Chapter One

Every day was a reminder that she was no longer there. Every day was a reminder that there was no justice in the universe, not really. Because if there was, it would've been her that died, not Alex. Alex, with her wonderful, big brown eyes, her Labrador-like, everyone is welcome personality, her bright, it'll all be okay outlook on life. If there was a God, if there was justice, if there was karma, anything like that, Alex would still be here. And Gracie would be dead in the ground, or scattered off the coast of some beach, after a sombre, somewhat uncomfortable funeral service, one half of her relatives wouldn't even attend. Such a kind soul, they would say, so caring, shy but friendly. She'll be missed.

Gracie stood over Alex's grave, looking down at the photo placed by the flowers. It was one from years ago, before Alex and Gracie met. Alex's hair was shorter, lighter, and she was surrounded by her family, on some camping trip, a tent visible in the background. They were all stood in a line, Alex, her mum and dad, her two brothers. They all had their arms around each other, all of them flashing smiles, all of those smiles genuine, except for Alex's smile. When Alex was happy, really happy, all her teeth were bared to the world, and her eyes would always be shut. She could never keep her eyes open when she properly smiled. This smile, Alex had given it just to get the job done, to avoid her mother moaning later on. Her eyes were wide open, her teeth almost totally covered by her lips. It had been out of necessity, nothing more. And that was what made Gracie hate Alex's family the most. Necessity.

They hadn't wanted her at the funeral. That much was clear, from the looks Gracie had gotten all day, from how Gracie was referred to as Alex's "close friend" in the priest's speech. Alex's parents were concerned with one thing, and one thing only, and that was keeping face. Everyone in town knew about Alex and Gracie. They didn't like it, didn't think it should have existed, but everyone knew. Gracie would have to be at the funeral, and so one day, three weeks after Alex had died, her mother had turned up at Gracie's house, for a "brief word" about the funeral. "Brief," in Gracie's opinion, should have been replaced with "spiteful," but that didn't matter, not really. She had been invited, but it came with conditions.

"You sit at the back. No talking, no eulogy. You say the prayers, you sing the hymns, and you come to the wake. That's it." Mrs Miller's teeth had been gritted, and she spoke as if each word was causing her pain. Good, Alex had thought. "You don't mention the...funny business, you and Alex got up to. The temptations. It'll be a Christian service. If you follow all of that, you can come." At the time, Gracie had swallowed all of her grief, all of her hate for Alex's mother, all of the resentment, and nodded, and at the funeral, and the wake, she followed those instructions to the letter. There was no mention of "funny business" nor was there any speech by Gracie, on how much Alex meant to her. She was just another face at the funeral, someone come to pay their respects. And that tore at Gracie.

Alex had loved her. Any doubt she'd had of that was cleared, when, after inviting Gracie to the funeral, Alex's mother had given her a letter, one Alex had written to be handed to Gracie, should anything happen to her. A year ago, if Gracie had known, she would've laughed at that. Why write a letter now? They had all of their lives to spend together. But that was Alex, sentimental, romantic Alex.

"I didn't deserve you, Alex. Neither did they. No one deserved you. You deserved better." Gracie half-heartedly blew a kiss at the grave, and left, tears welling up. She shouldn't be crying, not now, not a year later, according to her mother. She should move on, get over it, know how to deal with these feelings by now. But Gracie liked consistency. She'd cried every time before, whenever she visited Alex's grave. No point in stopping now. It wasn't like there was anything else to do.