I was lying in my bed, arm was thrown over my eyes and earphones blasting music through my ears from my phone. I’d pretty much been doing the same thing for the past couple days. Yesterday particularly had been bad.

I need to get up and get ready…

The thought came up in my mind, but I could hardly bring myself to move.

It was just so fucking messed up…

I had wondered, how other people knew about Rod’s death. The news could spread around the town easily by word of mouth alone. It wasn’t that big a town. People would know, and they would tell other people.

But I’d made the mistake of stepping out of the house a few days back, and that had been a fucking mistake. I already knew my best friend was dead. Going around town and seeing reminders everywhere…had been a kind of nightmare for me.

Today of all days, I didn’t want disturbances from anybody. The funeral wasn’t until late in the afternoon, for the public at least. His family would probably be ready way earlier. I had an alarm set up to warn me when the time came. My music would cut off when it went off.

That happened way earlier than I expected, though. Only, I looked, the noise that came through instead wasn’t my alarm.

Someone was calling me.

I frowned at my phone and picked it up. Could it be someone from school or something? I hadn't talked to anyone since I stopped going. By now, the news must have reached the school, so I was sure they knew why, at least. No one had texted or called; I’d just gotten a few notifications from my social media accounts that I’d ignored. I wasn’t interested in talking to anyone from school.

They would all ask about Rod, and as much as I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I couldn’t bear to talk about it, either.

It couldn’t possibly be Stacey, I thought with a snort.

But then, I picked up my phone and held it up, and almost dropped it on my face when I saw her name flashing on my screen.

Fuck.

I’d been trying hard not to think about Stacey. I could still remember how devastated she looked, and how that had hurt, seeing her in so much pain and being unable to help her. But, I also remembered the words she’d spoken.

I knew she was hurting. But I hated her a little just for that. I wasn’t proud of what my mom had done, and was still doing. I didn’t hate her, but I wasn’t happy with her, either. That said, I didn’t appreciate Stacey calling my mother a whore.

Besides, she’d said ‘your family.’ She wasn’t blaming only my mom.

Not wanting to talk to her, I cut off the call. Something inside me died as I did it, but I wasn’t in the mood.

The music had just started playing when it was cut off again.

I sat up with a growl and answered the call.

“What!” I growled.

The line was silent on the other end, but only for a moment.

“Kevin,” her voice came. “I wanted to talk to you—”

“I can't right now,” I said, cutting her off abruptly. “I just want to relax, Stacey. Can we please talk later?”

She paused. “Kevin?” she said, tentative.

I grimaced. Her voice sounded so small, and I wanted to hit myself. I was in a bad mood, but there was no reason to aim it at her. Not when she was going through her shit. I’d never talked to her in that tone of voice before. It must have surprised her. I took in a deep breath and sighed it out, then lay back down, calming myself.

“Look, Stacey,” I said, sounding tired. “I can't talk right now, all right? Try me back in a few days.”

“But this is important,” she complained. “I swear, Kevin, just listen—”

“Haven’t I taken enough of a beating already?”

Another pause. “What?”

I huffed a small laugh. “I suppose I should thank you for saying all that, though. I mean, once the truth comes out, I’ll be getting that kind of shit around town, you know? So will my mom.”

“Kevin, I…” she hesitated. “About what I said that day…”

“None of it was wrong,” I murmured. “I mean, I kinda hate it, but that’s how everyone is going to see my mom, you know? The whore that broke a family apart. Your poor brother died while trying to help his mother keep his family together. All the blame, falling right on my mom’s shoulders. And, from her to me, for being her son.” I paused to snicker. “How could I not know what my mom was doing? And Rod was my best friend! I’m going to get some hate for that.”

“That wasn’t what I meant!” Stacey said frantically. “I swear. Kevin. I was just upset that morning. And I overheard a conversation my dad was having with your mom, something about them renting a house.”

Ah. So that was it.

Things might have been better if I hadn't stopped talking to her in the first place.

For this much, I could blame myself. Leaving her to deal with losing her brother alone was a mistake. Not talking to her about what it meant that our parents were having an affair was a mistake. Not telling her after my mom told me she, me, and Stacey’s dad would be moving into a rented house together, was a mistake.

So many…

“I’m sorry, Stacey,” I murmured. “I already knew about that. My mom told me.”

I heard a sharp intake of breath; then there was silence. After a while; “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, Stacey. I figured you’d find it out on your own, but you should have gotten the news from me.”

“We’ll get back to that later,” she said in warning. “But there was something else I called to talk to you about, f—”

“Did you know that there are posters up of Rod in town?” I asked.

“There are?” she asked, sounding surprised. “No one told me…”

“No one told me, either,” I said bitterly. “I went outside, and I noticed them. Posters of his death that show the date, time and venue of the funeral.”

“I don’t even know all that.” I could practically see her frowning on the other end. “Though I guess I haven’t talked to either of my parents recently.”

“Yeah. The picture they used is his yearbook photo from last year. You remember?”

“I do,” she answered softly. “He hated that photo. Said the background made him look all ridiculous. If he knew they were using that…”

He would have hated it. He’d told me once, that he’d wanted to burn his high school yearbook, and nearly took mine and Stacey’s for the same purpose. His mom insisting against it was the only reason he let it stand. So going out and seeing it everywhere had been especially trying for me, especially when I’d gone to get some air and think, after Stacey’s little blow up at me.

Out of all the pictures of him they could have picked, it was the only one where he was wearing a suit—one his mom bought for him—but it was also the worst choice.

I couldn’t look at the picture, and think; this was my best friend. So I’d gone home, ignored my mom, and locked myself up in my bedroom, and had nightmares of the crash the next few nights. At the end of it, I’d see that picture and Rod complaining about it. If not for the crash, that ending might have even been a little funny, because I could picture him perfectly giving out the arguments.

I hadn't even eaten since besides a bag of chips I’d had in there with me. I hoped, if they showed a picture at the funeral, they at least used a different picture.

“So you can see why I don’t want to talk to anyone, don’t you?” I said. “I don’t want to act cold to you, but I need some space to be with myself right now, okay Stacey? We…can talk about it after the funeral.”

She might just tell me things are over between us, I thought. If she’s going to break up with me, I’d rather it be after, anyway.

“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll give you your space. I’m sorry, Kevin.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat as she hung up, and ignored the tears sliding down my cheeks.

I miss you, Stacey.

Why didn’t I just fucking tell her that?