There was a memorial service for Valerie at Odyssey Community Church a few days later. I stayed home. I just wasn't ready yet to face the onslaught of emotions I knew would be waiting for me there.

Connie went, though. It was crazy to think that she had known Valerie for years longer than she'd known I even existed.

I slumped on the couch, staring at my phone. Buck had texted me days ago, and I'd left his message on read. Perfect gentleman that he was, I knew he wasn't going to push me to talk before I was ready.

All the same, I wondered if the silence between us was killing him like it was killing me. I missed my best friend. I wanted so desperately to talk to him. To tell him what had happened to me—how I was a follower of Jesus now. But I was scared.

Over the past few months, a deep bond had developed between the two of us—something so fragile and special—and I was terrified of doing anything that might break it. I feared my new relationship with Jesus might drive a wedge between us.

A series of loud bangs coming from the kitchen interrupted my thoughts, and I peeped my head in to investigate.

"I'm making vegan cupcakes! Wanna help?" Jillian hollered, half-buried in the cabinet where we kept the muffin pans.

"Nah, you go ahead."

"Do you want to talk?"

I shrugged. "No, not really."

I hated to brush her off like that, but I knew I needed space to grieve and process everything on my own. And happy-go-lucky Jillian was the last person I expected to be able to understand any of what I was feeling.

I slowly climbed the stairs to my room and flopped down on the bed.

I tried to read Connie's Bible, but just found myself staring off into space. So I began to pray. I reveled in the newfound privilege of prayer. It wasn't like some kind of magic spell that suddenly made everything okay again, but it gave me a sense that there was a purpose in it all somehow, like what had happened was all part of something bigger than myself. And it brought a certain peace that I had never known before.

When Connie got back from the memorial service, she made her way quietly up to my room and tapped on the door.

"It's open," I called, rolling over to face her.

"How you doing?"

"I'm alright. I prayed for a long time, and that was really…good. How was the memorial service?"

"It was nice—" She cut herself off. "No. No, it wasn't. There's nothing nice about… Well… I guess they made it as nice a tribute as they could. Poor Nelson is devastated. Buck sat with him the whole time, though. That was really sweet of him, don't you think?"

I nodded, avoiding her eyes.

"He asked about you. He said he hasn't heard from you in a couple of days. He's worried about you."

When I didn't respond, she began again. "You know…He's not going to stop being your friend, just because you're a Christian now. You should give him more credit than that."

I hadn't expected her to be so perceptive, and it caught me off guard. My jaw must have dropped open, and I just stared at her, speechless.

"Just a thought, but…" She continued. "Have you thought about praying for Buck? He's hurting right now, too, you know."

I nodded, tears smarting at my eyes. I did know. It struck me then how selfish I'd been in all of this. He had been there, rock-solid for me when I needed him. May be it was time I returned the favor.

"You're right," I sniffed. "I should be praying for him. And maybe I'll see if he wants to meet up later or something."

"That sounds like a good idea. I'll leave you to it." She touched my shoulder reassuringly, then turned to leave the room.

"Wait, Connie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"That's what big sisters are for."

A wave of nervous relief washed over me as I reached for my phone.

Hey

Can we talk?