Mitzi gripped her husband’s arm while Headmaster Wyler approached to console them.
“You’re doing morning sessions now?” a voice called.
Devon whirled around to see Grant running to catch up with her. His blond hair was wet and slicked back. For once, he wasn’t wearing his signature white hat. But he still looked sporty and casual: a gray suit and white shirt with no tie. For some reason the lack of tie bugged Devon, like it was rude of him not to dress more formally.
“Morning sessions?” she asked.
“You and Matt seemed awfully … intimate.” He said the last word with a bite to it.
Devon stopped walking. She wanted to be mad. But she felt the paper in her pocket, poking against her thigh and knew she wasn’t riding high on morality at the moment either. She sighed, changing her tone. “Today’s pretty difficult for everyone. I was just helping, okay?”
Grant reached out and took her hands in his. “Sorry. I saw you two holding hands.” He pulled her into his chest for a long hug. He swayed a little from side to side. Devon closed her eyes, letting herself be lulled into him. “Let’s just get through this,” he whispered with his cheek pressed to her head. Then he leaned back and faced her. His blue eyes caught the sunlight. “I want to see you later. Think we both need a little distraction? What do you say?”
Devon took his hand and turned toward the organ music emanating from the chapel. “Like you said, let’s just get through this first.”
Inside the chapel doors, Eric Hutchins was the first to greet the mourners. This was a Keaton legend, right in front of her. So many rumors and stories. The best: Headmaster Wyler had lost a bet to Eric, and had to run a lap around campus in nothing but his running shoes and underwear. But here now, Eric was just someone who’d lost his brother. He was tall like Hutch, with long brown hair that was gelled back and tucked behind his ears. His eyes had the puffy, swollen look of someone who has been crying. Still, he was classically good-looking, like Hutch would have been. Devon noticed his cheek twitching at the top of his jaw, clenching like Hutch’s used to. What could he possibly be feeling right now? She resisted the urge to hug him.
Grant gave Eric a one-armed hug. “I’m so sorry, bro,” he murmured.
“Thanks, man. Hey listen, will you be a pallbearer? My knee’s still busted and can’t take the weight.” He plucked the white rose from his lapel and tucked it into Grant’s. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Anything you need. Oh, this is Devon.” Grant said.
Devon stepped forward and shook hands with Eric. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry. Hutch, I mean, Jason, was.…” She stammered looking for the right word.
“Don’t worry. I know. Hutch was Hutch.” Eric gave Devon a reassuring pat on her shoulder and turned to the next guest in the receiving line.
Devon snuck a glance over her shoulder, then another. It was Maya, looking stunning in a black cocktail dress.
“I wasn’t sure.…” Eric started.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Maya cut in before Eric could finish. She continued inside without shaking Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins’ hands. Eric stared at Maya as she slid into a pew. Devon tried to stop staring, herself, but couldn’t. Was Eric really checking Maya out? At his brother’s funeral?
The Keaton chapel was small, built for no more than two hundred people, packed tightly into narrow wooden pews—and far beyond full capacity today. The entire wall at the front was made up of windows facing the North, so the sun was always bright but never direct. Normally, the effect was uplifting and almost otherworldly—but with the glossy closed coffin up front near the altar, Devon found herself wanting to turn away. The coffin was strewn with white roses and draped with the green Keaton flag. Next to it sat an easel with a blown-up picture of Hutch in a boat: smiling, tan, happy.
Devon forced back tears. She clenched her jaw. Who decided to put the Keaton flag on his coffin? It almost made sense. The venue usually reserved for chorus recitals, poetry readings, and holiday services was now a funeral home. But it would have bugged Hutch. He refused to wear clothes with visible labels. The flag was like an overbearing corporate sponsor: Hutch’s Funeral, brought to you by The Keaton School! Keeping track of your kids, dead or alive!