Breaking Dawn by Donna Shelton

service, it was a short one. The day seems to be lacking in grand gestures for Perry. So when the time comes for the priest to invite family and friends up to give their own personalfarewell or relate a special memory, even I don’t volunteer.
    In less than an hour, we are all going our separate ways and climbing into our cars, waiting for the hearse to lead the way to the burial site down the road. There is still no sign of Perry’s mom. Whatever her reasons for not coming, it’s left me feeling bitter, but at the same time somehow envious.
    The drive through the cemetery is a long one. Over a thousand acres of stones, mausoleums, tributes and resting sites. There are small paved roads running throughout the cemetery, making visitation easy and accessible. There is some cleared land offering burial sites for sale to those who want to plan ahead. This is The Hills of Rest Cemetery.
    Once we come to the burial site, we all park in one line and wait around the cars as the casket is set up where the pit has been dug. After about 20 minutes we are all escorted to the site where Perry will be laid to rest forever in the cold, dark ground.
    Flowers have been set up around the grave and on top of the casket. It is cold and everyone is bundled up in gloves and hats and coats that cover the Sunday-best funeral clothes. I’m glad. People shouldn’t dress up like they’re ready to party when the occasion is a funeral.
    I close my eyes and listen to the priest as he speaks. It’s a speech like those I’ve heard in the movies. As I listen to the priest’s prayers, I wonder how my parents were able to convince a Catholic priest to preside over a homosexual boy who’s committed suicide. For that matter, Perry really wasn’t Catholic, or even religious. I will definitely have to ask about this someday.
    ‘…We commend to Almighty God our brother Perry Daniels; and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen.’
    In the still cold air of the day, the priest pushes his toe to a lever and the casket starts to descend slowly into the ground. Everyone stands still, silently watching. And Perry is gone.

CHAPTER 8
    When we get back home, I go straight up to my room. I am too exhausted to do anything other than merely exist. Hell, I don’t even want to do that. As soon as I close my bedroom door, I start taking off my black mourning clothes, dropping them onto the floor. I’m not even kicking them to the side. I lift my heavy dressing gown off the hook of my wardrobe door and slip it on. Wrapping myself in the comfort of its warmth and tying the sash tightly about my waist, I drop down onto my bed and lay back, closing my eyes. Inhale, exhale. All I need to do is breathe.
    Inhale.
    I have to clear my mind.
    Exhale.
    Don’t think.
    Inhale.
    Don’t remember.
    Exhale.
    Just don’t.
    I want to fall asleep, but it seems like no matter how long I lie here, I just can’t slip away. My eyes keep opening. I don’t want them to open. My body just isn’t ready to call it a day. For some reason, I think of Perry’s bag sitting in the corner. It’s been in the house for days and I have yet to rummage through it. Should I even
be
rummaging through it?
    I sit up and look at the bag. There is nothing special about it; it’s just a blue and grey bag full of school books. I get up and walk over to it. Kneeling down on both knees,I touch the zipper. I shouldn’t do this. What might I see?
    I pull the zipper and open the bag. There’s a maths book, a social studies book and a few notebooks and folders. I finger through the notebooks until I find one that catches my attention. Written on the cover in black marker is: JOURNAL – GRADE 10 in large bold letters. Somehow this is morbidly enticing. I pluck it out and take it back to my bed.
    I’m holding the notebook. Why did I take this