The VC and Her BFFL

By Spencer Koelle

“Am I dead yet?” Lilly Moore wheezed.

“Listen, drama queen,” Anabel Jose North said, “We run twice this long every practice.” Lilly lacked breath to mention Jose’s once-a-week lacrosse practice took half the time of weekend cheerleading rehearsals.

Lilly skirted a hemlock root and pruned a maple branch with her face. “Need a breather?” Jose called over her shoulder. She nodded and crashed into a park bench.

The smell of crab-apples recalled another missed lunch. Lilly drained her iron-enriched V8 and scarfed half a Snickers energy bar. She panted and wiped her forehead.

Lilly lurched into a jog. “Meet me at my place! You could use the exercise,” Jose teased, vanishing between the trees.

“I’m out of shape?” she whimpered. Failure was unthinkable. She’d cancel her date with Anthony and do extra reps before dawn. Trees blurred and wind blew.

Red leaves matched the fire in her legs and lungs. She’d be perfect by Monday. Atop the pyramid she’d be queen of the earth. The post-game celebration at Herbert’s Diner would be heaven.

Her gut gurgled. Lilly inhaled the remaining chocolate midstride. The abstract statue hit her head-first. She collapsed, bleeding and choking.

—

Aside from the white-nosed bat flying three times over the coffin, the funeral was uneventful. Lilly’s strawberry-streaked pigtails had been bleached and undone. The white gown concealed her gut and embellished her chest. Only her lopsided, attention-loving grin looked natural.

Catherine Moore petted her six remaining daughters as if keeping count. Classmates and teachers huddled together. Anthony laid a blue rose and a carry-out box at her grave.

Afterwards, Mickey Harker, the county’s only male cheerleader, approached Jose. After exchanging consolations, he asked “Didn’t she want to be buried with her pom poms?”

Jose tossed a blood-stained tissue on the freshly-turned earth. “You didn’t even know her, asshole.” She said nothing else that day.

—

Lilly awoke cold and hungry, as usual. She sprung out of her velvet-lined bed in full pink and black uniform, ready for morning reps.

The moonlit poster board display towered overhead. Magic-marker signatures crowded beneath an unflattering picture of her. “Best Friends Forever – Jose,” Lilly read. She bolted between the crowded headstones, straight for the memorial park.

Lilly avoided the sculpture. The cause of her resurrection could wait. Everything would be alright when she reached her friend. She wasn’t exhausted for once. Her feet barely touched the ground. Even Jose couldn’t criticize this pace.

Lilly emerged in front of the North residence. The windows glowed. She felt colder and hungrier. She hovered outside Jose’s second-floor bedroom and peeked through the blinds.

Jose lay beneath a poster for a band she openly despised. She clutched an ice pack in her right hand and the TV remote in her left.

“Jose?” Lilly called twice, but the news drowned her out. She rang the doorbell instead.

“Come in!” Mrs. North groaned. Lilly flew back to the window and swam through cold glass. She hadn’t prepared for Jose’s face: green eyes wide, caked blood beneath her nose, jaw slack.

“This isn’t happening,” Jose whispered.

“It is! I’m okay!” Lilly squealed.

“I’m dreaming,” Jose said. Her face remained frozen.

“You’re not dreaming,” Lilly countered. She hugged her tight, reassuring herself with Jose’s warm body and delightful smell. “I’m really back.”

Jose stiffened under her arms. “This is a nightmare,” she pleaded.

Lilly felt very cold and hungry. “Oh, Jose, I’m sorry. You must have been through hell these last nights, but everything’s okay now.” She pinched Jose. “See? It’s real.”

“I’m not dreaming?” she asked, trembling. She repeated the words and pushed Lilly away. Lilly reached up to wipe away some blood and Jose smacked her hand.

“Get away from me!” Jose said, heart thundering, face flushed, and nose gushing. Lilly withdrew.

“I”m your best friend,” Lilly whimpered. She was used to annoyance, but she’d never seen Jose so pissed before.

“You’re not Lilly!” Jose said. “You’re dead! She’s dead!” Her bloodshot eyes filled with tears, and her nose streamed hot blood. She reached under her bed.

“Who else would I be?” Lilly shrieked. Why did Jose always have to be so pig-headed? Jose bared her teeth and swung the lacrosse stick.

Something snapped. She felt no pain as the impact shuddered through her fractured skull. Her former best friend swung again, but Lilly pinned her against the poster.

In between the hurt and the confusion, something made sense. She lowered Jose and bit. Blood and adrenaline tasted more satisfying than she could imagine. She had all night to sip and savor.

Lilly burped and released the shivering body. “Drama queen.”

—

Spencer Koelle is a creative writing major and women’s studies minor at Susquehanna University. His other publications can be found at his website.