Thank you to everyone who has subscribed, reviewed, or even read this story. :D I am grateful to all of you. Virtual cookies (and thoughts of meeting the cast of HP) to everybody! :D :D The songs used in this chapter are: Livin' Without You by Steve Alek, Hakuna Matata from The Lion King, and Tomorrow Will Be Kinder by Secret Sisters (also from The Hunger Games).
A/N: All characters who are familiar at all outside of this are subject to the studious mind of J.K. Rowling, who can write a much better funeral scene than I can.
Enjoy!
The funeral was held in the Dr. Von Dee Grand Assembly and Dining Atrium. The students, who hated this name—it was such a mouthful—nicknamed it the Grand Atrium. The usually brown walls were covered from floor to ceiling with black cloth. Harry, Grant, Aaron, and some of the boys' other friends helped put the cloth up. Harry remembered trying to hold back his tears the entire time, and then eventually having to stop working to sit down and cry. Grant and Aaron did not fare any better. The older boy left the Atrium one day while they were applying the cloth. He did not show up for the rest of the day. When Harry left, he saw Aaron sitting outside by his tree—the tree at which J.T. had kept him from giving up.
The long cafeteria tables were removed and black folding chairs were put in rows. An aisle ran down the center, where J.T. would be carried in his beautiful deep brown casket. Harry, Grant, and Aaron were asked to be part of the time-honored tradition of pallbearers. Mrs. Gray had come to them the day before she was planning her son's funeral. She knew J.T.'s friends would want a place in the service.
The Atrium's black banners with red and blue trim stayed in their normal place, save the one at the very center of the room. This banner was usually entirely black, but for funerals it was changed to entirely white. One of the oldest legends at Dr. Clariton's was that allowing a white banner in the center of the Atrium would allow the soul of the deceased to have a front row seat at his/her funeral. There had been many funerals during Dr. Clariton's 300 years of existing, and every funeral honored this tradition. Harry had attended five funerals, but they were all for elderly people who had attended the school years ago and died of natural causes. He had never attended a funeral for a boy still in school, much less his own age and his best friend whose murder he had witnessed.
Harry hung back in the hallway right outside the Atrium. It was 3 o'clock p.m.—natural funeral time for Dr. Clariton funerals. He was tired of crying, tired of feeling sad, tired of just being tired. He knew he needed to be strong for his friend, which was why he had agreed so wholeheartedly to being a pallbearer.
Grant, who was standing next to him and had a stone-blank face, suddenly looked away from the stained glass window of someone crying and up at Harry. He fumbled with his black suit coat as he began speaking. "We need to do something. Something big. Something to make the whole school remember just what J.T. went through."
Harry was intrigued. His friend had never expressed this side of him, the sensitive side. Grant was the leader, the rock of their group. He never showed sad emotion. He laughed all the time, but he never once cried. Or at least, never that Harry had seen.
"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked his friend, whose voice had cracked at least twice, as if he were about to start bawling. He hoped the idea would be wonderful, and knowing Grant, it would.
"We need to create a memorial. In the school. And we need to get the stupid hateful bullies out of our school. They've caused too much trouble."
"How will we do that? You know the administration would never go for that. They only just officially expelled Logan, and he killed J.T.!"
"I know! And that is the most stupid thing I've ever heard. But seriously, we need to do something. Something for J.T. You know he'd love that."
"Well," Harry began. He saw the funeral ushers approaching the group of boys waiting to lead J.T. in. "Right now we need to leave, and go do J.T. justice by being his friends."
"And then we can figure out what to do for his memorial?" Grant asked as they joined the group of fellow pallbearers.
"Sure, Grant," Harry answered.
They reached the others, and Headmaster Richter filled them in on the procedures for carrying the casket in.
"The boy will be wheeled in first, and you all will stand around the casket. Bringing him in this way has been the way at every funeral we've conducted."
He began conducting the boys as to where they had to stand.
"You," he pointed to Harry, "will lead on his right, with Grant behind you. Aaron will take the family place leading on his left…."
Grant zoned out as he thought of a song he wanted to sing for J.T. The boys loved to sing, as their many sing-alongs showed. Maybe this could be the beginning of the memorial. I need to figure out what we could do for him. He went through so much. Grant was sad and angry at the situation, but mostly upset at the administration for allowing this to happen. Stupid teachers. He took his spot behind Harry and waited to walk in. The giant dark oak doors shut. It was almost time to lead their friend in. He could hear the school minister, Father Carter, lead the opening prayer in the room through the giant oak doors.
He'd always liked Father Carter. He was kind, and helped him get through a few family problems. Grant was always fighting with his parents, and Father Carter became his father figure at school. Any time Grant needed anything, he would go to the elderly man. He was practically seventy-years-old, with shock-white hair. He had a full beard, but not long enough to play Santa. Father Carter was skinny, a trait that did not grace any of the elders of Grant's family.
"…God, grace this family today and keep them safe throughout this service. In Your holy name, Amen."
The congregation joined in with resounding Amens, and then Grant knew what was to happen next. Headmaster Richter, who had entered the Atrium through a soundless side door, would step up to the pulpit and introduce the pallbearers, which meant he needed to get in his place.
"Boys,"Coach Montgomery hissed. He was attempting to keep the boys quiet and get them ready to carry J.T. in. Coach Montgomery had become J.T.'s favorite teacher, one who he could always count on to talk to. That was not always the case, but changed after J.T. showed his talent in sports.
This had arrived at the most inopportune of times. J.T. was being bullied, unsurprisingly. He was being chased through the grounds by Logan.
"Gray! You're gonna get it!" Logan was screaming at the top of his lungs, right before he collapsed.
J.T. was a good 200 yards in front of the bully, who was now hovering over, panting. "What, am I too fast for a bully like you to catch, Logan?" J.T. reveled in this moment of victory, then started running when he saw the other had regained his breath.
Apparently, Logan had a good set of lungs. He wasn't skinny, but he wasn't the fattest of the group by far. He started up again after his prey, intent on catching the boy. Logan had noticed something missing, something he needed, something that was precious to him. He knew it was J.T.'s fault, and it wasn't the first time, so now the boy was going to pay.
J.T. glanced behind him mid-run and found his pursuer wasn't gaining. However, he sped up, since he was so close to the school. As he turned his head back around, he noticed a few students lounging on the lawn. They were lying side by side. As J.T. approached them, he thought, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna jump them. Logan can't do it. He smiled to himself as he prepared for his feat.
When he was a few feet in front of the students, J.T. sailed himself through the air and across all five. He stuck the landing…
And ran smack into Coach Montgomery, the physical teacher, and coach of practically every sport at Dr. Clariton's.
Both fell to the ground, right on top of each other.
"Mr. Gray," the teacher began. He took a deep breath. "Please get off of me. You're cutting my air supply off."
"I'm sorry, Coach Montgomery." J.T. stood up, and turned to face the teacher. He was positive he was in trouble. None of his teachers, especially Coach Montgomery, liked him, as they were all under the bullies' 'trance'.
"It's alright," Coach Montgomery replied. He held his hand out to J.T., who took it and helped him stand up. "You were running pretty fast there. Can I ask why?"
"It was Logan. He was trying to catch me to beat me up." J.T. figured he might as well tell the truth. No getting past Coach Montgomery. The man had eyes in every corner of the school.
"Now, why would Logan, my star wrestler and future fullback, be chasing someone like you to beat you up?"
J.T knew the coach would never believe anything he said. Especially when it was something about Logan. He mustered up his courage as he prepared to say something, anything, to make this coach believe him.
"Well," he began sheepishly. The coach looked like he was about to strangle the young boy. "He's actually been doing this for some time now. He hates—"
"Now let me stop you right there." Coach Montgomery cut J.T. off with his hand. "This boy is no threat to you. I, however, am feeling a little generous today. Because of this, I will give you a chance at redeeming yourself as a person, and in my classroom."
J.T. did not have a good grade in school, and extra credit, especially in health, would help his grades. "Yessir, I'm listening."
"I am looking to recruit for the new Major Track Team. You would make an amazing long jumper and possibly sprinter."
J.T. was surprised at this. A spot on the track team? I never thought I'd even be thought of for such an opportunity. "Thank you, sir. What would this entail, exactly?"
"Well, you would have to start working out with the team, as soon as the new term began. Anyone younger than a Freshman has to wait until their last Thirdie Semester." A sound came from the inside of his pocket, signaling a phone call. Coach Montgomery pulled his phone out and glanced at it. "I am sorry, but I must take this call. I will be in touch."
Coach Montgomery walked away, pulling the phone to his ear. J.T. stood, eyes transfixed on the spot where the coach had been. Wow, he thought. First, I get bullied for something I didn't do, and now I'm on the Major Track Team. My days are so weird.
He turned to go find Harry, Grant, and Aaron, and tell them his good news.
J.T. found them in the Minor Lounge, singing. Well, that's not surprising. Instead of being in the main Lounge room, they were out on the patio, jamming out with some other Minors. Grant and Harry were becoming a little popular, since they always led sing-alongs.
They had just finished one song, a song J.T. was not that familiar with, so he couldn't place the title. He walked over to the group, who was using the outside fireplace brick as a bench.
"J.T.!" Aaron called. "Hey!" He gave his cousin a wave.
"Aaron! I have the best news."
"Oh, what is it? Can we know?" Harry and Grant said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed. Apparently being in the same room as each other had its advantages, such as saying the exact same thing at the exact same time.
"Well, I was offered a spot on the Major Track Team."
"What, how?" asked Grant.
"Let him finish, dude," Harry scolded his roommate.
"Sorry." Grant looked taken aback.
"It's okay." J.T. smiled at his friend. He began telling the story of how he had ran into Coach Montgomery, literally.
He never got to attend that first practice with the Majors, Grant thought to himself. But he did get on Coach Montgomery's good side. He listened as he heard Headmaster Richter introduce the boys.
They walked in, carrying the casket. Grant finally got to see the Atrium. More people than he would've ever imagined had shown up for J.T.'s funeral. The Atrium was immensely packed. Some of the boys who liked to join their sing-alongs were standing around the room. As Grant made his way toward the front of the room, he noticed some of the boys were straightening their collars, and looked ready to burst into song.
He was right, and as he made eye contact with Harry, who had turned around for a split second, he felt a wave of relief that something was being done that day in J.T.'s memory. A boy had made his way to the grand piano resting on the left corner of the stage.
The stage, which usually held the teachers' table for lunches and dinners, had been transformed into the perfect funeral area. Dozens of flowers adorned the altar that had been brought in from the small chapel in which Father Carter preached. Some of these flowers were vined through the table on which the casket would be placed.
Grant was watching the boy at the piano, and recognized him as Brandon Dervin, one of the Thirdies who was always willing to join in on an impromptu sing-along. When Brandon played the first notes of the song, Grant did not recognize the song. Is it an original? He thought to himself. Brandon had been known to compose some pretty amazing original songs, and if he could pull one more out for J.T.'s funeral, well, that would be the best present anyone could give. At least, that's what Grant thought.
"Dude," Harry hissed at his best friend. "Are they about to—"
Harry's words were cut off at the sound of the first voice.
Now that you're gone
You've done everything
You've been taken away
Oh, I guess you've earned your wings
We're all gathered here
In this memory of you
This is one of those things
We're sad but honored to do
You were always there for everybody
You brought your bright rays of light to those cloudy days
You were an inspiration for everybody
Oh how we wish that you could stay
Now that you're gone
Oh, you've done everything
You've been taken away
I know you've earned those wings
Now and through all the years
And through the lessons that we've learned
We look upon you as so much more
Than a friend
We miss you so much
We're all at a loss
We're here just thinkin' about you
Oh it's we that pay the cost
The memories are strong
Oh, it hurts to live this song
The hardest part about this
Is livin' without you
You were always there for everybody
You brought the bright rays of light to the cloudy days
You were an inspiration for everybody
Oh how we wish that you could stay
Now that you're gone
You've done everything
You've been taken away
God knows you've earned your wings
There was not a dry eye in the house as the boys sang the last chord of their song. Brandon found Grant's eyes as he made his place back along the side of the audience. The boy smiled, a sad, sympathetic smile. Grant smiled back with the same sad smile he had been giving everyone the entire day. He wiped a tear from his cheek, keeping his weight of the casket with the one arm. They had made it to the front of the aisle, close to the stage.
"And slowly set him down," Coach Montgomery told the boys. They were setting J.T. (in the casket of course) on a wheeled table in the front of the Atrium. This way he would be high enough that people could view him after the service (it was an open casket). Also, if the boys who were carrying him were too distraught to carry him back down the aisle, he could be wheeled back. It was not an uncommon thing for the casket to be carried in and then wheeled out. Especially when the deceased was one who was loved and would be missed as much as J.T.
J.T. was popular before he was offered a spot on the Major Track Team, but his popularity grew after his talk with Coach Montgomery. Suddenly everyone knew who he was, which made Harry and Grant popular as well. Sing-alongs were a weekly occurrence once this happened, with more and more people joining every week.
One rainy day, the Minor Lounge was full of students. A few people were outside on the lawn playing Frisbee football, but the majority were sitting on the plush chairs and couches playing video games and cards. The three walked in to find the couch they mainly occupied to be taken by a few Thirdies.
"Hmm," Harry said, thinking out loud. "Maybe we can go find a place in the concession area."
The concession area was just that. There was a giant fridge in the Lounge, surrounded by a bar. The giant barstools were red and plush, just like every other seat in the Lounge. The concession area was in the back left corner of the Lounge, so it was the perfect place to go if one wanted peace and quiet. However, that wasn't what they were using it for.
J.T., Harry, and Grant walked over to the concession area chairs. J.T. had his guitar at the ready. "What song should we sing today, boys?" he asked with a smile. He knew this question would attract many of the students in mere seconds.
"How about…" Grant began. "Something from The Lion King?"
The boys were huge Disney fans. They loved having Disney movie marathons, and The Lion King was one of their favorites.
Grant began the song with two words. "Hakuna Matata."
J.T. took the next line of the song, "What a wonderful phrase."
Grant repeated the line he'd just sang, this time while catching Harry's eye and smiling. "Hakuna Matata."
Harry took it as his time to sing as he took the final line of the chorus. "Ain't no passing craze."
All three boys looked at each other. J.T. played the chord as they sang.
It means no worries
For the rest of your days
It's our problem free
Philosophy
Hakuna Matata
By the time they'd finished singing this, a group had formed. The boys loved hearing J.T. play. They were convinced he would become a famous musician one day, and they wanted to be able to say they knew him 'back when.'
"Well well well." A booming voice interrupted their song. "Now it's Disney songs? I guess you are all just a bunch of faggots."
"Shut up, Logan," Harry warned.
"If you don't like it, you can leave." Grant pointed to the door.
"Oh, I don't like it," the bully sneered. "But there's no way in hell I'm leaving the Lounge because of a few baby Thirdies who think they can take over anywhere with their guitars. Isn't that right, boys?"
He looked at the group of followers who had followed him. They nodded in encouragement.
"We own this school, whether you like it or not," he continued. "And no stupid guys such as you will take it away from us."
With that, he turned and walked away, with the others following him.
Harry trailed the boys with mean, raging eyes. "I really wish someone would do something about him. I can stand Dudley more than I can stand him. That's sad." He shook his head in disapproval. Little did he know that something would happen even though it wouldn't be something anyone wanted.
"…and watch over this young man. I know he is walking with You. In Your great book of Psalms, we hear David's prayer, his reassurance about death. Please, congregation, join with me in prayer: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul, He leadeth me in the path of the righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with oil: my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Amen."
Grant, in thinking about one of the last sing-alongs he had had with J.T., missed the rest of the service. He shot himself in the foot when he realized that, because he was looking forward to hearing what Mrs. Gray and Aaron would say about J.T.
He heard Father Carter say the ending words of the funeral. The 23rd Psalm usually closed the service, but this funeral was a tad different than any other.
"I know this is unusual, but I feel led by God to end with this statement. For those of you who do not know, this young man did not die by normal circumstances. He was not sick, or ill, or ran into by a car. This boy was, to put it frankly, killed. By a student that most of you know. The killer was a bully. In order to keep J.T.'s memory alive, please, oh, please, do not bully people. It can hurt and even kill" with this he stretched an arm toward the casket "someone. Please, keep J.T.'s memory alive and be friendly to everyone. Help those who need it and show the love of Christ in all that you do. Now, if you wish, you may visit the altar and view J.T. one last time."
There was a murmur as the crowd left their seats and made their way to the front. Grant stayed where he was, along the wall with the other pallbearers. He watched the mass walk up to the casket, put their hand on it, and say a prayer or such. He recognized many of the students who attended, and even some of the adults. Each person then went over to Mrs. Gray and said a few kind words to her. She was bawling her eyes out, and looked like she hadn't slept for days. She probably hadn't.
When the crowd thinned, Grant saw the one person he wished he'd never met. That nerve! he thought when he noticed the boy. He was standing in the back of the Atrium, with a dense, nervous look on his face.
"He shouldn't be here," Harry hissed into Grant's ear. He had noticed the boy, as had many others in the room.
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Grant replied.
A small army of police officers surrounded the boy as he approached Mrs. Gray. She looked up at him, and when she saw him, she freaked out.
"Get that boy out of here! Right now!" She pointed an accusing finger at him and all but spat at him. Aaron stood in front of the boy, causing Grant to have a flashback of that day. That horrid day no one would get back.
"Please, ma'am," the head officer calmly began. "Let the boy speak. He has something he wants to say to you."
"What would he have to say to her?" Aaron sneered at the officer. "He's already taken the very thing she loves most in this life away from her. She has no family. No husband, no other children, she's an only child herself and orphaned by now!"
"Please," a small whimper came from inside the group of officers. Logan was crying, tears streaming down his face.
"Go on." Mrs. Gray had composed herself and was ready to hear what he had to say.
The officers slid apart to let Logan come forward. Grant noticed a transformation right away. Instead of being the strong, confident bully he had been a few weeks ago, Logan was a shell. He hadn't eaten in days, and the stress of being in jail was getting to him. Grant thought back to when he finally heard Logan would be going to jail.
To say that Grant, Harry, and Aaron were nervous about the trial would be a major understatement. Luckily, it took five days after the murder for Mrs. Gray to acquire a trial. She knew the boys would all want to attend, to see what would happen to the murderer.
Logan had not attended normal class in the days after the murder. Harry and Grant were told he was being tutored by Mr. Greene and Mr. Moses. They were appalled to hear he wasn't in jail yet. Shouldn't someone who had killed someone be arrested, at least?
Harry had asked this question to Aaron. He had stopped crying and punching everything for a few minutes, allowing the two Thirdies time to talk to him.
"Not at this school," Aaron gravely said. He dropped his head in his hands and sat there for a minute. Grant and Harry looked at each other, unsure of what to do. They had made up their mind to leave when Aaron lifted his head up. "This school is crap. I hate it. I wish we still went by the mantra of the olden days of zero-tolerance. But, no." He stood up and began pacing. "Now, our school is full of crap-shot authority figures who think of no one but themselves. I'd like to take my hands against one of them and strangle them and see just what they would do about it."
His phone rang, a cheerful, happy ring. He scowled at the phone as he picked it up. "Aunt Marla! Hi…yes…okay you got a lawyer?...Good…when is it?...I'll be there…thanks…okay, love you too, Aunt Marla."
Harry and Grant were intrigued at this phone call. They weren't sure who Aaron was talking to, or why it made his face go blank, but when he turned his head toward them, they found out.
"They've set a court date for Logan. It's tomorrow, at the local courthouse."
The next day, the boys sat in the courtroom audience chairs. Logan was sitting at the bench, a solemn look on his face.
"Montgomery, how does your client plea?" the judge asked Logan's lawyer.
"Is that Coach Montgomery's father?" Harry whispered his friend. The man was the spitting image of the coach, so this was the only explanation.
"Yup," Grant answered. "He's been the Anderson family lawyer for years now. It's no wonder Logan is Coach Montgomery's star and favorite."
"Guilty," the man was saying. "He pleas guilty." He gave Logan a look of 'sorry, but this has to happen'.
"I've always said someone should do something about him," Harry remarked. "And I guess now something is going to get done."
"Just wait," Grant glumly replied. "It's not going to be as good as we hoped."
"Alright," the judge was saying. The judge had a long, white beard and long, silvery hair. Even in the High chair, everyone could tell he was the tallest man in the room. He looked familiar to Harry. "According to this evidence…"
The entire audience quieted for the revealing of Logan's sentence. Grant was frozen, eyes plastered on the judge. Harry was chanting a mantra in his head of, "Please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please."
"Juvenile Detention until he's eighteen, along with 2,000 hours of community service. Once he's eighteen, another trial will determine any further punishment. Court adjourned." He banged the gavel three times as his eyes swept the room. He winked at Harry, who then realized why he recognized the man.
The judge was in his dream, the recurring dream he had had many times. He hadn't had the same dream for a few weeks, because he was having a nightmare about J.T. being killed. Those two dreams weren't the only ones he'd been having. Harry was also plagued with strange dreams of flying cars and tabby cats who could talk.
The tall man stood up, and Harry had a feeling he would see the man again, someday.
The pallbearers, Aaron, Mrs. Gray, and a few others were still left, and everyone was waiting anxiously to hear just what the boy would say. He was fidgeting, shifting his weight back and forth, nervous. Logan gained his composure, and looked Mrs. Gray straight in the face.
"I could start by saying I'm sorry. But what would sorry do in a time like this? Sorry can't bring back a death, it can't change time. What's done is done. However, I want to say that these past weeks have been the hardest time of my entire life." He looked at the head officer, who nodded at him to continue. "In my time at juvenile detention, everyone has to go to therapy at least twice a day. The therapist has helped me come to terms with what happened, what I did. I accept that, and I do not expect you to forgive me. I do wish I could take back what happened. If I could, I would take his spot. No one should have to go through what I put you through, Mrs. Gray, and for that I am truly, sincerely sorry. I wish I could change what I did. I acted out of impulse, out of rage for something stupid. I know that should not be used as an excuse, but I want to tell you that I've been taking anger management classes in the center, and trying to better myself. Never in my fifteen years on this earth did I ever think I would kill someone." (A/N: Logan was held back, and he was fifteen as a Thirdie, instead of fourteen.)
Grant watched Mrs. Gray, to see what she would do about this. Logan did seem to be remorseful, but it could all just be an act. Finally, the devastated mother spoke to her son's killer. "I know coming to speak to me took a lot of courage, I do not want to speak to you, or see you, or have any type of contact with you ever again. I hope all you said was true, and that no one else will have to go through what I've gone through." She addressed the officer. "Please take him away, far from here."
Logan was led out of the Atrium. Grant knew where he would be taken: down the hall, out to a police car, and back to juvenile detention, where he would spend the next three years until he could be tried as an adult and hopefully put in jail.
Harry caught Grant's eye, and nodded his head toward Mrs. Gray and Aaron. The two were struck at the sight of seeing Logan, and needed some consoling.
Grant spied J.T.'s old guitar next to Aaron. He picked it up, startling Aaron and his aunt. Grant began strumming, with the pallbearers joining in chorus.
Black clouds are behind me
I now can see ahead
Often I wonder why I try
Hoping for an end
Sorrow weighs my shoulders down
And trouble haunts my mind
But I know the present will not last
And tomorrow will be kinder
Mrs. Gray, who was still crying, managed to stifle a smile at the boys. They had formed a half-circle around her and Aaron.
Tomorrow will be kinder
It's true, I've seen it before
A brighter day is coming my way
Yes, tomorrow will be kinder
Today I've cried a many tear
And pain is in my heart
Around me lies a somber scene
I don't know where to start
But I feel warmth on my skin
The stars have aligned
The wind has blown but now I know
That tomorrow will be kinder
Tomorrow will be kinder
I know I've seen it before
A brighter day is coming my way
Yes, tomorrow will be kinder
A brighter day is coming my way
Yes, tomorrow will be kinder
Aaron gave his Thirdie friends a smile. Yes, hopefully tomorrow will be kinder. Hopefully he will not have to go through the burden of losing his cousin, his new-found friend.
Hope you enjoyed that chapter! One reason for such of a delay in my chapters is that I'm writing another story that has to be finished by the middle of June. It's called The Magic Beyond and it's about music, namely, band camp. It sounds nerdy, but hey, we're Potterheads. :P Anyway, please Read and Review this chapter! :D :D And I seriously hope you enjoyed it.