When the Headlights Came

Chapter One

There used to be three of us.

Lizzie James, the smart one who had wanted to be a doctor since the tender age of five, when she'd ended up in hospital with a broken arm. It was a good fit for her though. She always cared for the people around her, which was why everyone liked her so much. I envied her intelligence, and her looks. She had silky, black hair and tanned skin, and she didn't need to plaster her face in make-up. I'd known Lizzie longer than anyone else.

There was me, Amber Worth. I wasn't super intelligent, my grades were average, and I wasn't the prettiest girl in the world. My hair was short and brown, I hated my freckles, and I was usually covered in numerous cuts and bruises. I was a tomboy and I loved climbing trees and playing football with the lads. People liked me as well though, because like Lizzie, I cared for my friends. I stood up for people. I was probably the loudest and most confident of our little trio.

Then there was the older one of our group, the mother, as we called her. Becky Forber. She was pretty as well, and very slim with a face like a china doll. Her brown hair was a slightly lighter shade than mine, and she'd had many compliments on her sparkling, blue eyes. Becky wanted to be a writer. She dreamed of getting one of her many books published one day. I think she'd written about five in total. She used to be known as the quiet, shy girl.

Now, she was known as the dead girl.

I often wondered what happened after death. Did Heaven and Hell exist? Was there an afterlife? I liked to think that a total stranger in the street or a bird in the sky could have been Becky in a new life, or even my great Aunt Mary. I mean, it could be possible, right?

I stayed with that thought, as I listened to the sound of angelic voices around me. The glowing sun hit the stained-glass window above me and for a second, I felt as if a spotlight had hit me. I was by no means religious but being at Church on a Sunday morning was a comfort and somehow made me feel a lot closer to Becky. I didn't blame God for what had happened that day because deep down, I knew it was my fault.

"You sing beautifully."

The stranger's voice was soft and gentle, and belonged to the elderly lady next to me. She was quite small and thin with a mop of curly, grey hair, and a kind smile. Her dress was white with flowers on and she leant on her walking stick to steady herself.

"Thanks," I whispered and returned the smile.

The singing carried on but as I turned my attention back to my song sheet, she leaned in towards me and spoke again. She smelt of mints and lavender perfume.

"Do you sing professionally?"

I used to hate singing, until I joined the choir at school. In fact, it was Becky's idea to join in the first place. Now she was gone, and Lizzie had quit singing for good. I was the only left from our trio. Don't get me wrong, I got on with everyone else in the choir. The teacher was wacky and fun, and I loved to sing, but it certainly wasn't the same without my best friends.

"You should look into it," She told me, when the service had finished. "Singing professionally, I mean. You really do have a lovely voice. The name is Sunny Goodheart by the way."

Her name sounded like something out of a fairytale.

"Amber Worth," I introduced myself quietly.

She began to pack up incredibly slowly. I was desperate to leave but it seemed polite to stay and wait for her.

"So, what have you asked Santa for Christmas this year, young Amber?" She asked.

I felt myself blush a bright shade of red. I was fourteen.