A vivid image flashed through Ariana’s mind. It had been a week since Brigit had died, and Ariana still couldn’t believe she was gone.
She’d arrived at Atherton-Pryce Hall just over a month ago, and she hadn’t imagined that she’d become true friends with anyone as fast as she had with Brigit Rhygsted-or that it could hurt so badly to lose her. Her heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself over and over again, radiating misery and pain throughout her body. The black-clad crowd of students, faculty, and parents huddled even closer together against the cold-and their own sadness.Īriana Osgood held a white candle in front of her, the flame blurring before her tired, tear-stung eyes.
Hundreds of candles adorned the marble stairs of the Atherton-Pryce Hall chapel, flickering in the cool autumn breeze. “To know Brigit was to love Brigit,” Lexa Greene said, lifting her chin.
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