Losing Logan

Chapter 1

Dedication:

For everyone who was ever mean to me in High School.

Suck it.

So what if Logan was dead? I mean, it's not like

he owed me money or anything. I pause at the top

of the stairs, letting my mom move around me

and walk inside. To my left a group of girls are holding

each other and ugly crying. I try to assure myself that

the display is genuine and has nothing to do with the

swarm of reporters behind me, their cameras clicking

like insects.

"I bet not one of those girls even knew Logan," I

grumble.

"Firstly, everyone knew Logan. And secondly, quit

being such a judgy-Mc judge-sickle."

To my right, Carlos holds out his hand, which I

take and allow him to lead me inside and down the hall.

Leaning over he whispers in my ear.

"I can't believe you wore that."

I look down at my dark jeans, carefully tucked

into tall brown boots. My steel grey scarf hangs over my

light tan sweater. I'd even taken the time to throw my

long brown hair into a messy bun.

"We can't all afford to look like movie stars," I

mumble back.

Carlos, with his rich brown skin and dark hair

looks like he should be on a billboard somewhere, and

the dark fitted suit he's wearing only enhances the effect.

He's gorgeous. One of those genetically gifted boys who

could bat his eyelashes and have any girl he wanted. You

know, if he actually wanted girls. He weaves our arms

together and pulls me up to a tall pedestal with an open

book laying on it. A few people in front of us are signing

in like they are registering for a giveaway at the mall. I

shift uncomfortably.

"Relax, Zoe. It isn't a funeral. Just a viewing."

I shake my head, "That's even worse." I lower my

voice so no one else can hear, "Who would want to look

at a dead body? I mean, it's just kinda twisted, right?"

He pats my hand. "Closure, darling. It's a chance

to say goodbye."

"I said goodbye to Logan a long time ago," I say

while looking ahead at the room beyond the pedestal.

Rows of neatly assembled chairs are nearly filled with

people from our quiet little town. Some are talking, most

crying. A few are just texting or playing on their phones.

I feel my breathing pick up as a warmth spreads under