A/N: Song for this chapter is "Missing You" by The Vamps. Get your tissues!!

"You look really pretty. I'm glad I forced you to buy that dress," Levi says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I try to smile, but my face hurts from crying. For the past five days, all I've done is cry. I haven't gone to work. I've barely slept, barely eaten. At least I know my body can still produce tears properly.

"Today is going to be hard," he goes on, "but I'll be right there next to you. I hardly knew her, but—"

"But nothing," I interrupt him. "Thank you for coming today, Levi. It means a lot to me."

"Of course." He pulls me into his arms. He smells like Armani and aftershave. "Gemma, it would take an army to keep me from that funeral."

"I just... I can't believe she did this." I hug him tighter, thankful for his friendship, for his constant, unwavering support. "It's so selfish, you know?"

He pulls away. "Selfish? I was thinking more along the lines of tragic and devastating and absolutely heartbreaking."

"That, too, obviously," I reply. "Don't you at least thing it's a little selfish, though? I mean, she has a daughter."

"I understand that," he says, "but we don't know what she was going through. When I was in high school, I was super depressed. I was so messed up that I thought about taking my own life all the time."

"Yeah, but you never went through with it. Besides, you had an actual reason to be depressed. You told your parents you were gay, and they threatened to send you to conversion therapy."

"Gemma, people don't need 'reasons' to be depressed. It's not a side effect of some greater tragedy. Sometimes, it is the tragedy."

I shake my head, unable to feel sorry for Raelyn, at least not yet. When she ended her life, she uprooted the rest of ours. None of us—me, my family, her little girl, or anyone else who loved her—will ever be the same again.

"We should go. I don't want to be late," I say, fetching my coat off the rack.

He lets out a sigh. "Gem—"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I interject. "I just don't get it. I don't see how downing an entire bottle of sleeping pills is the solution to any problem."

He shakes his head. "That's because it's not a solution. At the risk of sounding cliché, suicide is never the answer. Raelyn probably just... didn't know that."

I still don't understand, and I don't think I want to understand. What could have been so bad that she thought killing herself was the only way to stop it?

I guess I'll never know now.

Levi and I drive to the funeral home in silence. It's December, so it's too cold for a properburial—not that it matters, as Raelyn wrote in her will that she wanted to be cremated—but my parents and I agreed that having a formal funeral would be beneficial for everyone.

Other than Evangeline, Raelyn didn't have any family. Her dad abandoned her when she was a baby, her mom lost custody of her because she couldn't stay sober for more than five minutes, and Grandma Harriet died of lung cancer the summer after our high school graduation. My parents used to jokingly call her their fourth child, but considering how upset they were when they heard the news of her passing, and how proactive they've been in taking care of the funeral arrangements, I'm beginning to realize that they truly did love her like she was their own.

Levi parks his bright orange Audi and ushers us inside. We're directed down a long, dimly lit hallway that leads to a chapel. I've never been to church. I know this isn't an actual church, but I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do, if there's some sort of gesture I'm supposed to make. Levi, who was raised by Southern Baptists, just walks right in and takes a seat in the front.

Several minutes later, Dad, Mom, Benson, and Bowie arrive. Mom claims the seat beside me and pulls me into her arms. She's been a mess the past few days. We all have.

"Hey, little sis," Benson greets me. He ruffles my hair—a gesture I despise—and then drapes one arm over my shoulders. "How you holding up?"

"I've seen better days," I admit.

"Haven't we all?" Bowie mutters under his breath.

I stare at my family and swallow hard. Today will not be easy for us, but I'm thankful to have them here.

The Beauforts have always been an interesting bunch. We're not like other families. For starters, Dad is white and Mom is black. I know that it's almost 2016 and that it shouldn't be a big deal anymore, but it is. Benson and I are the epitome of biracial children. Everything about us is light brown: our skin, our hair, even our eyes. Bowie, our baby brother, takes after Dad. He's fair-haired, blue-eyed, and as pale as a sheet.

Despite Bowie's distinguished appearance, Benson has always been the family favorite, although my parents would never admit to it. He graduated from college at the top of his class and works for a high-profile company called Lionspace as a laboratory technician. I haven't the slightest clue what he actually does for a living, just that he's insanely bright, he's effortlessly good at everything he tries—school, sports, maintaining a social life—and he has never done anything wrong in his life. I would be envious, but he's so god damn nice that I can't be upset with him.

My parents are still amazing, even if they do favor Benson. They've been supportive of every decision we've ever made, even the imprudent ones. They like to let us learn from our mistakes, which has worked out in our favors so far. Benson and I both obtained our dream careers, and Bowie, who will be twenty-one the day after Christmas, is on track to graduate from college a year early.

I can't help but wonder what would have happened to Raelyn if she actually was my sister. Would she still have suffered the same fate, or would she have been more like us?

The chapel door creaks open. Everyone turns around in unison. A plump woman with blonde curls and thick-rimmed glasses comes into view. Beside her is a brown-haired, green-eyed, noticeably miserable little girl who I recognize as Evangeline.

"What's gonna happen to her?" Levi asks. He never learned how to whisper, so his voice echoes throughout the tiny chapel.

The woman—a social worker, I presume—approaches us, dragging Evangeline along behind her. She sits in the pew in back of us and says, "Hello, everyone."

My dad turns around and offers a half-smile. "Hi there."

"My name is Waverly Swift," she tells us. "I work for DCF. I've been assigned to keep an eye on Evangeline during this... heart-wrenching time."

Levi's question rings in my ears. Raelyn had no family, so what will happen to Evangeline? Is she going to become a ward of the state? I don't know much about the foster system or the technicalities of adopting a child, but I do know that Evangeline's odds of finding a home at six years old are slim. People don't want to take in school-aged children with opinions and voices and tragic backstories; they want babies that they can mold into their own.

My mom blinks back tears and looks at Evangeline. "Hi, sweetheart. How are you doing?"

She shrugs her petite shoulders. She's tall for her age, but she's very thin. "I'm fine, I guess."

Levi and I exchange glances. If my mom committed suicide five days ago, I would be anything but fine.

The doors open again. A cassock-wearing pastor ambles down the aisle, muttering an apology for being tardy. He stands on the altar and places his hand on the urn—all that's left of my childhood best friend.

When she was alive, Raelyn was stunning. With bright orange hair that fell down her back in soft curls, vibrant green eyes, and a freckled face, she turned heads everywhere we went. She didn't realize how beautiful she was. She thought her hair was too wild, her body too fat—she weighed less than I do—and her face too plain. She never saw what I saw, what everyone else who crossed her path saw.

It wouldn't have mattered how many people told her she was pretty. It wouldn't have changed anything. She never would have believed it, and she still would have done what she did.

"Shall we begin?" the pastor asks.

"Yes," my dad replies. He rises to his feet, walks to the podium, and faces the small audience. "Hi, everybody. Thank you all for coming today. As most of you know, my name is Geoffrey Beaufort. My wife, Calista, and I lived next door to Raelyn when she was just a girl. She was my daughter's best friend. She...." He pauses, his voice caught in his throat. I expect him to breakdown, but he remains calm as always. "She was an incredible person. The way her mind worked... well, there was nothing like it. One year for Christmas, we were going to buy an artificial tree, but Raelyn was adamant that we needed a real one. Of course, I like to procrastinate and wait until the last minute, so by the time I went to purchase said tree, all they had left were shrubs. My children were devastated, but Raelyn thought it was wonderful. She decorated that little shrub all by herself. After that, it became a tradition in our family that we forgo a full-sized Christmas tree and get a Christmas shrub instead."

"That's lovely," the pastor remarks.

My dad smiles. It's almost genuine. "Raelyn... she was so unique. She saw the beauty in everything."

Yeah, everything except herself.

My mom makes her way to the podium next. She introduces herself and says, "When Raelyn and Gemma were sixteen, Geoff and I took them to see the premiere of Twilight in theaters. We arrived an hour early, but the tickets were already sold out. I expected them to be so disappointed, but Raelyn simply suggested that we go out for ice cream instead. She was always so poised. The way she carried herself, especially after experiencing so much heartache in her short life... well, it was inspiring."

Sure, because killing yourself is inspiring.

It's Benson's turn. Standing beside the pastor, he is the embodiment of tranquility. His shoulders are rolled back, his eyes are dry, and his smile almost makes me believe that all will be okay. He really is good at everything.

"My name is Benson Beaufort," he begins. "Raelyn was my neighbor and my little sister's best friend. For me, she was always the girl next door. I think I harbored a crush on her until I left for college. She was just... so beautiful. It's strange to think that I'll never see her face again."

Benson steps down and rejoins us in the pew. I give his hand a squeeze, remembering how much he cared for Raelyn. His childhood crush was stronger than anyone else realized. Thinking back, I'm fairly confident he was in love with Raelyn.

"Bowie, sweetheart, would you like to say a few words?" Mom asks my younger brother.

Bowie folds his arms over his chest and sinks into the seat. "No thanks."

"What about you, Gemma?" My mom looks desperate.

"I... uh...." I should say something. Out of everyone here, minus Evangeline, I was closest to Raelyn. I knew her the best. There's one problem: "I don't know what to say, Mom. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, honey." Dad places his hand on my knee. "We don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I'll go up, Mr. Beaufort." Levi casts a kind smile and approaches the altar. He stands behind the podium, clears his throat, and says, "Hi, everybody. I'm Levi Barnes. Um, to be honest, I didn't know Raelyn Porter very well. I met her through Gemma. She was always nice to me, though. She had every reason to resent the world, but I never heard her say a bad thing about anyone." He stops, looks down at the floor, and then looks back up again. "I know many of you are probably confused and maybe even a little mad at her, but I don't think she was trying to hurt anyone. When you're in that much pain, it's hard to think about anything except your own sadness. We shouldn't let her final act define how we feel about her or taint any of the good memories."

Without thinking, I stand up. "Levi—"

"If you loved Raelyn while she was alive, it's okay to love her now," he cuts me off. "It's okay to be sad. It's okay to miss her. Like I said, I didn't know her very well, but I could tell she had a good heart. A sad heart, but a good heart."

Heat rises to my face as he sits back down next to me. I turn to him and whisper, "I'm assuming that little speech was meant for me?"

"It was meant for everyone," he replies.

"But mostly me. Is it because I called her selfish earlier? Are you still hung up on that?"

"I'm not hung up on anything, Gemma."

"Then why would you go up there and say that?" I demand, my voice rising above a whisper. "Of all days, why would you choose today to publicly humiliate me?"

"Today isn't about you, Gemma," Bowie says, catching me by surprise. "Today is about Raelyn, and the fact that we all failed her."

Before I can formulate a response, he rises to his feet and storms out of the chapel, slamming the door behind him.