It's been 2 days since Phoenix died. 

Sky ended up leaving with her head held high, almost as if nothing happened. I stared at her, wondering how she wasn't crying. Phoenix and her seemed to be a duo. No... more than that. I knew him for less than a week and he already makes me tear up whenever I think of him.

Is there such thing as more than best friends, but less than lovers? If there was, that would be what I thought of them as. 

Before Sky could leave that day, I stopped her with a question. She looked at me as if I was going to say something stupid. 

"Can we at least bury him?"

She kept on walking forward, bidding me with a very hard goodbye. What wouldn't stop buzzing in my mind was what she was muttering about him, and the search for her reaction, and why. Everything she said and did in response to Phoenix makes no sense, except for when she confronted me with that cold look she gives. Shouldn't she have been yelling at me at the top of her lungs? Maybe even slap me a few times or shake me? 

Though I was scared of entering the forest again, I shuffle and tiptoe through it, looking for Phoenix. The walk made me uneasy in all the ways possible. Every time his kind smile flashes in my brain, his open attitude, and just the sweet boy he was. It only made the sorrow I held in my heart stronger. It grows when I see his chest pointing to the sky and his arms rest on the dusty ground and his right leg is twisted like an Ikea furniture piece put together by a blind person. The only thing that stays sane is his face. Even with the cut on his cheek and the bruises dappled on his forehead and nose, and even above his lips, his eyes are shut, like a baby sleeping. 

Vomit rises up to my throat. I inhale it away, taking a few more steps forward. Squatting to his level, I sweep his arm over my shoulder, trying to use my limp, skinny legs to lift him up. Luckily, there seemed to be a hole in the forest, almost big enough for him. We barely make it. He weighs much heavier than he looks. When I met him, he looked like an average skinny boy you would see every few blocks you walk by in town. I thought he would be as light as a feather, possibly a bit heavier than me. I stumble over my foot, collapsing onto the dusty ground, him following my footsteps and body slamming me. My muscles and bones shudder, as I groan. 

I try using my toothpick arms to push him off, but he doesn't budge. I try rolling over, and drag him closer to the hole. I lift him under his arms, like a cat, guiding him inside as softly as I can. Once he settles in, my breath shudders and my heart quivers. I'm burying him and fought through the queasiness eating my stomach and the shakiness in my legs in a rough battle. Seeing a dead body or someone suffering is enough to make me vomit. I could barely stand while carrying him. I managed to keep the vomit inside my mouth but not the burning in my eyes. They tightened, then snapped open, then tightened, then snapped open, Until I push more dust over his body, until it resembles like a pile of sand in the beach. 

Once I pat the final piece onto the pile, I kneel beside him and my fingers coil my bruised and bloody knees. My eyes are glued to the pile. Another sob rises up my throat, and I choke it out, croaking and coughing. I try to muffle myself, the last thing I want being someone to see me like this. But every memory of his bones being cracked, his smile while being crushed beneath the dirt and tree as blood leaked down his forehead, and the way he held me in his arms when we encountered the demon that day flash in my head violently, almost as if they were trying to eat me alive. My mouth sputters, and my hand raises trying to shield the bits of saliva escaping as tears leak from the corners of my eyes. 

I miss you, I miss you. You were the only friend I ever had. Can't you come back to hug me like you did last time? I just need company. I just need you back. 

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. 

I choke out sobs uncontrollably, my hands coating my mouth and below my nose. All I know is that my hope is gone. I feel like a monster. I feel like I killed him. If it were never for my curiosity, He'd be here. Sky wouldn't be ignoring me. I could have had a friend or two. Two possible real friends. Mom's plan of forcing me to talk to everyone at school never succeeded. Smiling and acting like the sunshine girl in a book didn't cut it either. 

I didn't even have to do anything for Phoenix to like me. I just waved at him. And he saved me from having to start a conversation. He showed me that someone like me has potential to blend into human society. Just by taking it slow and... being myself. I didn't have to put on my sunshine persona. Just me, Justice. 

I sob more, planting my hands into the grass and soil. At this point, I don't care if anyone hears me. I've been too tired of being someone I'm not while earning nothing, only betrayal, and losing more people. Grandma Mimsy was one of the few that loved me just for me, then died when I was four. Phoenix was one of those people too. Sky could have been one of those people. 

I want you back.

I weep, as more tears pour out. 

——

Once I mope out of the forest, I lead myself to the cabins, checking my schedule. I already got caught coming from the tetherball area when I was supposed to be making bannocks and banana boats in a circle of people by Jenna. She scolded me and guided me to the area, but once we arrived, crumbs of dough laid on tinfoil were being picked off and Tom splashed the fire with a bucket of water. Kids zipped to the mess hall the second the horn goes off. 

I begin to patter through the soft grass, then drive my eyes to my bare feet. Aw man. I run back to the canoeing area, searching for my shoes through the sand. I dig small holes like a dog, also looking for my socks. The sand is still as naked as before. 

I run back to my cabin, hoping to find the extra pair of shoes that mom put in my duffle bag. When I reach it, my tall converse stand by my door. I squint my eyes skeptically, twisting my neck sideways, studying the volleyball field and the tree right by my cabin for anyone, or anything. I keep my eyes at the tree and field, while I wrap the socks on my feet and push them into the shoes. My ankles fold as I my feet tap against the wooden steps. 

I jog to lunch until a thick piece of fabric twists and knots under my shoes. I squat, digging my fingers into the soft cotton. Dirt powders it, and I unfold it, revealing a hoodie. It lay in front of cabin #14, the first boys' cabin. I'm tempted to give it back, but the flashbacks of what happened in the forest with Phoenix and watching the blonde demon attack me, scrunching the fabric. 

These aren't the times to come up with ideas and experiment. Times like these are the worst, especially in a place like this. Has there ever been a time when you use your head and not your gut?

My lips tighten. I want to just throw it into the door, since there's not a single lost and found box anywhere. But I also want to slam it down on the floor and run back to the mess hall, even though I don't think I can eat. The last thing I need is a tentacle coming out of the cabin to squeeze the life out of me. 

I grimace, chucking the hoodie ball into the open door like a baseball. I pivot on my foot, turning to my side. Something floppy whacks the back of my head, causing my body to jolt and my eyes to widen. I turn, no one to be seen, only the same, dirt-powdered navy blue hoodie by my foot. My eyes squint in confusion and irritation. I ball it again, throwing it harder. It lands perfectly inside once I hear the faint thud. Then it lands powerfully on my chest. I catch it this time. 

I huff out an annoyed breath. If it's not yours, just say so. I throw it back again, but then it comes out. Again. And again, and again. I grumble, stomping up to the cabin, the hoodie in a wrinkled ball tight in my hand cage. I peer in slowly. It's dark, with only thin streams of sunlight pouring through the windows and their screens. The cabin is flooded with wrinkled white shirts, pairs of swimming trunks and even food. My mouth turns downwards, scrunching it. I scan the area for someone, but I'm only met with more pieces of clothing.

I scoot backwards, crashing into a wooden bed frame. When I look to my side, I notice a pair of hands holding an open book. I tilt my head, squinting my eyes. Tiptoeing closer. The sunlight the rest of the limbs, going from a pair of pale, slim arms, to flecks of golden brown hair resting by a neck, to a pair of light green eyes. The boy stares at me, his lips parted and his eyebrows raised, in a Can I help you? way. I exchange the look, staring at him, hugging the hoodie.