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didn’t try to do anything fancy with her hair but left it down. Her natural curls were straightened by its length, just past her shoulders.
    Sophie and Regan, who sat on either side of her in the limousine, were also dressed in black.
    Regan held on to Cordie’s hand. “When we get to the church, I’ll take your cardigan and your clutch. Is your phone in there?”
    “Yes,” Cordie answered.
    “Make sure it’s turned off.”
    “I already did.”
    “I can’t believe your father’s gone,” Regan whispered.
    “What did he tell you just before he died?” Sophie asked. “You said there was one surprise, remember?”
    If there was a secret, Sophie had to know what it was. She couldn’t help herself. She worked for a newspaper and was always looking for the next story. Her dream was to be an investigative reporter, but for now she was in charge of the food section and wrote about new recipes. Regan and Cordie thought the irony was quite funny since Sophie didn’t know the first thing about cooking. She had learned how to make one pasta dish that was passable, but that was it.
    Smiling, Cordie said, “I also remember telling you that I would explain what the surprise was after the funeral. Today is about his life. Tonight I’ll tell you. I promise.”
    Still fishing for a hint, Sophie said, “It must be a big deal. Otherwise you would have told us. You tell us everything.”
    Both Regan and Cordie laughed. “That’s
you,
” Regan said. “Of the three of us, you’re the one who can’t keep a secret.”
    The friends fell silent as the somber procession turned off the main thoroughfare and made its way through the streets of run-down apartments and dilapidated houses toward St. Matthew’s.
    “When we get to the church . . . ,” Cordie began, and then hesitated.
    “Yes?” Sophie asked.
    “Eight of the students my father worked with are going to be the pallbearers. They had a special place in his heart, but I want you to know they can be a little territorial with one another.”
    “What does that mean?” Sophie asked.
    “They’re at-risk kids,” Regan answered.
    “Some are,” Cordie agreed. “There might be some pushing and shoving. You know, boy stuff. Nothing to worry about,” she assured them.
    “Do you think many students will attend?” Sophie asked.
    “No,” Cordie answered. “It’s a Saturday. They’re kids. The last place they want to be is in church. I don’t expect—” She stopped abruptly. The limousine had just turned onto Grant Street, and there in front of the church, filling the sidewalk from corner to corner and spilling out into the street, were the students of St. Matthew’s High School. It looked as though most of the student body had turned out, and all the boys wore their school uniforms: khaki pants, white shirt, and navy blazer with the school emblem on the pocket. The boys were waiting quietly, their expressions solemn. Each class stood together, with the seniors in front. The second the limousine driver turned the motor off, two students stepped forward to open the door. The taller boy pushed the other aside to get to the handle. A transfer student named Victor won the push and shove. One of Cordie’s favorite students, he was a math whiz but thus far hadn’t developed a lick of sense. He opened the door, grasped her hand, and yanked her out. Her feet actually left the ground, but fortunately she landed feetfirst on the sidewalk. Sophie and Regan were given assistance as well. It didn’t matter if they wanted help or not. Both were hauled out and deposited next to Cordie.
    Alec and Jack were waiting on the church steps. When they saw the crowd engulf the women, they rushed down and pushed their way through the teen mob.
    “That guy has a gun,” one student whispered loud enough for Cordie to hear.
    Before she could explain who they were, another student said, “Both of them have guns.”
    “How come they get to bring guns into the church?”
    Cordie