Page 111 of As You Walk On

“My parents insisted I visit his grave. Process things,” River continues. “All I wanted was to stay in bed. Be alone.”

Our arms brush as we turn a corner.

“I was the biggest asshole to them,” says River, pushing fringe out of their eyes. “I thought I knew what was best for... me.”

I stir around my melting slush.

“Anyway, sometimes we’re jerks to the people who actually care. I don’t think those moments define us or them.”

They pause again, but this time to snap a panoramic photo of the slow-bruising sky. I stand away from the camera’s lens.

“I’m also sorry I didn’t invite the others along,” I say.

Because, other than Makayla, they’re still not acknowledging my existence at school.

“It’s cool,” says River nonchalantly.

“You sure?”

Even with the red straw between their lips, their smile is ever present. “Mmhmm.” Their face scrunches after another rush of too much cold slush.

“Slow down,” I say around a laugh. “Savor it.”

“There’s a lot less pressure to do this without...” River starts after a minute. “An audience.”

We stop at a crosswalk. Across the street is a huge, rusted iron gate, open wide like a shark’s mouth waiting to swallow anyone who passes. River doesn’t seem bothered by how long it takes for the signal to change. I get it. This is an overwhelming step.

“To be honest,” they say as we finally cross, “the night of the party? I didn’t want to do it with everyone watching.”

Guilt fills my chest.

I’m the one who dared River to visit the cemetery with all of us. I never thought of what that’d be like. To say goodbye to someone with strangers watching.

Dad wouldn’t let me go to Granny’s funeral. He said I was too young. He didn’t want my last memories of her to be a closed casket sinking into the ground. I was so mad at him then. How could he take my choice away? The chance to see her one last time.

Now I realize he was right.

I’m glad my last memory is being curled with her in the hospital bed—even though I wasn’t supposed to be—watching reruns of her favorite TV shows.

We dump our slush cups outside the gates. River pulls up a map on their phone. We follow it. The sun’s still up, but there’s a strangeness about being in the cemetery. It’s not terrifying. More like an odd, sad comfort. Headstones everywhere. Bodies in the ground. It’s almost as if a peace hovers overhead.

Nothing can hurt them now.

Devaughn’s grave is covered in colorful flowers. Someone’s recently cleared off the stone marker. The gold-scripted dates make me nauseous.

Fifteen years old.

River bends down to pick up an anime character plushie from the flowers.

“Goku fromDBZ,” they whisper with a short laugh. “God, he could be so unoriginal with his favorites.” They grin. “Just like you.”

“Hey!” I nudge their shoulder before wrapping an arm around them as they begin to tremble.

River quietly sobs. I blink at the petals swaying in the breeze. Sunlight skims over hundreds of headstones. The noiselessness is broken up by chirping birds.

River doesn’t seem ready to speak, so I do.

“I can’t imagine not having my pops around,” I say to the sky.

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