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classmates at our first school dance. He shrugged and glanced over at me.
    “Guess we might as well dance,” he said. “Since we’re here and all.”

CHAPTER 6
     
    Walking into Spencer’s memorial service on Saturday felt like an out-of-body experience. Nothing seemed real—not Reverend Blake’s words as he greeted us at the door, not the many fragrant flower arrangements perfuming the air, not Lesa and Kristen, who had flown home from college to be with me and to say their own good-byes. They’d known Spencer all his life, had treated him like the little brother they didn’t have.
    All the voices around me sounded muffled and very far away. I imagined that must be what it felt like to be high—disconnected from everything and everyone around me.
    I spotted Monica Belanov hugging Lindsay near a large photo of a smiling Spencer. I remembered that picture. It’d been during Tundra Books’ midnight release party for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows . Somehow, the choice of that photo rang perfect, and also tremendously wrong.
    “Come on, sweetie,” Lesa said, as she guided me forward.
    I wanted to run away and pretend this wasn’t happening, this finality to Spencer’s life. But I didn’t have the strength. I’d probably trip in the black Nine West pumps I was wearing and fall face-first in the church vestibule.
    My sisters must have sensed my hesitation as we headed for the front of the sanctuary, because they held on to me even more firmly as we walked.
    When we reached Monica and Lindsay, Monica hugged me. I held on to her with what little strength I had. Lindsay had difficulty meeting my eyes, but after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled me to her. We clung to each other until Mom steered us toward Spencer’s parents.
    I balked. “I can’t. I’m not ready.”
    Mom tried to guide me forward, but I refused to move.
    “Just give me a couple minutes.” I spun around and headed toward the restroom as if it were my salvation.
    When I reached the rose and off-white sitting area for the restroom, I braced myself against the sink and tried to get my ragged breathing under control. I was concentrating on an exhale when Lindsay came through the door. Without a word, she wetted a paper towel and handed it to me. I pressed it against my forehead. In the mirror, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes: the red-rimmed evidence of earlier tears.
    I shook my head slowly. “I can’t go back out there. I can’t face this.”
    Lindsay’s look hardened as she met my eyes in the mirror. “You can, and you will. I know you’re hurting, but today isn’t about you. We have to be strong for Spencer’s parents. They’ve lost their only child.” Lindsay’s voice broke, but she cleared her throat in an attempt at hiding it.
    Her words sank through my sorrow. Some tiny reserve of strength told me I could be brave for the next hour or two, for Spencer’s parents, who were like a second mom and dad to me.
    My head spun as I walked slowly toward the door.
    When I reentered the sanctuary and approached Mr. and Mrs. Isaacs, I saw the distraught look on Spencer’s mom’s face. In that moment, I hated Lindsay for making me do this.
    Mrs. Isaacs wrapped me in her arms and squeezed me like it might bring Spencer back. “He loved you so much,” she said in my ear.
    I ached that I’d never hear him say those words to me the way I’d wanted. I swallowed past the painful lump in my throat. “I loved him, too,” I whispered.
    I sat through the service, listening to eulogies for the boy I’d loved with all my heart. I stared at his picture, half believing it would spring to life.
    “Winter Craig has asked to say a few words,” Reverend Blake said.
    I still couldn’t believe I’d offered to speak. But as I’d looked at my bookshelves the night before and realized that books written by Spencer would never be among them, I’d felt compelled to share some of his words.
    My entire body shook as I rose to my feet.