Best friends are the family you get to choose.

One: Blair Waldorf

It doesn't make sense. I shouldn't be here. None of us should be.

And yet, we are.

You never expect to be at your best friend's funeral, especially not when you are barely a legal adult. Lily and Rufus told me not to come; so did Eleanor and Harold and Roman. But that's the thing, I can't not come. Serena Van Der Woodsen was- still is- my best friend, it would seem disrespectful not to say goodbye properly. Lily said Serena wouldn't mind if I didn't come- that was a lie. Both Serena and I swore to each when we were younger that we would come to each others funerals. Of course, we had not expected to have to fulfil that promise until we were old ladies.

So here I sit, between Nate and Chuck, my mother and father and Roman behind me. Everybody is crying, but I cant make the tears come. I'm frozen.

At last, the priest stands up and begins to speak about what a wonderful, talented girl Serena was. I clutch the boys hands for moral support, and to show them mine.

As the process continues, I think about Serena. I replay her death over again in my head.

It was Sunday, late afternoon. We were on holiday in the Hampton's- me, Serena, Nate and Chuck. We were staying in the Van Der Woodsen's townhouse, and so far all we had done was party. Not that any of us were complaining.

That Sunday, we were planning on having yet another party. But for some reason Serena and I decided that instead we would go to the beach. The boys never disagreed with us, so they packed up a basket full of food, alcohol and of course Nate's treasured ipod, and we set off in Serena's classic Mercedes convertible for a fun filled day.

It wasn't long before we had drank several bottles of champagne and eaten the contents of the picnic basket. Nate pulled out a small box, which we all knew contained his collection of marijuana. Little did we know, before we had left for Long Island the previous week, he had visited his supplier who had given him a bag of little pills. They looked harmless- tiny pastel coloured pills, decorated in swirls and glitter. Nate took one, Chuck took one, and I took one. Serena shook her head when the box got to her. We all sighed.

"Serena, just take one." Nate said.

His patience was wearing thin as she shook her blonde head again.

"For fuck sake Serena! You used to pop every single pill in the fucking cupboard- why not these?"

Serena glared at him and looked over at me. I shrugged. "What's the worst that can happen?"

Famous last words.

Not long later, we decided to go to the cliff over-facing the water. Serena and I were in our element, using the edge of the cliff as our own personal stage. We danced, we sang, we posed for pictures. Chuck and Nate whistled at us, and we laughed.

"You're my best friend B! I love you!" Serena sang, throwing back her head and laughing.

"I love you too S- best friend forever," I swore.

"Enough with the soppy girly talks- let's go swimming!" Chuck jumped up and pulled off his shirt.

Nate copied him. "I'll go first, show you amateurs how it's done," he joked.

We all laughed, and watched as Nate arched his tanned back to create the perfect dive. He splashed into the water, and his chuckles filled the air.

Serena went next.

None of us remembered she couldn't swim until she had jumped, but we needn't have worried.

Because she jumped… but she never hit the water.

I screamed as I looked over the edge and saw her splattered across a rock that jutted out of the cliff.

She was a mess of red- ironically, it was her favourite colour. Her blonde hair that I had always secretly envied was a mess of bright red stick liquid.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, feeling distinctly queasy. But it was too late, I was promptly sick in the corner.

The ambulance came while I was still being sick. The paramedics were all fussing over me.

"Leave me- it's Serena that needs help…" I tried to tell them, but then I would picture all that blood again and my stomach would convulse.

I don't think any of them had the heart to tell me she didn't need help -she was already dead.

Chuck squeezed my hand, snapping me back to the present. His eyes seemed dead, as lifeless as Serena's.

At last, tears dribbled down my face.

A/N: So, what do you all think? Depressing, I know, but I had this urge to write it. The next part will be up shortly. Review!