Chapter 10

Jamie looked up as he heard someone walking towards the kitchen.

"Rachel?" he called. "Rachel is that you?" As Lewis wandered into the room Jamie looked back down at the table.

"Lewis. Is she awake yet?" he asked.

"No," he sat down opposite Jamie and sighed. "Jamie. I can't do this anymore. Rachel isn't waking up. You know that don't you?" Jamie didn't answer. He knew Lewis was right, he just couldn't admit it, not to himself or anyone else. However Jamie's expression and the tears now dripping onto the table answered Lewis's question.

"Your parents will be arriving soon," Lewis said.

"So she's not awake yet?" Jamie asked.

"No," Lewis sighed.

"OK, make sure you tell me when she does."

"I will do."

Lewis left the room, leaving Jamie alone. He couldn't bear to be with him any longer. He knew it wasn't his fault, he was in shock, but someone had to be in control and if Lewis stayed any longer then he would end up in the same state. As he left the room Jamie's parents raced into the house. Oh great, Lewis thought. Having to deal with them was the last thing he wanted to do. But he had to, he realised. If he didn't, no one else would do.

"Lewis!" Jamie's mum shrieked. "Where's Jamie? Where's Rachel? What's happened?!"

Lewis sighed deeply before speaking. "Jamie's in the kitchen… and Rachel… Mrs Richardson, Rachel's… dead."

"Dead?!" Mrs. Richardson gasped. "How?! When?!"

"It was probably about an hour ago and she… she killed herself," Lewis replied solemnly. Mr and Mrs Richardson gasped at once, and Lewis led them to where Rachel was laying. Leaving them alone with their grief, he returned to his friend in the kitchen.

"Has she woken up yet?" Jamie asked as soon as he entered the room.

"No Jamie she hasn't," Lewis sighed. There was no point saying anything else, it didn't make any difference. He was in too much shock to accept that she was gone. He sat down with him; he could use the company, he decided. Jamie looked such a mess. Tears were pouring down his face; it was like his tears knew she was dead even if he didn't. His eyes were red from crying. Lewis had never seen him like this before, and it scared him. How long would it take for him to accept that she wasn't coming back?

Rachel's body was removed from the house as swiftly as possible. None of the family wanted it to be there any longer. Once it had gone, Lewis thought, Jamie would begin to accept it more. Sitting at the kitchen table once again, he realised that Jamie had disappeared; he wasn't sitting with him any more. Lewis wondered when he could have possibly got away, but he realised he'd probably been so deep in thought that he just hadn't noticed.

"Jamie?" he shouted. He walked towards the stairs and realised that there was music coming from upstairs. Instead of the slow painful music that had been flowing down the stairs earlier, the beats were back. He realised Jamie must have put it on. As he walked up the stairs he had to cover his ears to stop the music penetrating them. He walked into Rachel's room. Jamie was walking backwards and forwards picking things up from the floor and putting them on shelves, in cupboards or wherever he found it appropriate.

"Jamie?" Lewis spoke. "What are you doing?"

"I'm tidying Rachel's room for when she gets back," he replied, still tidying. Now he lifted her duvet from the bed and gave it a shake. As he shook it, a piece of paper flew off it and floated slowly to the ground. Jamie put the duvet back on the bed neatly and picked up the note from the floor.

"Jamie, make mum and dad proud. Goodbye. Rachel," he read aloud. Grasping the paper in his hand he sunk down to the bed, tears coming to his eyes.

"She's dead," he murmured. "She isn't coming back."

"No," Lewis said, shaking his head. "She isn't." Jamie looked dazed for a second; staring at the note Rachel had left him. The tears in his eyes began to roll down his cheeks, and he began to shake. He put his head in his hand and wept. Lewis was uncomfortable and didn't know what to do. For a moment he just stood there and watched the boy who earlier had been so tough, now breaking down. Then he seated himself beside him on the bed, and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Then they sat, as if time was standing still, best friends, one helping the other, just like friends were supposed to.