It was lightweight and breathed well, and it didn’t ride up his shoulders when he reached to shake everyone’s proffered hand. He’d bought it to wear to his graduation, but when this afternoon was over, he was going to give it to Goodwill, even if it was probably the most expensive outfit in the visitation room full of the academy’s finest down to the lunch lady. Summer was well liked. Had been well liked, he thought, immediately knowing it had been a mistake. It was still raw in him, and his hand clenched. But the cut-crystal glass with the weak red punch in it didn’t shatter. Not like his world. Not like everything that had given his life meaning. Fragile. For all their strength, they were so fragile. “Almost done, Silas,” Allen said from beside him, awkward in his flat-black suit. Peri was on his other side in a classy black dress cut high about her neck. Her hazel eyes were solemn with an eerie understanding he was afraid to ask her about, and she wobbled slightly, her heels too high.
