I don't remember much from that night. What I do remember is my mother's soft voice, one that nearly cracked over two small words: Alaira's dead.

***

Holland froze, unable to comprehend the news. He told me...he promised me one night with Cassie...he swore he'd stay home...

***

I sit in the church, only one in the sea of black as I say goodbye to the best friend I'd had since I was three. Nothing penetrates the fog in my mind except for unwelcome memories, reminders of better times.

***

Holland slumps in his chair in Carter's hospital room. He should be at Cassie's side, at Alaira's funeral, but he can't bring himself to move. He stares mindlessly at the heart monitor, the only sign that Carter is still alive.

Then he closes his eyes and does something that he hasn't done in a long time.

He prays.

<<<

"Watch where you're going!" I snapped to an ignorant freshman who nearly collided with me. Shaking my head, I forged on down the hall toward my physics class. It was my senior year, and I didn't feel like beginning the best year of my life with a broken leg.

Taking a seat near the back in Mrs. Spontak's classroom, I stole a quick glance at the clock, worried that Alaira would be late on the first day of school. That was all she needed, to gain a tardy from the woman who was reputedly the strictest teacher in the school.

Two seconds until the bell, Alaira raced into the room. I nudged her chair with my foot as she slid in beside me. Dropping a scrawled note on the floor between us, I glanced at her meaningfully. In our usual system, she bent as if to adjust the strap on the back of her sandal, and scooped up the note as she stood to take her seat.

I heard the slight rustle of paper as she read it underneath the desk. It said: What happened to you?

She quickly scratched out an answer, but that was when Mrs. Spontak decided to start class. Alaira muttered something unintelligible to me. Before I could make out what it was, Mrs. Spontak swept into the aisle between us and cleared her throat loudly. "Do you have something to share with us, girls?"

"No, ma'am," I quickly responded as Alaira shook her head, blonde curls swinging emphatically as she did so.

Mrs. Spontak fixed us with her famous Death Glare. "Then see that you pay attention when I'm speaking to you."

Alaira and I both nodded instead of replying verbally. She did say to pay attention, which equated to "Don't speak when I'm speaking." She looked on the verge of saying something else to us, but her attention was instead drawn to the boys on the other side of the room, the ones that were spitballing her desk.

The instant Mrs. Spontak's back was turned, Alaira slipped me the note. Underneath my line of messy handwriting, she had written one word in her flowing cursive: Carter.

I shot her a look. Seriously?

It's not like we did anything, her shrug replied. We were just talking.

Uh-huh, my skeptically arched eyebrow said.

Our silent conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Spontak's grating, old-lady voice, directing the class to look at the board up front, upon which she had projected the syllabus for this year.

<<<

It seems surreal that a mere four months ago, Alaira was alive. It seems even more surreal that I was scolding her for something as trivial as nearly being late for class because of a meeting with Carter, one that I'm sure was far from innocent.

I'll never see her handwriting again, never pass a note with her again.

I'll never see her bright smile again, never share another joke with her.

I can't believe she's gone.

Forever.

***

Holland remembers the last conversation he had with Carter, just two weeks ago.

"Hey, did you finally get the guts to ask Cassie out?"

Holland rolled his eyes. "Yes. I did. We have a date for Saturday night, dinner and a movie."

Carter nodded approvingly. "You're learning."

Shaking his head, Holland replied cautiously, "There's supposed to be a party that night, are you-"

"-Planning on going?" Carter finished. "That was the general idea. It's Kalen Deighan's Christmas celebration. They're complete howlers."

"Don't," Holland said firmly. "I'm not going to be around, and I don't want you driving home drunk."

Carter shrugged. "Dude, I've done it before. As long as I don't go completely under, it'll be alright." Then, at a firm glare from Holland, he quickly amended. "Okay, okay, fine. I won't drink and drive."

"Promise?" Holland asked.

Now it was Carter's turn to roll his eyes. "Who are you? My mother? Yes, I promise."

Recalling that conversation is like a knife in Holland's chest. He should have been there. He should have rescheduled his date with Cassie. It's his fault that Carter is lying in a coma.

It's his fault that Cassie lost her best friend.

Silently, he pleads with Carter. Wake up. Please.

<<<

Alaira laughed. "Of course I'm going to Kalen's party with Carter on Saturday."

"He's going to drink," I warned her. "At least one of you needs to stay sober. And if Carter's not responsible enough to be that person, then you need to be that person. Don't let him drive you home."

She waved her hand airily. "Don't worry, Cassie. We'll be fine. Just enjoy your little date with Holland; you do know how hard I worked to set that up, right?"

Still concerned, I returned to the previous topic. "Alaira. I need a promise from you. Don't let Carter drive you home."

She made a face, but she promised.

>>>

Holland Marks was running late. "Mother..."

"What? I just want to make sure that you're ready," she admonished. "I only have one son, and that's you. I'm allowed to worry about your first date."

"Mom," Holland groaned as she went to pat down his hair again. He ducked out of reach and started in the direction of the front door. "It's not a date, Cassie and I are just friends; it's nothing serious!"

She gave him a long-suffering smile. "Yes, that's what I told my parents too."

His back to his mother, Holland closed his eyes in frustration, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I'll be back by nine."

"Alright, honey," she called after him. He darted out of the house and into his little, white BMW convertible, shooting a quick glance at the time. It was a quarter after five - fifteen minutes past the time he had agreed to pick up Cassie.

She was going to kill him.

With this thought in mind, Holland sped off toward her house, mindful of the speed limit, yet driving as quickly as he possibly could.

>>>

My phone rang just as Holland and I were leaving the restaurant. I pulled it from my back pocket as I got in his car. The display read Mom.

I glanced at Holland apologetically as I answered it, a sinking feeling in my stomach. I thought I knew why she was calling; I desperately hoped that it wasn't true.

"Cassie?" Her voice shook. "Is Holland there?" I replied that yes, yes he was. She requested that I put her on speakerphone.

My hands trembled as I did so. It was then that I knew before the words even escaped her mouth. "Alaira's dead."

>>>

Holland couldn't believe his ears, but Cassie's mother continued, "She was in the car with Carter when it happened; apparently, he was drunk. They were both rushed to the hospital. Carter was the lucky one, he's still alive, though just barely." She must have continued speaking, but Holland didn't hear the rest. He was latched onto those four words: Apparently, he was drunk.

>>>

Six Months Later

June 5, 2017

I shuffled my notecards nervously as I waited to be called up to the podium by Principal Hailey Sheridan.

"And now, may I introduce to you the Class of 2017's valedictorian, Penelope Cassandra Walters!"

Rising to polite applause, I stepped forward, laying my notecards on the podium. Before speaking, I half-turned to my classmates, scanning the seats. I started in the back and moved forward, spotting Holland's slight nod to me somewhere in the middle, and - with a sharp pang in my chest - a slight dip where there should have been someone right around the Gs. Alaira's chair. And then the chair that had been added to the front row, because he hadn't been able to walk up the risers to his seat next to Holland. Carter MacDonald's place.

I cleared my throat, faced the audience of parents and siblings, and began my carefully written speech. "Here we are, the Class of 2017, on a day that we never thought would arrive. We thought about it, we planned for it, but we never thought it would come. And then, in the blink of an eye, it happened. We are no longer the innocent little kindergarteners, nor the impressionable middle-schoolers, or even the immature sophomores of two years ago. We are seniors at last." I paused briefly. "But one of our number will never get to experience this, the euphoria of finally graduating. Out of the one hundred and thirty seats you see before you, one is left vacant. My best friend's, Alaira Gray." Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for the most difficult part of my speech. "She left her house at seven p.m. on Saturday, December seventeenth, expecting to go to a Christmas party, enjoy herself, and return home with her parents none the wiser. Except...that's not how it went. Yes, she went to the party; yes, I'm sure she enjoyed herself. But the one thing she didn't do was return home. She got into a car driven by someone heavily under the influence, and they were driving home when the car overturned into a ditch." I swallowed hard. "And that was it. The paramedics say she passed away instantly. I never got a final goodbye; I can't even remember the last words we exchanged. The next time I saw her was at her funeral."

The auditorium was silent, each person hanging onto every word.

"I pray that none of you have to experience what I did that night. I received the news from my mother. Two words, that was all it took to change my life completely." Turning back to my classmates, I addressed them. "I pray that none of your parents ever have to experience what the Grays did that night. One call from the hospital, one frantic drive in the dead of winter, and their lives haven't been the same since. They did something no parent should have to do: they buried their only daughter." I paused to allow my words to sink in before facing the audience again.

"And just think. Only one decision could have been made differently, one choice could have changed everything. Whether that choice was for the driver to have told Alaira to get a different ride home, or for Alaira to have made the discretionary choice to find a different ride remains the unknown. We'll never know what she might have done."

I gave the slightest nod offstage to the tech crew, who carried out a table covered by a huge piece of posterboard, the top of which was covered by the words: "SADD: Take the pledge. Save a life."

"I put this together with a little help from my friends Holland Marks and Carter MacDonald. After...after some time had passed, I decided that I wanted to do something for Alaira, in her memory. So I got online, did a bit of research, and found out about SADD, Students Against Destructive Decisions. I wanted to start a chapter here, at Wakefield High. If you want to, Class of 2017 or even those of you in the audience -" - the lights came up on the parents and siblings beneath the stage - "-come up and sign the pledge. It's a promise that you will enjoy every moment sober, you will not ride with anyone who is drunk or has been using drugs, and you will encourage your friends to sign the pledge as well." Gazing earnestly into the eyes of each of my classmates, I continued, "This is my invitation. I've signed it; will you?"

There was silence for a few moments as I backed away from the podium. Holland stood first as we had planned, picking his way through the rows of students to join me beneath the raised platforms they were seated on. He walked over to the posterboard, signing his name underneath mine before returning to the chairs and helping Carter up.

They gingerly made their way over for Carter to sign. When Carter finished, he raised his eyes to meet mine, and a sad smile flitted its way across my lips in a semblance of forgiveness.

A million thoughts ran through my mind as the steady trickle of students, joined by their siblings from the audience, turned into a flow, each person ready to sign their names to the SADD pledge. And when it was finally over, I ceded the stage to Principal Sheridan to close the program.

~~~

Healing is slow. It begins with a small gesture, a promise of hope for the future. Hope brings light to the darkness. Referring to Carter as my friend was perhaps the first glimmer of light through the darkness of grief for me.

Our relationship will never be the same; how could it be, without Alaira?

But maybe, in a way, what happened to Alaira was a wake-up call. It was a call to action, action that we - Holland, Carter, and I - took together.

And things will be different, in a good way.

I just know they will be.