Skeletons Out of the Closet

by M. Katherton

  Banners lined the hallway saying “Pray for Emelia and Karli”, “Fly High, Hannah and Grace”, and “#SeaviewStrong” as if that could change or mend what happened. Word around school was that both Emelia and Karli had been released from the hospital but I figured it would be a while before they returned to school.

  Principal Carson held an assembly during second period to address the situation after giving everybody the weekend to process it. He gave a spiel about how grief counselors would be on campus all week if students needed to talk and informed us about Hannah and Grace’s memorial services scheduled for later in the week. I thought the purpose of the assembly was to make sure everyone knew about resources on campus but things soured when Principal Carson reminded everyone that students were not permitted to leave campus during school hours and implied that if the girls in the accident had obeyed the rules that the crash could have been avoided. Though we all knew there was some truth to that statement, casting the car wreck as a consequence for Emelia, Hannah, Grace, and Karli for breaking the rules was a low blow.

  “That’s messed up, man!” Some guy shouted from the back of the auditorium.

  “Yeah, leave them alone! It’s not like they can go back and change it!” A girl wearing a cheerleading hoodie down the row from me chimed in.

  “Alright, alright!” Principal Carson shouted into the microphone as more students voiced their discontent. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to sound harsh. From now on, please don’t leave campus without permission during the school day. Security will be posted at all parking lots.”

  This led to more groaning and booing from the student body. Emelia and her friends were not the only students to sneak off campus and the administration was stupid if they believed otherwise. Regardless of what Principal Carson thought, I didn’t believe the car wreck was the world punishing them for breaking the rules.

  As I helped Macy with math homework after school since Mom had to work, my phone buzzed on the kitchen table. I expected it to be Mom or Ross asking what we wanted to do for dinner but instead, Emelia’s name popped up on my screen.

  Want to come over today? I'm couch-ridden and bored.

  If Mom didn’t get home by five I would have to drive Macy to dance and couldn’t commit to anything just in case. I did want to visit Emelia though and hoped I would have another opportunity.

  I have to look after my siblings today. Tomorrow maybe?

  A few minutes passed without response and I feared Emelia thought I was blowing her off. However, when she finally replied, the text said:

  Tomorrow works :)

  Tuesday, April 9th, 2019

  Memories flooded back as I hiked up the steep driveway to the Christiansens’ gray brick two-story house on Bamboo Drive. I lost my first tooth here during Emelia’s sixth birthday sleepover and hid out in Emelia's closet one day after school in eighth grade when my phone got stolen out of my gym locker and I thought Mom would never forgive me. So many sleepovers and memories had happened in this house. I never thought I would step foot in it again after our fight. Now here I was.

  Travis, Emelia’s even-tempered father opened the door. He looked the same as he had when I last saw him except his once-brown hair was now gray and he had a few more wrinkles on his face.

  “Hey Jessica,” he greeted, obviously prepared for my arrival. “Em’s upstairs.”

  Emelia was an only child and essentially had the whole upstairs of the house to herself. Barbara and Travis wanted more children but did not marry until their thirties and had trouble conceiving again after Emelia. When we were in kindergarten, Barbara got pregnant but unfortunately miscarried just days after Emelia brought the sonogram pictures to class and announced she was going to be a big sister. Mom gave birth to Macy a year later and though Emelia never overtly said it, she always seemed a little jealous that I had a little sister and she didn’t.

  The house still smelled like Barbara’s favorite wall plug-in scent called “Happy Day” and they still had the same gray leather couches. I climbed the carpeted stairs to find Emelia in the smaller upstairs bedroom which she called her “office”, complete with a couch, desk, and TV. Not much had changed since the last time I had been in here except now there was a mini-fridge plugged in by the closet. Emelia sat lounged on the couch, her leg in a purple cast, propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. She had stitches in her lip, a black eye, and other random bruises here and there. I didn’t know what I had expected but she looked terrible.

  “Hey.” I greeted unsurely, hovering in the doorway like I had never been here before.

  “Hey.” She smiled, then winced in pain from stretching her lip. “Come in. I’m not contagious.”

  “How are you feeling?” I asked as I sat down on the opposite end of her orange linen couch. When we were in sixth grade, Barbara drove us home from the mall one day and Emelia spotted it for free on the side of the road. She begged Travis to go back for it with his truck when we got back to her house and he did, a true testimony to how much he adored his daughter.

  “My whole body hurts.” She answered honestly. “But I wouldn’t trade places with anyone else in the car.”

  I didn’t know what Karli’s injuries were but I guessed they were worse. Paige told me yesterday morning she had heard Karli wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and got a concussion from hitting her head against the headrest. Emelia gave me a rundown of her own injuries – broken leg, sprained wrist, busted lip, whiplash – and her objectivity astounded me. Two of her best friends died in the crash but she could still talk about it like she was regurgitating a story she had seen on the news.

  “Anyway, I don’t think I’m gonna cheer next year. My doctor said I can as long as I do physical therapy all summer and show improvements but I just don’t have it in me.” She confessed after telling me all about the crash and her experience in the hospital.

  “Really? Even though it’ll be senior year?” I couldn’t imagine not seeing Emelia prance around the hallways in her cheerleading uniform on game days or on top of the pyramid at pep rallies. Though cheerleading was what tore us apart, it had become such a part of her and I didn’t know if I could separate the two.

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “I was already thinking about quitting before the crash. But now everything will be different. Hannah and Grace are gone. I don’t know if Karli will cheer next year. Half our squad is graduating. I don’t know. My heart’s not in it anymore.”

  I nodded along, not sure if I should try to dissuade her from quitting even though two years ago it was all I wanted. I wanted her to do whatever would make her happiest but I worried the wanting to quit was just a coping method of not dealing with her emotions from the wreck.

  “I was gonna do it senior year just to finish it out. But after the crash, I don’t want to waste a second of my life doing things I don’t want to do.”

  “I get that. Life’s too short.” I acknowledged, thinking back to my own situation with my dad.

  “I just want to go back to how things used to be.” She continued. “Having a chill life, not having to wear makeup or look presentable all the time, not spending all summer at cheer camps and every afternoon at practice and every weekend at football games or competitions. I just want to fly under the radar and be a normal teenager again.”

  “That may take a while.” I warned, thinking of all the crash-related banners lining every wall of the school. “But if that’s what you want, that’s what you should do.”

  “Thanks, Jess.” She grinned, wincing again with her lip.

  We hung out for a few more hours, reminiscing about past times and catching up. I told her more about my dad and the fight with my mom and how the wreck brought us back together. Before I left to go home for dinner, she asked me for a favor.

  “So I know you didn’t know Hannah or Grace that well, but I wanted to know if you would go to the funerals with me? Tomorrow and Thursday. I know it’s short notice and you have to babysit a lot, but I would just feel better if you wer
e there.”

  I swallowed, knowing I couldn’t turn her down but that Hannah and Grace’s funerals were the last places I wanted to go. I feared I wouldn’t be well received by their families if they were unaware of our history and thought Emelia had quickly moved on to another friend. I had to be there for her though. I had already lost her once in ninth grade then almost lost her permanently last week. I couldn’t lose her again. She needed me now and I had to go. I wanted to be there for her however I could, even if that meant doing things that made me uncomfortable.

  Wednesday, April 10th, 2019

  The first and only funeral I went to was my great-grandma’s when I was thirteen. She lived far away and I only saw her a few times a year so the loss was minor to me. However, it was the first time I ever saw my mother completely fall apart. I sat in the second row with Ross, five-year-old Macy, and three-year-old Spencer as Mom sat in the row in front of us with Kathleen and my grandparents. As soon as the pianist started Amazing Grace, Mom started wailing. Kathleen wrapped as arm around her, taking on the role of the brave big sister though she looked like she wanted to cry too. I didn't remember much about the funeral now, but that moment stuck out vividly to me. I didn’t know if I could take Hannah and Grace's mothers sobbing in the front rows of their funerals. Losing a grandparent was traumatic enough but losing a child had to be world shattering.

  I rode to Hannah’s service with the Christiansens. Mom let me borrow a black dress she wore to Ross’ sister’s wedding about five years ago. It was a little big for me but did the job. It was simple enough that I hoped nobody would notice when I wore the same thing to Grace’s service tomorrow. With everybody so grief-stricken, I doubted anyone would take note of my fashion choices anyway.

  However, with Emelia on crutches, all eyes were on us as we entered the funeral home. The place was flooded with kids from school. Hannah was popular and knew a lot of people so it wasn’t surprising. If I died, most people probably wouldn’t even know who I was, but Hannah Jefferson was on the homecoming court every year, front and center in every cheer routine, and crushed on by every guy in school. There wouldn’t be an empty seat in the house.

  I thought Emelia would want to sit with the cheer squad and I braced myself for all the awkward looks I would get for not fitting in but instead she told her parents she wanted to sit at the back. A few people came up to her and asked how she was doing but otherwise, she did her best to blend in with the crowd. The attention-loving, top-of-the-pyramid Emelia was gone.

  Though the Hannah I saw at school had always seemed a little promiscuous and superficial, the pastor officiating the service went on about how she was a woman of God and how she was finally home. I tuned most of it out as I hadn’t grown up religiously and didn’t know what I believed in. Instead, I watched the people at the front of the chapel. A middle-aged couple that I presumed to be Hannah’s parents sat in the first row, arms wrapped around each other. Two brunette children sat beside them, a boy and a girl probably around thirteen and ten, presumably Hannah’s siblings. I couldn’t fathom how much their life had turned upside down last week. Barbara sobbed throughout the entire funeral, probably imaging what life would be like if Emelia was in the casket instead of Hannah.

  Though a large number of people cried at the funeral, including the row of cheerleaders a few pews in front of us, Emelia sat beside me like a stone the entire time. Karli was nowhere in sight. I didn’t know if she was too injured to attend or if she had chosen not to, but I wondered if there was more to the car wreck than either of them were telling.

  Hannah’s body must have been brutal because the funeral was closed-casket. People were allowed to go up to the casket after the service and pay their respects but Emelia claimed she didn’t want to. Barbara insisted she did and encouraged me to go with her. We stood silently by the casket for a few seconds to humor Barbara. When Hannah’s parents saw Emelia, they cried and gently hugged her, careful to avoid her injuries. Though it must have been hard, they told Emelia how glad they were that she was okay and how blessed she was. Emelia, still dry-eyed, introduced them to me as Beth and Luke and they were polite to me despite probably secretly wondering why I was here as Hannah likely never mentioned me since we were never friends.

  Emelia insisted I spend the night. We spent the evening watching Boy Meets World reruns, Emelia’s favorite show since sixth grade. However, about three episodes in, Emelia randomly admitted,

  “We were fighting over the radio.”

  “What?”

  She took a deep breath as her blue eyes watered after suppressing emotion all evening. “We crashed because I was fighting with Hannah over the radio. That stupid You’re My Girl song came on and I tried to change it and she got mad and tried to change it back. She lost control of the car and we hit the tree. Now she and Grace are dead. Because of me. Because I hate country music.”

  Her confession sucked the air out of me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to comfort her.

  “Karli won’t speak to me.” She continued. “I’ve texted her so many times and she won’t respond. I’ve even called her house but her mom says she’s asleep or too tired to talk. Then she didn’t come to the funeral. Probably ‘cause she didn’t want to see me. I feel so guilty.”

  “Emelia, it was an accident. It’s not your fault.” I assured though I doubted I could ever convince her otherwise.

  She shrugged, tears rolling down her face. “It should have been me. It wasn’t fair that I messed up and Hannah died and Grace died and I didn’t. Everyone blames Hannah because she was driving. But it was my fault. If I had just listened to that stupid song, none of this ever would have happened. I wish it would have been me instead.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I insisted again. “Who knows? It still might have happened even if you hadn’t fought over the radio. Roads were slick that day. Ross said he saw a wreck happen on his way to work that morning too.”

  “I don’t know…” Emelia stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t stop thinking about it. And seeing Hannah’s parents tonight and how distraught they were. And having to go through it all again tomorrow at Grace’s funeral. I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to go.”

  “Everyone will think I’m responsible if I don’t show. It’s only a matter of time before Karli tells everyone what really happened. And my parents will make me go. Grace was supposed to be my best friend. Then I killed her.”

  “You didn’t.”

  She stuck her head in the arm of the couch and sobbed until she passed out from exhaustion. I covered her with a blanket, turned off the TV, then curled up on the other end of the couch, my brain still processing all that she had told me. Though I didn’t think Emelia was responsible, I didn’t think anyone would be able to convince her otherwise.

  Thursday, April 11th, 2019

  Emelia was excused from school all week so I left her a note when I got up and told her I had borrowed her clothes and would see her after school for Grace’s funeral. I couldn’t stop thinking about all she had told me last night as I sat in my car waiting for the first period bell. I wished she would talk to her parents about how she was feeling and seek professional help. Barbara had talked on the way to the funeral last night about getting a recommendation for a counselor from one of her friends but Emelia immediately shut it down. I was happy she was confiding in me but despite how many of Mr. Wallace’s psychology lessons I daydreamed through, I couldn’t replace a professional.

  Hannah’s funeral was the topic of the day at school, particularly how Emelia was aloof and Karli was a no-show. In algebra II, as I fished out the homework I had half-assed the period before, Kyla Rogers approached me. I had never spoken to her but I knew she was on the cheer squad. She looked me up and down, possibly noticing I was wearing Emelia’s clothes which consisted of a purple v-neck with cats on it and gray joggers.

  “How do you know Emelia?”

  “I’ve known her since kindergarten.” I answered, not feeli
ng like going into details about our turbulent falling out with this near-stranger.

  Kyla looked skeptical, probably wondering why Emelia had never mentioned me before. I thought she might call me out on that but instead asked, “what’s wrong with her? She didn’t speak to any of us yesterday and won’t respond to our texts. Saw you with her at the funeral last night. Is she mad at us?”

  Though she didn’t specify who us was, I knew it was the cheer squad. I didn’t know for sure why Emelia hadn’t spoken to any of her teammates but I guessed it had to do with the guilt she felt over Hannah and Grace’s death. I wasn’t going to tell that to Kyla though. It wasn't my information to share.

  “I think she’s still processing everything.” I replied.

  Kyla rolled her eyes like she knew I was withholding information and trotted back over to her own desk on the opposite side of the room.

  I didn’t think going to the funeral with Emelia would be a big deal but plenty of people noticed. At lunch, as Ryan and I ate at a picnic table, I was approached by Ashleigh Kares, a girl who went to elementary school with Emelia and me. She was a journalist for the school paper, which had produced multiple articles about the crash since last week, probably the big break the newspaper staff had been waiting for. Ashleigh wanted to know if I would ask Emelia about doing an interview for an article about surviving the crash. Though I thought it was completely insensitive, I smiled and told Ashleigh I would ask her, not up for confrontation.

  “Wow, you’re like a celebrity now.” Ryan commented, less enthusiastic than a childless relative forced to attend a Chuck E Cheese birthday party. Dating the person who was now Emelia’s mystery friend and getting unwanted attention by association probably was not the way he hoped his senior year would end.

  “I hate it. I wish everybody would leave Emelia alone. Grief does weird things to people. They shouldn’t judge her.” I vented, figuring Ryan would take my side. Instead, he just added to the gossip.