DISCLAIMER-Why must you rub it in that I still don't own Narnia. Or anything vaguely Narnia related?
This is NOT supposed to be set in the 40's-50's. It is set in the present, it is also set in America. Sorry for any confusion.
Sorry it took me so long, I have been a very busy girl lately!
One of my five best friends is a boy and this is the kind of stuff we do together, so it is realistic for her to remember doing this stuff.
You may find it quite surprising that Clara's best friend was boy. To tell you the truth, she found it surprising to. But there was something about Edmund. He was clever and quick witted he was funny and caring. He had always been there for him. Except for now, when she needed him the most. When Clara had cried out all of her tears the sun had shrunken and was beginning to swell up again on the horizon. She had gotten even less sleep then the night before. She was still in the lounge. Soon, Clara's sadness was replaced by something that felt like a Wild-West-Movie cactus growing inside her stomach. She started pummeling the pillow on the lounge couch. Why did you go and get yourself killed like that? What were you thinking? What about me? Anger pulsed through her veins like magma, just burning to be released from its volcanic prison. The pillow was already losing a lot of volume. The cactus seemed to deflate pretty fast to. Her mind scattered of to all those things that she and Edmund would never do again. He would never try to talk to her about those cute guys in her Math minor class. She would never paint his nails while he was sleeping again. They would never go bowling again; she would never 'accidentally' drop Bowling balls on his toes when he was beating her. They would never attempt to help each other pick out outfits for dates. Her roommate would never flip every time Edmund walked into their apartment again. Clara would never laugh at her other friends talking about Edmund's hair and his eyes and his clothes (that Clara probably helped buy anyway) and his hands and his voice. She would never get to bury her face into his shoulder and cry her heart out about stupid things. Stupid things that were nothing compared to this. He would never tell her that he only felt comfortable with her ever again. That she was the only one who saw through him right away. Clara even knew she would miss their fights. The days when she would go through her notebooks ripping up the little notes he had written her. When they would avoid each other for days. She knew she was going to miss him so much.
Clara finally managed to rip herself off the couch. She pulled herself up to her room and collapsed onto her bed. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her roommate, Gina, wasn't back yet. Clara settled uneasily under her mountain of blankets. She tried to sleep but she couldn't bring herself to. She lay awake in her bed for hours. Trying to convince her self that this was just a horrible dream. She would wake up tomorrow and Edmund would be waiting outside her door so they could go and get breakfast together. Gina would never have left. Everything would be exactly the way it should be. Exactly the way it wasn't now. Clara glanced at her wristwatch. She was late to her Business class. Even though it was her major she didn't care. Even though she had arrived over two hours late for Business yesterday Clara knew she would not be able to get out of her bed. She grabbed her phone and started punching in numbers. She was going to have to call in sick.
Clara pulled her head of the pillow. It was soaking wet with salty tears. Clara didn't know she could cry so much. She heard a knock on the door, then a click and then the door swung open. Gina dashed in with a suitcase rolling behind her.
"Oh, Clara! What's wrong?" she shrieked when she saw Clara's face. The whites of her eyes were red and her entire face was flushed a splotchy pink. Clara frowned and burrowed her head back into the pillow.
"This isn't about the boy…Edmund, right?" Gina asked. Clara looked up at her, her eyes wet and shiny.
"He died." Clara said quickly. Saying it out loud felt like ripping off a bandage that hasn't lost its stick yet. It hurts, but it you go slower it hurts more. Gina's face went white.
"I am so sorry." Gina choked. She hadn't known Edmund very well, but she had known him a bit. Anyone who knew Edmund was going to miss him. For a minute or two Gina sat silently on the edge of Clara's bed. Neither of them knew what to say. Clara was finally to sad for tears. She had finally realized that Edmund was gone. He hadn't just gone a trip. He was dead, and he was never coming back. It locked into her head, pinching the back of her eyes and pulling the skin of her scalp tighter across her skull.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this came for you." Gina pulled out a crisp white envelope. Her name and address were written in magazine clipped letters. Gina stood up slowly and left. Clara tore open the letter, inside was a note that looked like it had been written rather hastily. She recognized the handwriting though. I just got a letter from my dead best friend.