Santana Lopez was the only person that showed up at Brittany S. Pierce's funeral. There were no flowers, no sermon, and absolutely no one else. Just Santana, staring at the cavernous hole in the ground in which the blonde had been buried. She sprinkled a handful of autumn leaves onto the casket, ten feet below her, and made a decision. She hopped into the ground, laid right next to Brittany and took ten sleeping pills.
"Sannn!" Brittany whispered, "What are you doing?"
Santana's eyes remained closed.
"Now we don't have any Tic Tacs left…" Brittany mumbled to herself. She pushed the leaves off of the rest of her body, sat up, and turned to the side to look down at her best friend. "You're supposed to avenge my death, San!"
Santana lazily opened her eyes, looking curiously at Brittany. "Britt, this story is so unrealistic. There would be, like, hundreds of people at your funeral and millions of flowers and I would NOT avenge your death."
"Why not?" Brittany asked, getting up and walking over to her script. She picked it up and rifled through the pages to see how far they had gotten into it this time. Brightly colored leaves still stuck to her clothes.
"Because." Santana said. "Then I would probably go to jail."
"So you would eat Tic Tacs and climb in my grave with me instead?" Brittany asked, scrunching up her nose. "That's gross and creepy, San."
Santana stayed lying on the chilly grass, continuing to cover herself with leaves. "They're sleeping pills." She answered, wiggling her fingers at Brittany. "Help me with my grave, Britt".
"San, that's not how it goes, you're supposed to catch the guy who murdered me and then take him to the police so he can rot in jail."
"Yea…and what good would that do? You would still be dead." Santana looked up at Brittany.
The blonde sighed, letting go of her script and letting it float to the ground. "San, how am I ever gonna become a world-famous writer if you argue with all my stories?" Brittany sat back down next to Santana while the brunette proceeded to cover her lap with more leaves.
"You're only thirteen, Britt. You have lots of time…want some Tic Tacs?" Santana asked, shaking the almost empty container.
Brittany was distracted from her thoughts by the rattling of the only two Tic Tacs left. "Thanks," she said popping them into her mouth. "Minty."
Santana looked at Brittany, still arranging leaves along her lower half.
"What do you think the ending should be then?" Brittany asked
Santana paused. "Well, first of all, you would have never been murdered in the first place" she answered confidently.
Brittany raised a quizzical eyebrow at her.
"I would have kicked the dude in the balls before he got anywhere near you." She explained.
Brittany smiled. "But I was supposed to be walking home alone at night, and the killer came and killed me for my purse."
Santana rolled her eyes. "But, see, that would have never even happened because I would never let you walk home alone at night, duh."
Brittany looked over at her script, lying splayed out on the grass a few feet away. "San, you live in California and I live in Florida." Brittany said.
"That's another problem."
"Whyyyy." Brittana moaned
"Because." Santana said. "I would never live across the country from you."
"But we're not friends in the story."
"Another problem." Santana sat up and pulled a leaf out of her hair. "We're always gonna be friends, Britt."
"You're impossible." Brittany laughed. This wasn't the first time that Santana had stubbornly protested the ending of one of her stories.
"You're impossible." Santana stuck out her tongue at the blonde. "Why does one of us always have to die?"
"It's dramatic." Brittany stated.
"It's depressing." Santana remarked.
Brittany moved her foot, lightly kicking Santana in the shoe. "San, I need this story to be ready in a week. I want to submit it to the writing competition!"
"Then name the characters something elseeeee." Santana whined.
"Does it really bother you that much when one of us dies?" Brittany asked.
Santana nodded. "It's sad."
"Well duhhh." Brittany giggled, picking up a bright red leaf and placing it delicately on Santana's shoulder. "Sadness wins competitions."
"Can't you write a happy story where we, like, win a million dollars and fly off on a rainbow-pooping unicorn or something?"
Brittany huffed and stood up. "That's ridiculous."
Santana pouted before also slowly rising to her feet.
Brittany gave the now-empty Tic Tac container to Santana. "Would you really get in my grave with me and die, too?" Brittany asked, smiling at Santana and poking her in the side. "That would be depressing."
The brunette shifted her feet and shrugged. "Life would be no fun without you." She reached out her hand and poked Brittany back.
From that moment forward, Brittany Susan Pierce stopped including death and sadness in all of her stories. She submitted a completely new story to the Lima Middle School writing competition and won second prize. It was about unicorns.