Forgetting Addy

Chapter 1

The world never melted away, nor did it stop. It kept turning, even when Addy Clay smiled in my general direction. The world even kept turning when she stopped me to ask for the homework assignment. The world rotated on and on, even when her body was found dead in a ditch.

I got the news from a Facebook post. There was a chain going around about a young girl found dead, and a day later when Addy wasn’t at school, I just thought she might have had a doctor’s appointment. The next night when I checked Facebook, pictures were plastered of her crimson hair and freckles all over the screen. This was somewhat normal for Addy; she was the most charismatic girl and knew everyone from the cousin of a movie star to little ole me. I stared at the post for a while, then I realized the words terribly edited into the white border: Rest In Peace. I was glad no one was home to hear my scream. 

Before

I guess you could say the planets brought us together. I was the first one to notice her. Every other guy looked away from her pre-pubescent body, but I was always fond of her. She used to be the girl that would shy away from group projects, which fortunately landed us together. 

“Carson, why don’t you and Addy group up together?” The teacher would say, and we would politely smile at each other.

We had to choose a planet and talk about its chance of life and climate conditions. We both agreed to work on Jupiter and that her mom would take her to my house after school. 

The rest of the day went by way too slowly. I remember walking home and calling my mom about the project. She was a little bit more excited than me. My mom knew that I’d had a crush on Addy since third grade when I cried to her because I drew someone else's name for Valentine trade rather than hers. Now in eighth grade and a little better grasp of how the world works, I felt like I had a chance.

I always knew how beautiful Addy would become. I could tell that her smile would create dimples and that her skin would start to glow. She always had short brown hair before she grew it out and dyed it. I had guessed she would stay short; that was the only thing I was wrong about.

At four, her mother brought her over. My mom greeted them at the door while I put on another coat of deodorant in hopes the sweat would stop running like a marathon for cancer patients.  Then I went downstairs and Mrs. Clay was talking to my mom about the neighborhood watch or something, but I just stared at Addy. She didn’t notice me looking at her, but that’s how it always was and always would be.

After

The memorial was big for our small town. It took place at a funeral home without a casket because of further investigation into the mysterious case of Addy, but we treated it as if it were all said and done. Media from across the nation hovered to cover the story like a model agency to bones with legs. Addy would be the one to put our town on the map. When the church choir began, I almost laughed; she always hated going to church. 

There are small things that make up a person: their belief in a somewhere-other-than-here and the music they want played at their memorial. Addy would’ve preferred a Bright Eyes song rather than a choir singing. I get that the words in a hymn would comfort Mr. and Mrs. Clay rather than a strumming of a soft guitar and positive words. They wanted to have the reassurance that she was in heaven and God accepted her with open arms. I’m sure that if there is a God, all His angels waited for her at the gates. 

There was not a dry eye in the funeral home, and something about the fact bothered me. I’m sure everyone was grieving — I understood that. I understood their friend was gone, but they would never understand her. These people did not know my Addy, the one I would see crying in her car after school. They didn’t know that there was more to her music selection than just top forty countdowns on the radio. They did not see into her brain, the way she allowed me to do. I was grateful for the moments I had spent with her because each time it told me something more about her.  Her whole life was a secret from everyone else. She wasn’t allowed to be herself; she was told to hold her chin high and her pompoms higher.