Red's POV

She's gone. One of my best friends is gone. I throw myself onto my bed and sob in hysterics. Why did Bebe have to take herself out of my life? Why did she say she was going to make everything right when what she really did was make everything wrong? Why did she make herself into a bad person before she died by taking an innocent life? Even if she hated Stan, how could she hurt Wendy in such a way? So many questions, but it does it matter if they get answered? Nothing is going to bring back Stan or Bebe. It's too late to fix Bebe and now I have to deal with the guilt, I have to deal with the worst question of all. Could I have done anything to stop this? Only I knew of Bebe's true feelings for Wendy and of her true hatred of Stan before all this ugliness happened. What if I had told someone? If enough people knew about it, could we have snapped Bebe out of her seemingly perpetual bleak trance? Questions cycle through my head relentlessly and all I can do is muffle my screams of despair into a pillow.

A week passes by and I hear little from Wendy or Clyde on how either of them is adjusting to the loss of the person they loved most. Clyde can't attend school for the week. I hear from his friends that he is traumatized, crying all the time. I myself missed two days of school dealing with the harshest part of the grieving process. I'm told Wendy hasn't missed a beat in her academic career. She puts on an incredibly strong face every day to make it through the school day without breaking down over the loss of Stan. But her personality comes through much less brightly than it ever has before and anyone who knows her knows that she must be crying behind closed doors, missing Stan every day and night.

Finally, I catch word that Wendy goes to Stark's Pond every day after school and just sits there for about an hour. She's done it every day since the night of the tragedy. I'm eager to find out why Wendy wants to spend so much time at the spot where Bebe ended her own life, so on the next school day I do just that. I finally have a question that might be able to be answered.

"Wendy?" I approach and speak to her softly.

"Oh, hey Red," she greets me with a tone that is melancholy but polite, "How are you?"

"I'm… Okay," I tell her, "Can I sit down and have a chat?"

"Yeah…" Wendy replies.

"Wendy," I pause before asking the important question, "Why do you come here every day?"

"Because…" Wendy begins, "Bebe told me this is where dreams go to die. I wanted to experience that for myself. To see what she means."

"But… Isn't it bad for you to be visiting the spot where Bebe killed herself?" I ask, still a bit confused.

"I guess I'm just coming here to let it go," Wendy tells me.

"To let what go?" I continue to ask her questions.

"To let Stan go, to let the pain go," Wendy manages, sounding a bit upset, "To try and forgive Bebe, even though she took my everything from me." Tears well up in Wendy's eyes and she grits her teeth. I fight back the tears in my eyes, trying to stay strong and supportive.

"I'm sorry," I manage to tell her, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay, Red," Wendy calms a bit, wiping her face with her sleeve, "You're my best friend. We need to be able to talk about these things."

It's true, by virtue of Bebe's death and the horrific crime that preceded it, Wendy and I are now best friends, without a doubt.

"No Wendy, I really am sorry, because…" I sigh and explain, "I always knew about Bebe's love for you. And her hatred for Stan. It tore me apart, watching her go through the pain. And now I feel guilt because I never told anyone. I wanted to keep Bebe's secrets confidential. I didn't know it would cost lives." I bury my face in my hands and begin to cry. I don't know what to expect from Wendy.

I feel a bit better when Wendy puts her arm around me in a comforting hug.

"Red, it's okay, I'm still here for you," she tells me.

"But I can't make things right," I tell her, "It's tormenting me."

"If you want to make things right," Wendy looks me in the eye, "Help me heal. Help us heal."

Wendy hugs me again and buries her face into my shoulder. My best friend and I cry on each other's shoulders. It's all we've got for the moment, but we are going to make it work. After we calm down and release some of our negative emotions together, I tell Wendy it's getting dark and I've got to go home. She agrees and we get up from the bench at Stark's Pond to go our separate ways for the night.

"Red, before you go, just remember," she tells me just as I start to walk away and I turn around to listen, "Don't let your guilt and the things that you can't change define your life. That's what Bebe did and neither of us is going to end up like her."

"For sure," I tell Wendy, for the first time since the tragedy there is a sense of strength and purpose in my voice, "I feel so much better now that we had this talk, Wendy. We can get through this, together!" These things are somewhat cliché to say, but now is not the moment to be nitpicking for originality, now is a time for finding the strength to move forward.

"That's right, I'll see you tomorrow," Wendy gives me a smile and we head our separate ways.

I feel good, but the evenings are still pretty lonely now that I can't hang out with Bebe anymore.