Skylar sat, looking at the black-out window at people enjoying the sun. The coal black car that they were being transported in eventually came to a stop outside some huge, iron gates. The door opened and Skylar raised their parasol and stepped out into the sun. Their candy-floss-pink hair shone in the burning light as they waited for the gates to open. They were only six years old, yet this wasn't the first funeral that they'd been to. The first had been their Mum's, back when they were only three years old. Skylar had been told that she'd died of food poisoning. When they got inside the building where the funeral was being held, they saw that there weren't many people there. There was one boy who stood out though, standing across the room from them. He looked about eleven years old and was wearing and entirely white outfit, as was the one worn by the woman who seemed to be taking care of him. Skylar wondered why. They had been strictly told to wear all black clothes to the funeral as a sign of respect and that if they wore anything else then they couldn't come. They walked over to the boy. "how did you know my dad?" Skylar asked. "He was my dad too," the boy answered, "you must be my half sister. I've been told a bit aboout you. Apparetly you're going to come and live with me!" Before Skylar had a chance to react to this, a man walked over to the lecturn at the front of the room and started to speak into the microphone. "Hello," he said, "Everybody please take your seats." There was a sudden flurry as everyone rushed to find the seat with their name on it. "thank you," the man said, then he began to talk more professionally and it was obvious that he had rehearsed, "We are gathered here today, to remember the colleague, friend and father that was Patrick Chance. We are believed to have lost in when his ship sank as he was crossing the channel for a work trip. Unfortunately, none of his fellow crewmembers made it to france, nor back home. We are here now, to respect his memory and are to live on, to make him proud. We will now have a poem, performed by Dylan Harris, Patrick's first and only son." The boy who Skylar had been talking to earlier stepped up to the lecturn with a small peice of paper and began to read. "If roses grow in heaven, lord pick a bunch for me, place them in my fathers arms and tell them they're from me." Dylan then walked away awkwardly to his seat and sat down. Two hours later, Skylar stepped back into the car and was driven away to the place that they were to live in for another five years.