Chapter Twenty-Eight

Vaginer Is A Noun, Look It Up!

(Ryan)

"Coffee with three sugars and a bit of milk, and two pieces of the toast for the lovely lady who needs to learn to eat again."

Harlow rolled her eyes, propping herself up against the puffy pillows in my bed. Self-consciously, she pulled the duvet up to her belly button, reaching out gingerly with those small, delicate hands to take the steaming mug of coffee. She gave it a little sniff and smiled.

"Perfect," she said softly, scootching over a little to give me my spot back on the bed. "Thank you."

I smiled, propping myself up next to her, her warm body resting against my arm. I held out the plate piled with toast, waving it seductively under that little button nose.

"And toast!" I said enthusiastically. "Fresh from the toaster. And I used butter, not margarine - because I'm legit."

She chuckled, but didn't take a piece. "I'm not very hungry, but I might nibble at it later. You eat some."

I rolled my eyes and set the plate down on the bedside table. I wrapped an arm around her, noting worriedly the sharp edge of bone slightly rigid along her shoulder blades. She rested a warm cheek against my bare arm, took a small sip of coffee.

"You've got to eat something, Lo," I said evenly. "You've barely eaten in a week, and you've got a game tonight. You need your energy."

She motioned to her mug. "From what I hear, coffee's a great source of energy."

"You know that's not the kind of energy that's going to win you a game."

She nodded, taking another small sip. "I know."

"We can go out for lunch somewhere, if you'd like," I offered. "You choose, no matter how fancy or far away."

She smiled, nuzzling her cheek affectionately against my arm. "We'll see. I don't know many good restaurants, that's why we always let you pick."

"Today can be opposite day!"

"I'd prefer samesies day."

"You're really no fun."

She laughed, taking one more sip of coffee before dissolving into silence.

It'd been almost two weeks since we'd all heard the news - Kimmy had died. Hit by a drunk driver while coming home from the bar. She was twenty five.

Myself and the team, naturally, had all been horrifically upset. We didn't know the girls from the volleyball team very well, but we'd all known Kimmy. Outgoing, exceptionally funny, sweet, kind, inviting. She'd never made us feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. Whenever we'd go see a game she'd wave and chat with us every chance she had. She was remarkably friendly, unquestionably warm-hearted. A person we'd been lucky to spend time with, as little time as it had been.

Harlow and the rest of the volleyball team had been devastated. Beyond that, really - shattered. Completely, utterly heartbroken, equally anguished and shocked. It was a loss for this world, for this University, for her family - but for the girls, it was more than that. It was like the light they'd all been illuminated with had been smashed beyond repair. The fight, the Team versus Team, there was none of that anymore. No one had the will to argue, to wage wars. No one had the energy to be angry, to care. To be anything less than floored by the unfathomable loss.

Harlow had taken it as badly, or perhaps worse, than the rest of the team. She'd stayed in bed for three days after the call had come. Sobbed, slept, sniffled. She lay practically comatose for 72 hours. Not a sip of water, a morsel of bread, a quick shower, a trip to the toilet. It was like walking in to a dead body sprawled in her bed every afternoon. She didn't move, didn't talk. She simply stared into space, hour after hour, and cried.

After the funeral, five days after the accident, Harlow returned - slightly - to her daily routine. She woke up on the sixth day, she showered, she put on clothes, put on makeup. She cleaned the house, collected the laundry. Checked her emails, returned phone calls. She even made it to her afternoon classes. But she did all of these activities in a perfunctory way. She did them because it was something to do, not because she wanted to or knew that it needed to be done. When she arrived back to her apartment that evening - where I had been making dinner - she thanked me politely, ate a few mouthfuls of stir fry, and returned to her Psychology assignment. Besides those few bites, a piece of toast, a granola bar and an apple, I hadn't seen her eat in nearly two weeks. I'd barely seen her consume enough water to keep her system running properly. And I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her smile - properly, that is. Smile because she felt like it, not because it was an appropriate response.

The last few days, she'd returned almost back to normal, minus the smiling and eating. She was attending class again, doing daily household chores, muttering furiously under her breath at the thirty page booklet on operant conditioning. She took careful consideration into what she wore, meticulously applied her makeup and did her hair. Went shopping for groceries (that remained untouched) and spent the normal twenty hours a week in the library. She held conversations now, listened without a blank stare, expressed interest once again in stories and daily happenings in people's lives.

Yesterday evening, I'd even seen her laugh when Heather put down "vaginer" in Scrabble (much to the irritation of Tad, we refused the word - "Vaginer! It's a noun, assholes! Look it up, look it up!").

But she still wasn't herself. She still seemed stuck in a funk that couldn't be eradicated. She'd had little contact with the other girls on the volleyball team, and had holed up in the library or at home at every possible opportunity. She'd even taken the news that their volleyball match against California had been postponed to the following week with legitimate indifference. And she was thin, much too thin. Her already petite frame was shrinking, and her eyes seemed bigger from the amount of weight she'd lost in her face.

Taking another slow sip of the steaming brew, she shook her hair from her eyes and rested a hand on my thigh (which, may I add, I had become accustomed to and was now able to prohibit myself from shitting over).

"Are you coming to the game tonight?" she asked softly, moony eyes looking carefully up at me.

I nodded. "Of course I am. Is .. is the whole team going to be there?"

She frowned a little, plush lips downturned in a devastatingly sweet pout. "I'm not sure. We .. we gave them the option."

"To show up?"

She nodded, pulling her knees up to her chin. "Yeah. Remember we met up for a meeting a couple of days ago?"

I nodded, remembering very well how anxious she'd been about it. "I do. They all showed up for that?"

"Yes," she said, gnawing on her bottom lip subconsciously. "When we had all arrived, we - Sophie and I - basically told the girls that it was completely their choice to show up to the match. We told them we understand how .. hard, it was. And we had no expectations for their attendance. We didn't care if we had to forfeit, that wasn't what was important."

"And how did they respond?" I asked.

"They didn't, really," she said simply. "We didn't expect them to. We didn't get them together to talk about how much life sucked at the moment, we just wanted to let them know that they had options. And we weren't going to be angry if they chose not to show up."

"So then, tonight," I said slowly. "It might not .. even happen?"

"It'll happen," she said with a nod. "There will be a game. The California Lions will be there, and Sophie and I have both decided we will too. If we have four girls show up, we'll play with the ones we do. And if less than four, or none, show up - then we'll forfeit."

"Do you want to have to forfeit?" I asked.

"I didn't want any of this," she said quietly. "But if bowing out of the tournament is the only option .. then it's the appropriate one, for the situation we're in."

"That's really big of you," I said softly.

She shrugged. "I was going to cancel the matches completely. Sophie talked me out of it, said we should at least give everyone the option."

Perhaps the one good thing, the only silver lining that had come out of this, was that Sophie and Harlow were once again on speaking terms. Not best friends, not like they were. But they had put their differences aside, joined forces as the mediators between the rest of the team. They didn't call each other multiple times a day just to chat, but they were civil and worked together nearly as well as they'd used to. No word of Harlow's abilities had been brought up, and no spiteful reminders of Sophie's bad attitude had been mentioned. They maintained civility at all times, more to alleviate the girls of any more unneeded stress than because they wanted to. But it was a start, and it was a positive effect in a shitstorm of negative.

"Wise decision on both your parts, I'd say."

She smiled, another fake one, but it seemed less phony than the ones that had preceded it.

"That remains to be seen."

(Katrina)

"How's she doing?"

Ryan plopped down in the chair adjacent to me, and gave a tired sigh.

"Better, much better than she has been," he said. "Still not eating, but she looks a lot more ... alive, I suppose."

"Well that's good, I guess," Eilfie said softly, warm mug of tea between her hands. "Did she go back to bed?"

He shook his head. "Changing, she'll be down in a minute."

The toll Kimmy's death had taken on Harlow was shocking - but the toll Harlow's misery had taken on Ryan was almost as bad. He looked nearly as exhausted as she did. Purplish bags had formed under his eyes, and his skin had paled considerably from the light brown it normally was. The burden of having a nearly comatose girlfriend was clearly tuckering him out.

Myself, Sergey, Eilfie and Ryan were sitting in Serge and Ryan's living room on this beautiful April morning, preparing to sit down and look through the latest case. Heather and Josh, late as always, were due to arrive any minute.

"Is Harlow staying for the briefing?" Sergey asked, in an air of badly feigned nonchalance.

"I don't think so," Ryan said thoughtfully. "She's going to go home and do some last minute studying before the game tonight."

"So it's still happening?" Eilfie asked with interest. "In light of ... everything?"

Ryan frowned, running a hand through his hair in a very Harlow-ish manner. "It's a long story. I'll explain later."

His explanation was understood, as we heard the top of the stairs creek and saw Harlow make her way down the flight. Her hair had been pulled back in a limp ponytail, empty mug swinging from her fingers. She reached the bottom and gave us all a weak smile.

"Early morning party and I wasn't invited," she said rather chipperly, leaning against the door frame. "How rude."

"Hardly a party," Elf laughed. "Work, boring case debriefing - no offense, Boss."

Ryan grinned in amusement, but said nothing.

"Where's the rest of the gang?" Harlow asked, looking over her shoulder for Josh and Tad.

"Coming," I said with a sigh. "Late, as always."

Harlow smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. I was surprised at how different she looked - and I could tell Sergey and Elf felt it too. Always thin, Harlow seemed to have wasted away even more since the last time I'd seen her. Her sleek body seemed more bony than fit now, and her face had a distinctly malnourished look about it. Her skin was tinged, a slight yellow, and her eyes protruded in a subtle manner from the fat she'd lost in her cheeks.

But there was still that air of beauty about her, something so beyond perfection it was hard to pinpoint. Even in the wake of rapid weight loss, lack of sleep and mild depression, there was still a sparkle to her skin, a strange but brilliant skip in her step, and a slightly fizzled although still remarkably beautiful glow that seemed to radiate from within her. And those eyes - regardless of the way they now sat slightly hollowed in their sockets, they still shone brighter than the sun, the shade of green specific to her and her alone.

"I wish I could stick around and see them," she said apologetically. "I've got to run, though. It's about time I do exam prep, since y'know - they're literally a week away."

"You're always more than ready for them," Ryan said with a laugh, pulling himself up and out of the chair. "Sophie said you panic the week before, but you never get less than an A."

"Less than an A+, actually," she said with a smirk. "I'd be devastated with an A ... I'd lose all my scholarships."

Ryan rolled his eyes, slipping her jacket off the hook and handing it to her. "My apologies, an A plus. Very impressive."

She smiled, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and turned to the rest of us.

"I'll see you all later," she said, with a little wave.

"We'll be at the game tonight," I reminded her, motioning to Elf and Serge. "We haven't missed a game since the first one!"

She smiled. "Which is so wonderful, thanks for all your support. Hopefully we actually get a chance to play tonight ... see you!"

And she had dashed out the door in less than a blink of an eye.

Elf and I exchanged curious glances. "What does she mean if they actually get to play tonight?"

Ryan closed the front door with a quiet snap, and returned to his chair. He sunk into it with quiet exhaustion, and sighed.

"She means if anyone shows up."

(Harlow)

"I'm not a doctor, but you know ... you should probably eat something. You're bones."

I grimaced slightly, well aware of how I must look to the people around me. "I know. I just .. haven't been hungry."

"Can't blame you, really," Sophie said quietly from her perch on the bench. "I don't feel like doing much of anything, lately."

I nodded, but wasn't sure of what else to say, so I stayed silent ... something I'd found myself doing a lot lately. It's strange .. the moments you find yourself with the most to say, words always seem to fail you. I've never had more that I wanted to say or knew I should, but I was unable to find the correct way to say it. Or rather, it was unwilling to come out.

Sophie, it seemed, was in the same situation as me. A girl you rarely were able to shut up could no longer find a thing to talk about. Nevermind the fact that it was still awkward between the two of us .. but now, when there was so much to say, so much to discuss, so many things to clear the air about ... we came up blank.

Sophie'd managed to change into her volleyball uniform, but I was still in jeans and a sweatshirt. I was holding up little hope that tonight would be a success ... even if enough girls managed to show up, what were our odds of winning the game? The California team, from what I'd heard, was brilliant. A truly talented group of girls picked purely on athleticism and skill, not just chicks who looked good in short shorts.

"No offense," Sophie said, making another attempt at conversation. "But that psychologist ... what a quack."

I smiled, something I felt like I hadn't done in years, and nodded. "I've definitely seen better. I found her obnoxious."

"You're putting it politely," Sophie muttered, lacing up her sneakers. "Obnoxious was mild compared to what I was going to say."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, smiling legitimately for the first time in days. "What were you going to say?"

Soph rolled her eyes. "Please, Harlow. This is a sacred change room, these walls have housed champions of all sports. I hardly think the things I was about to say are appropriate for these blessed walls to have to endure."

I laughed, another thing I hadn't done in a long time. It felt strange, like my cheeks were straining to make it work properly.

Sophie smiled, and peered at the door to the change rooms. "What do you think?"

"What do I think you were going to say?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. The girls. What do you think, do you think anyone's going to show?"

I frowned, something that felt a little more natural, and shrugged my shoulders. "I honestly can't say. If I wasn't Captain, if I didn't have to be here ... I don't know if I'd bother. Personally."

"I would've come regardless," Sophie said quietly. "What good is it, to sit around and mope. I've done enough of that for a lifetime these last two weeks. This is home."

I nodded, slightly comforted by her words. She was right, as she often was. What would I have been doing tonight, if I hadn't shown up? I'd probably be sitting on my couch. Watching TV. But not really watching, more just staring at the screen. I'd probably have gone to bed by eight. Felt sorry for myself. Made everyone else around me, who loved me and wanted me to feel better, miserable. I suppose, for Sophie and I at least, this was really the only place we could've been tonight.

"That's true," I said. "But that being said, I won't be angry if - "

The change room door gave a soft squeak, before opening to reveal three girls standing in the doorway: Mickenzie, Natalie and Emma. They looked warily between the two of us, and made their way into the room in awkward silence. Emma plopped down on the bench next to me, while and Nat and Kenzie stood uncomfortably around Sophie. All three of them were in their uniforms.

"You know you're not allowed to wear jeans, Harlow," Emma said, turning her nose haughtily up at me. "Especially those ones. I thought flares went out like, ten years ago."

"They're not flare," I said defensively. "They're boot cut."

"You're full of it," she said, slight smile lighting up her pale face. "Stand up. Let me see the butt. If I see acid wash, you're off of this team."

We both grinned, and I felt and heard laughs I never thought I'd hear again. Mickenzie giggled behind Soph, who was grinning. Natalie stood beside them all, that same dim glaze washed over her face. I couldn't believe it - I was even happy to see that dull, listless face. Well there we go ... five of us. That was five more than I thought would make it down today.

"Harlow," Mickenzie said, after the laughter had faltered. "Listen, I just .. I wanted to apologize."

"There's really no need," I said, with complete honesty. "Really. After everything that's happened these last few days ... we'll start again. All of us. From scratch."

She nodded, looking oddly teary, but plopped down on the bench and began re-tieing her shoes before I could really see what was going on.

The door to the change room opened once again, and two more figures walked in - Jenn and Ainslee. Ainslee's white blonde hair looked lank around her face, it's limp matching her morose face. She eyed the rest of us in the change room, gave a curt nod, and disappeared into the bathroom. Jenn watched her go, turned to the rest of us, and proceeded to flip Emma off.

"Did you not notice me driving erratically behind you half the way here, blaring my horn and flailing my arms out the window?" she asked, looking quite offended. "I was trying to say hello!"

"Oh God, that was you?" Emma said with sincere surprise. "God, I thought you were a fucking maniac!"

"Is that why you took every God damn sidestreet possible?" Jenn asked, plunking down on the floor next to Kenzie and Soph.

" ... Perhaps," Emma said, cheeky grin lighting up her face.

Jenn rolled her eyes, pulling dirty white runners from out of her gym bag. "Well God damn, Emma, next time slow the fuck down when you see a maniac flailing in the drivers seat, if you don't mind."

"Unfortunately, I don't think I will," Em said snidely, grinning at Jenn with that wonderful air of innocence.

"Even if we saw that it was you flailing, Jenn," Ainslee said, closing the bathroom door with a snap behind her. "I don't think any of us would stop or slow down ... you know Psychopathic killers often prey on people they know? I'd think twice before slowing down to say hello to you on the road ... underneath that petite little ass, there might be a 6 inch blade."

"If you hadn't been on my 'To Kill' list before, you most certainly are now," Jenn sniffed, but gave her a little wink. Ainslee returned the wink with a small smile, sitting down on the floor next to Jenn.

Once more, the change room door swung open, and Jess, Ashlee and Meagan came hurrying through, half in their uniforms and half struggling to get the rest of it on.

"Are we late?" Ashlee asked, distinctly out of breath. "I swear to God, those bus drivers have nothing better to do than idle at every fucking traffic light ... "

"Seriously," muttered Meagan, her head half stuck in the armhole of her jersey. "The light was green. It was green! If you're color blind, there are legit other fucking job opportunities for you out there, besides being a bus driver. How are you supposed to fucking drive a bus when every single light on the thing looks blue to you?"

"At least you didn't have to sit beside an old man who smelt like urine and peppermints," Jess said, her voice always so soft, but with an uncharacteristic tinge of irritation this time. "I don't understand .. hygiene, it's just common courtesy, isn't it? If you don't want to shower, fine, but don't take public transit ... "

"And that old bitch, she took up two whole spots! Your friggin' purse doesn't need a seat, it doesn't have feelings, it doesn't have an ass!"

"Why do you need to talk so loudly on your cellphone? Do we really care who you're talking to, what party you're going to, what your boyfriend did the other night that like, thuuuuper pithed you awf?"

"Who pees themselves and then tries to hide it with a peppermint candy, seriously? Do you think I'm not going to notice you smell like fecal matter because you popped three mints you stole from a restaurant into your mouth? Because I'm going to notice. I did notice. You smell like pissy Excel gum."

"Also, why the hell do people in wheelchairs take a bus? Is that not what Handi-Transit is for? I'm sorry, am I being rude? Because what I think is rude is having your feet run over by a 400 pound man in a wheelchair that forgot to turn his God damn brakes on!"

"And why do bus drivers only drive fast when you're about to hit a speed bump and go flying across the bus? Has anyone else noticed that? They're going like 20 clicks, they see a speed bump, they step on it so we have to hit a bump at 60! I nearly faceplanted!"

"Do I smell like pee? I swear, I feel like I smell like pee - his pee rubbed off on me, I smell like old man urine! Be honest, do you smell it? Jenn, can you smell it?"

With the arrival of the last three, the change room was set into a whirlwind of bitchy banter, cheerful albeit slightly forced laughter, and long yells of frustrated conversation. Sophie and I, who'd remained silent on the benches for the last ten minutes, stared at each other in disbelief. They were here ... almost every single girl, they'd made it. Life was going on .. they were letting it go on. The bruised bags underneath all of our eyes and the pale, pinched complexions were tell tale signs that we hadn't, in fact, been okay. But we'd put that aside. We were all here. Except ...

"Where's Lindsey?" Emma said quietly from beside me.

I peered around, looked at all the familiar faces - but saw that besides the obvious missing one, there was another that hadn't made an appearance.

"I don't know," I said softly. "But .. I understand."

(Eilfie)

"I count ten," Heather said, standing up on her chair and not so subtly counting the heads of the players below us. "There should be eleven, shouldn't there?"

Without Kimmy, yes, there should've been. But I did a quick double count, and realized that Heather was right. There were ten girls down there - someone was missing.

"Frankly, I can't believe this many showed up," Ryan said, looking worriedly down at the back of Harlow's head. "She didn't think there'd be more than two."

"There's a lot more than two," Serge noted. "Considering the odds weren't in their favor ... impressive."

The gymnasium was unusually quiet today. Not silent, there were soft murmurs from here and there. But there was no raucous cheering, no chanting, no yelling. Everything seemed sedated, more quiet than a gym should ever be. The team opposite ours, the California Lions, they looked on at the crowd warily. I'm sure they'd been informed of what had happened, and although probably sympathetic, they were probably desperately hopeful that the opposing team would have canceled. Apparently, no such luck.

Below us, sitting on the benches, was the Penn State team. Looking impressively less than miserable, they were all listening with rapt attention to Sophie. Harlow stood beside her in polite silence, wrapped tightly in a sweater two sizes too big.

"I wonder who's missing," Ryan said thoughtfully, trying to account for all the girls he'd met.

"Lindsey," Heather said distractedly, eyeing the Cali team with brutal disdain. "The Spanish one. She was best friends with Kimmy."

Lindsey.

Ryan and I exchanged glances, before looking back down at the team. Heather was right - Lindsey, the tall Spanish girl with the brilliant smile - she was missing. And we clearly weren't the only ones who had noticed. Harlow was looking distinctly concerned beneath her folds of pale green sweater, eyes darting every few seconds to the door. Lindsey, Harlow, Kimmy and Sophie - they were the ones that had always been inseparable.

"Still," Josh said, with forced optimism. "Ten out of eleven. Those aren't odds to shake your head at?"

"Eleven," Heather said suddenly, sitting upright and staring at the gymnasium doors. "Eleven. She's here."

The entire team, along with half the gym, turned their heads to the giant gym doors. A petite girl, even more frail and thin looking than Harlow, had stepped through them and was making her way to the cluster of Penn State girls below. Her legs were like twigs, the shorts at least three sizes too big. Her face was hollowed, but oddly swollen. Her whole demeanor had changed - I hardly recognized her.

Lindsey looked worse than I'd ever seen her, hunched and frail, arms swinging lifelessly by her sides. She didn't look into the crowds - she looked miserably at the team. They had all noticed by now, half staring at her newly gaunt figure, the other half pretending not to notice. Harlow was watching her cautiously, timidly - almost fearfully.

Lindsey came closer to the team, and her hollowed eyes met a nearly equally hollowed set. Harlow's. She came to a stop before Lo, gave a shy nod, and dropped her gym bag resolutely on the ground. Harlow gave a small smile, reached a hand out to pat her on the shoulder.

"There they all are," Kat said softly. "Well .. you know."

A small man had made his way over the sportscaster box, motioned for one of the announcers to begin. The announcer, a small man with clipped grey hair, gave a nod.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, voice more solemn than usual. "Please stand."

Again, Ryan and I exchanged quick and panicked glances, but rose to our feet along with everyone else. Harlow, I noticed, was staring with hard anger at the announcer - Sophie was the opposite. She looked with panic at the man's morose face, hands twisted anxiously in a knot in front of her stomach.

"Before the Penn State Nittany Lions take on the California Lions tonight, we ask for everyone's cooperation. Two weeks ago, the Penn State family lost a dear friend and fellow student at the hands of a tragic accident. Kimberley Morris, number eight on Penn State, was a hard-working, fun-loving and truly warm hearted young woman. Enrolled in pre-Med, she was involved in numerous extra curricular activities and had one of the most coveted spots on the Dean's Honor List. It is with great sadness today, that we bow our heads in silence in honor of the beautiful woman that was taken so cruelly from our lives. For number eight, Miss Kimberley Morris."

All around us, heads were bowed, and a silence consumed the entire gymnasium. Soft sobs could be heard from different parts of the room, but to pinpoint where they were coming from would've been impossible. I peeked below at the team, the majority of the girls standing on the court with their heads bowed. A little further back was Lindsey, her thin frame easily distinguishable from the rest of the girls. And behind her yet, barely in view - Harlow and Sophie.

But neither of their heads were bowed in silence - they were both staring straight ahead, at the frail pile of bones they'd both remembered as Lindsey.

I frowned, peeking at Ryan.

He too, was staring at the both of them, head slightly bowed, brow furrowed and eyes unblinking.

What were they staring at?

(Sophie)

It really couldn't possibly be.

There was no way, really. No possible way.

My eyes had to be deceiving me.

I batted at them with a closed fist, trying to brush away the tears I swear had to be there - but weren't. I blinked once, twice, fanatically twelve times in a row.

But still -

there she was.

In front of me, Lindsay stood silently, head bowed and hands clasped in front her. She was shivering slightly, but besides slight tremors I could detect no movement. It was what - or rather who - was to the left of her that had me completely stumped.

She looked like she always had. Maybe a bit paler, less ... solid. But she was there. Her short, petite frame. Black hair like a shining curtain down her back, skin pale but oddly glimmering. Her hand - still the tiny, delicate little one I remembered so vividly - was placed on Lindsey's frail left shoulder. There as no light around her. She wasn't see through. She was just simply ... there.

Kimmy.

I couldn't blink. Not anymore. I tried to turn, to look away - but my head wouldn't cooperate. I tried to say something, to talk - but I couldn't, I had no voice. I just stared.

And finally -

she turned.

She looked the same as always. Every detail about her face, I remembered. I saw those almond eyes, with premature wrinkles around the corners because of her constant cheer. I saw the smooth nose, the clean face. The smile, the one I'd always envied, that reached all the way up to her eyes. The face, her face, perfection and unchanged. Untarnished by whatever had happened to her that night. Still whole and untouched, still the face I loved, the face I swore that evening I'd never forget, never.

She was there.

Her hand still perched casually on Lindsey's shoulder, she gave a slight nod of her head and waved cheerfully with her free hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harlow's left hand move slightly, up a little, barely detectable, and give a small, two-fingered wave in Lindsey's general direction.

I managed, by some grace of God, to move my head slightly, look at the bleachers behind me. Everyone remained standing, heads bowed - no one saw it. Her. No one. I peered over to my left, and saw the most peculiar look on Harlow's face.

Pain, like there had been these last few weeks. Misery, that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her eyes. But she was smiling. Not a grin, not a full ear to ear beam. But a small smile. A resolute smile. A smile that didn't say 'Oh, I'm so happy to see you!'. It was more a smile you see at an airport. One still clearly visible under tears. One that said, very plainly, Goodbye.

I don't know when it started, no less how, but I felt hot tears spilling down my cheeks. I looked away from Harlow, back at the spot to Lindsey's left. She was still there. Paler, less solid than before, and continually fading right before my eyes - but she was still there.

I couldn't blink - I was scared to. What if I blinked and she disappeared? I couldn't lose her again, not again ...

But she was looking at me now. Kimmy. Kimmy was looking at me. She smiled, bigger yet, and gave another small wave. Her legs were nearly gone, fading completely into the background. Her torso was evaporating, arms slowly disintegrating before my eyes. Her face, her head - I could see right through it to the other wall. And right before she popped out of view, the second before she became nothing, I heard her voice. Still soft as silk, cheerful as it ever had been. I swore I'd never forget it, promised I'd never lose it. Those last words.

"Live and let live."

And she was gone.

I blinked, so many times I swear my eyeballs should've fallen out - but I didn't see her again. Not once. Not even a glimmer, not an outline, nothing. She was gone, as quickly as she'd come, she'd left once more.

I turned slightly, looked over at the spot on my left, and saw Harlow looking fixedly at me, face gaunt but jaw squared, eyes betraying no hint of welling, just serious and equally desperate.

"You see?" she said, so quietly I barely heard her.

I nodded, still unable to find my voice. Tears splashed down my front, but I barely noticed.

Harlow smiled, this time a happy one, a content one, a relieved one.

"I told you, Soph," she whispered, eyes now welling up. "I never would've lied to you."

"I'm sorry," I squeaked.

She smiled, bigger still, and grasped my hand firmly in her own.

"It's okay. It'll be okay."

Author's Note:

MERRY CHRISTMAS. HAPPY HANNUKAH. YAY KWANZA! And to all the other wonderful holiday things you people may or may not celebrate, happy hoildays!

Back with a chapter, going to try and do two or three more before I gotta go back to school! THINGS ARE RESOLVED, EVERYONE. Sophie and Harlow are friends again, we have some comfort in the knowledge that Kimmy is safe and okay! The team is back together! Ryan and Harlow are still together! We must all join hands now and sing and dance and squeal and hug and be the very best of jolly friends!

... Except I'm about to crank my angst and misery button to like 8000.

FOOOOOOLED YOU.

My thank yous!

akahitoha: my love! how i have missed you so terribly! it's wonderful to be back, more importantly, more wonderful to know you're alive and well, because my broken heart has mended once more! thank you for the review, much love and suffocatingly tight hugs!

heyymelx3: MELLLLLL my buell-watch buddy! how are you, wonderful? how is school, how is life, how are you? i'm so sorry to hear about your grandpa :( mine passed away over a decade ago, and my nanny a little over 3 years ago, and it's still tought to think about ... lots of love, bud, thanks for the review!

xForevermore: you're brilliant, new reviewer! welcome to my story, please stay forever and thanks a million for the review :)

haha95: THANK YOU DARLING! luckily it's mega long, so you have a lot of reading to do to bide your time as i update slower than molasses. i adore you, thanks so so so much for the review!

WELL, I am back! i didn't lie, see? i really did review ... true to my word! on to the next chapter, see you lovely readers very very soon, and thanks again, so much, to every single one of you who reads, reviews and enjoys the story! you make writing it worth while :)

love; ellah!