Remembered it all. And now I stared down at my desk, cluttered with drawings of Sean. Stared down at his serious face. And pictured his head, his handsome head, lying on the pure, white snow. His dark eyes staring up the slope at us, staring so accusingly. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop my body from shivering. But the chills wouldn’t stop. They rolled down my body. I felt so cold, so cold and frightened. As if I were standing on the slope again. As if I were back in the snow, staring in horror at the thin silver line. Helpless. So helpless and horrified. My memory was back. So sharp and clear, I felt sick all over again. I wiped tears off my face with both hands. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. Now I let the sobs come. Sobs that tightened my face, tightened my throat until I gasped for breath. Sean. Poor Sean. And then I remembered even more. I had a fight with Sean. An ugly fight. I had a fight with Sean—and then he died. The night before, Sean and I had fought.
