was a waste of time. I'll do it myself." He turned and walked back toward his house.

Despite knowing better, I dropped my kickstand and shoes and chased after him.

"Okay. Let's do it. But don't let this change the way you feel about her, okay?" His face contorted into confusion. "She loved you so much." He still looked confused but he simply nodded. Right then and there, I saw all the love he had for her in such a small gesture. He knew the risk of finding out. He knew he could be hurt, but he didn't care. I knew that would change eventually because I knew why she did what she did.