Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game(20)

While I half-heartedly listened to the conversations floating around me, I couldn’t help the anxious feeling in my gut. Most of the girls in Jake’s life fit into very black and white areas. But I couldn’t help worrying that with Maddie, there was some grey area. She’d seen parts of Jake that hardly anyone saw—that had to mean something. I just wondered if it meant she was her—the one who the ring belonged to. It was almost too farfetched to even wonder, let alone believe it could be real. But if the last twenty-four hours had proven anything to me, it was to expect the unexpected.

The night wore on, and the crowd started to thin. I was going to be at the funeral home for the long haul since I’d agreed to help “sit up” with Jake’s urn. It was Jake’s grandparents who had given us the idea of “sitting up” with Jake. They were practically mountain people who lived way out in the boondocks up in North Georgia. I’d gone to their farm once with Jake. The further we drove along the backwoods roads, the more uncomfortable I got. I was on edge the entire weekend straining to hear banjo chords and waiting for some toothless hillbillies to come ass rape me like in that movie Deliverance.

Anyway, Jake’s grandparents said there was a tradition back in the day where family and friends sat up all night when somebody died. I guess it made more sense when there weren’t funeral homes, and you would have felt kinda funny turning off the lights and leaving a dead body in the living room.

Jake’s brothers were all for “sitting up”, so the rest of us decided it sounded like a good idea and a good send off.

It was around eleven when Jake’s parents gathered up their things to head home. Jason turned to me. “Hey man, Jonathan and I are gonna walk Mom and Dad out, but we’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” I said.

Jake’s parents had barely gotten out the front door when the shit hit the fan. It was at that moment that Avery and Presley decided the icy stares and pissed body language wasn’t cutting it anymore. They were finally going to duke it out over who was going to be Jake’s ‘unofficial widow”’.

Surprisingly, Avery made the first move. “I just don’t know what you’re doing staying here, Presley, unless it’s to service Jason and Jonathan during the night or some of the other guys here!”

Presley smirked at Avery. “At least I’m in touch with my sexuality, and I could give Jake what he needed.”

Avery jerked her chin up. “Yeah, Jake, half the school, and even some of the faculty!” she spat.

“You bitch! You know that rumor about me and Senor Martinez is a lie!”

“Then why did he transfer schools?”

“Because that skanky ho Amanda Montrose gave him a b**w j*b on Cinco De Mayo last year.”

A shriek went up in the middle of the crowd. Amanda grabbed up her purse and stalked past Avery and Presley in a huff.

“Whatever,” Avery grumbled.

Presley stepped forward to stand toe to toe with Avery. “Let’s get this straight once and for all. I loved Jake, and he loved me. He only dated you for appearances.”

“No, Jake loved me.”

“Oh yeah, then why didn’t he go to prom with you?”

“Because I was already going with Caleb Evans.”

“No, it’s because Jake didn’t ask you. He asked me!”

“Yeah, so he’d be guaranteed to be screwed.”

Their voices were getting louder. Some of the others looked at me, urging me to be referee for the fight. I sighed. “Avery, Presley, listen. Fighting like this isn’t gonna solve shit. You’re both tired and overemotional right now. The whole school knows that Jake cared for both of you, so it’s really useless to argue about it,” I said, trying to step between them.

Presley knocked me out of the way right before Avery slapped her. Everyone, including Presley, stood motionless, in shock. It seemed Avery’s grief had completely dethawed her usual Ice Princess demeanor.

Suddenly, Presley grabbed Jake’s urn and pressed it against her ample cle**age. “He was mine!”

“No, he was mine!” Avery countered, grasping at the urn. The two pushed and shoved back and forth. Suddenly, the urn went flying through the air.

It smashed against carpet. “Jesus Christ!” I yelled.

Jake, or what was left of Jake, lay scattered along the carpet.

Mr. Whitfield rushed into the room. “What in the hell is going on in here?” he demanded.

Everyone refused to answer him. His eyes widened in horror. “My God, don’t you kids have any respect for the dead?” he questioned. None of us said anything. “All right, everybody out! Now!” he growled.

Presley and Avery hung their heads in shame as they scurried from the room. I could imagine this was going to be quite the gossip tomorrow at the funeral. Of course, only Jake could manage not only to blow himself up, but also have a catfight over his remains.

Jonathan and Jason met me at the door. “Dude, what the hell happened?” Jason questioned.

“A bitchfight,” I mumbled.

“Huh?” Jonathan asked.

“Presley and Avery were fighting over Jake, and somehow his urn was—broken.”

They both glanced past me to where their brother’s ashes colored the floor. “Damn,” Jonathan murmured his eyes widening in shock.