The Serpent King(61)

Lydia’s face took on a grim cast. “He was right. I would have.”

“We should say something to her in case it is Amelia. Travis was pretty crazy about her.”

They approached her awkwardly.

“Are you Amelia?” Lydia asked.

Amelia looked surprised to be recognized. “Yeah…are you guys Lydia and Dill?”

“Yes,” Lydia said. “Nice to meet you. We heard good things. How did you know to come?”

“The police got in touch with me. I was one of the last people he talked to before he died.” Amelia wiped her eyes. “The funny thing is that I heard so much about you guys from Travis. And now I’m meeting you before meeting him.” She paused. “I guess it’s not really very funny. But you know what I mean.”

“We do,” Lydia said.

“We were supposed to meet up and read Deathstorm together. We were also going to go to the Renaissance festival. I guess we had a lot of plans.”

“Travis and I were going to get a place together and be roommates after we graduated,” Dill said.

“I was critiquing Travis’s first story,” Lydia said.

“You were the one who made it so that Travis could meet G. M. Pennington. He said that was the best night of his life. Will you send me that story Travis was working on?” Amelia asked.

“Of course.”

They were silent for a moment as they thought about all that died with Travis.

Dr. and Mrs. Blankenship, dressed in black, walked up. Dr. Blankenship, looking uncharacteristically grim, kissed Lydia on the cheek and shook Dill’s hand. Dill and Lydia introduced her parents to Amelia. Dr. Blankenship sighed and looked at his watch. “Well, I think the hour is upon us. Shall we?”

They went inside. The funeral home smelled of old hardwood, lemon furniture polish, and white lilies and gardenias. Hippie Joe was there. He and Travis weren’t close, but he went to all students’ funerals. A couple of Travis’s shop teachers came. A few people Dill said he recognized from church. Then, to Lydia’s considerable annoyance, there was a pack of classmates from Forrestville High, none of whom had ever known or cared about Travis particularly when he was alive, but in death saw a grand opportunity for drama and pathos.

Travis’s father sat ashen-faced and stoic at the front of the room. He looked behind him, saw Lydia and Dill, and turned immediately back forward. He knows we know.

Travis’s mother came up to Lydia, Dill, and Amelia. Lydia didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look more ravaged over Travis’s death than her and Dill, but Travis’s mom did.

“Thank y’all so much for coming.” Her voice cracked. “You were good friends to my Travis and he’d have wanted you here.”

“We loved him,” Dill said, tearful.

“Yes, we did,” Lydia said.

“My mom sends her apologies that she couldn’t come. She couldn’t get off work,” Dill said.

At the front of the room sat a plain pine casket. Inside lay what appeared to be a wax sculpture of Travis in a cheap blue suit—plastic and unreal somehow. They approached with trepidation.

“I love you, Travis,” Dill whispered, tears pattering on Travis’s lapel.

“Dill,” Lydia said, tears streaming down her face. “Cover me. Hug me.”

As Dill embraced her, Lydia pretended she was holding onto the casket for support. Then she reached in and tucked a tiny package into Travis’s suit jacket, where it made a slight bulge.

Amelia followed behind them, weeping. She spent a long time looking at Travis’s face.

Before taking their seats, a particularly elaborate and beautiful flower arrangement caught Lydia’s eye. She read the card, which was from Gary M. Kozlowski:

Rest, O Knight, proud in victory, proud in death. Let your name evermore be a light to those who loved you. Let white flowers grow upon this place that you rest. Yours was a life well lived, and now you dine in the halls of the Elders at their eternal feast.





Dill and Lydia stood at Travis’s grave gazing at the fresh brown dirt covering it, long after everyone else had gone home. The sky was incongruously, callously blue.

“He’s got his signed page from G. M. Pennington and dragon necklace,” Lydia said, not looking up.

“That’s what you put in there with him? How did you get them?”

“I went to his mom. They released his personal stuff to her, and his signed copy of Bloodfall was with it. I cut the signed page out of the book and got his dragon necklace. The staff wouldn’t have fit, or I would have put that in there too. But I’ve got it. I’m going to give it to you later to hold on to. I don’t deserve to keep it because I gave him so much grief about it.”

“We’ll figure out the right thing to do with it. I wonder how Gary knew to send that card and flowers.”

“I called his agent. I told her what happened and I told her to convey to Mr. Kozlowski how much what he did meant to Travis. That it was probably the best thing that ever happened in his life before he died.”

“I wonder if that would have been Travis someday. A rich and famous writer, taking the time to meet with kids who were like him.”

“If Trav ever became rich and famous, there’s no question he would have. He gave me one of his stories to read on the day he died.”