Only the Good Die Young

Chapter One

Of course, Simon isn't sitting in a coffin; no one wants to see his wounds. His mother had him cremated and his ashes currently sit in a jar in a container in which they're burying. We were encouraged to bring memorabilia. I gave him my pocket knife.

I felt my butt return to Eric's knee as he dug in his pocket for his keys. Once he found them, he unlocked his car and set me in the passenger's seat. Eric shut my door and walked around to the driver's side.

In the center compartment sat a box of Kleenex, thankfully. I pulled a plastic bag out of my purse, kept there for emergencies, and dropped the soaked paper towel in there for a fresh tissue.

"You can drive, you know," I told Eric, not wanting to use all of his Kleenex. That would be rude. He frowned at me, yet still put the key in and turned it.

My house is only two minutes away from the funeral home by car. Walking would've taken me only five minutes, but Eric isn't keen on leaving people to fend for themselves after his mistakes. He truly is a good guy, even though people may think he's a jerk just because he's so athletic.

It's stereotypes that don't exist here. All nerds are acne clad losers? I've been called pretty. Unintelligent boys in leather jackets and jeans prone to rob jewelry stores? I think not. No one else agrees with me. Not even Michelle.

A thought popped into my head. "Eric, why'd you come? Your parents didn't force you to."

"I don't think Simon was a super bad dude. He deserved some respect. What about you?"

"I cared about him," I replied, looking down. "What if it wasn't his fault?"

"You mean breaking into Michael's store?" Michael is the owner of the jewelry store. If you're getting engaged, you go there. Christmas present for mom, Easter earrings for your daughters, a new watch for Father's Day, anything. It's all at Michael's store.

"Yeah, I mean Michael's store."

"There is that chance. However, he was found at the scene, walking out of the broken door. Isn't it kind of a closed case?" Eric pointed out. Everyone knows every detail of the police officer's account. Officer Dennis Adams was responsible for the shooting.

"Stop, I need to get the mail," I said, causing Eric to pull up next to the mailbox. I grabbed the letters that are usually bills for my parents. They must've gotten the newspaper before they went to work. As I sifted through the letters, I found a bulk one addressed to me.

"Your parents are working today, right? Let me stay until the bleeding stops," Eric said, opening my door. I was still staring at the envelope when he patted my leg to get my attention.

"Yeah, okay," I replied, slowly climbing out and walking to the front door. Eric opened it and held it for me as I continued to look at the envelope.

"Excuse me, head back," he commanded, snatching the mail from me and carrying it to the kitchen.

"Eric, give me my letter!" I complained, chasing him.

"I'll read it to you. Oh, wait..." I watched out of the corner of my eye as Eric pulled a magazine out of the envelope. "There wasn't even a stamp. Someone came here and put it in your mailbox."

"What magazine is it?" I don't have any subscriptions, since the library receives a few kinds each month, so there's always some there.

"Science Monthly. More nerdy stuff?"

I shook my head. That isn't the newest edition, either. I read this month's at the library yesterday. "When is it from?"

Eric turned it and looked at the spine. "It's awfully worn. Which makes sense since it's from 1994."