Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

36| Goodbye

The funeral is set for Friday. I don't speak to anyone in the days leading up to it, nor train or go to school. I hole up in my bedroom, curled on my side in a fetal position, and cry until it hurts.

It was a pulmonary Embolism. Or at least, that's what I think Hayden said. Coach was being treated for blood clots, but one found its way into his lung. By the time Hayden found him, it was already too late.

The night I got the call, I'd buried my face in Nico's chest and cried until his skin was soaked. He'd cradled me to his chest, holding me up as my legs gave out, then walked us back until we fell against the bed, where he held me all night while I cried.

I was gone by the time he woke up. Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn't bear looking him in the eye after that, so I grabbed my things, pulled on my clothes, and drove home through a hazy blur of tears, only to face my furious mother, who'd been unable to reach me all night. It didn't matter. She took one look at me and hugged me. It's strange how tragedy does that. One minute, you're fighting; the next, you're holding them so hard that you can't comprehend letting go.

When Friday comes, Dad and Cody spend the morning putting their suits on. I slowly leave my bed and walk over to my closet, taking out the black dress Mom picked out the night before. It's simple, elegant, and appropriate for a funeral. I put it on and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are puffy from crying, and my hair is a mess. I grab a brush and try to smooth it out as much as possible.

Daisy comes over just before we leave. She hugs me for a long time, like pieces of me are broken, and she's trying to keep them together. I hug her back, knowing that if I speak right now, I'll cry, and I don't want to cry.

It hurts.

She pulls away, wiping a fallen tear from her cheek before squeezing my hand. I nod as if to thank her, and together, we cross the drive to the car.

The drive to the church is silent. My parents had never met Coach, but they insisted on attending his funeral when they'd heard about his passing. If they had met him, they'd have loved him too.

I keep my eyes fixed on the window. We pass a row of huge mansions with pristine lawns and state-of-the-art fountains. This part of LA has always felt huge, but it's not. It's a tiny slice of a life most people never experience, and it took seeing Coach try his hardest every day to see it.

My eyes are still on the window when Cody reaches out and takes my hand. He squeezes it tight, his little fingers warm and comforting in the silence. I smile slightly, squeezing him back, preparing myself to get through this.

It's not long before Dad kills the engine. The church's parking lot is packed, and I recognize some kids from the gym at the entrance with their parents. Wiley hovers behind a tall, lithe woman, her dark hair slicked back into a bun. Auden stands a few feet away, shifting from one foot to the other, while a man who looks just like him talks to the pastor.

Inside the church, people begin to fill up the foyer. It has light wooden floors and stained-glass windows that let the sunlight trickle in. For a second, the sunlight hitting Jesus makes it look like he's glowing.

My legs tremble, and I follow the stream of funeral-goers into the sanctuary, where I spot Hayden beside the casket. He's wearing a suit, the first I've ever seen him in, and he's reading from a piece of paper.

He looks strong on the surface, but his face has an unusual hollowness, and his eyes are shadowed with circles. Given how close his dad was to Coach, he knew Coach better than anyone. Today must be killing him.

Maddie stands beside him, wearing a black lace dress. Her hand is in his, intertwined so tightly that it's hard to tell where his fingers end and hers begin.