Ariana Grayson looked beautiful in a black dress that hit just below the knee. The short cap sleeves attached to a tight bodice and thin black belt that was looped around her tiny waist. The full skirt of the dress was made for twirling. It had multiple layers that begged to be taken for a spin or two. She had only worn this dress once before - last year to her cousin's wedding that her mom told her was "a black tie affair". She figured that was her mom's way of saying she'd have to wear a formal dress. 

Today Ariana wore the dress for the second - and last - time. She wore the dress to her own funeral. 

She hates that dress. I thought as soon as I saw her. 

I took a seat on a hard wooden bench two rows behind Ariana's parents. They were both attempting to get one of the twins to sit still, and so far, neither was successful. My shoes were tight and causing blisters on the back of my ankles. I slipped them off and let them land quietly on the carpeted floor, and then kicked them under the pew in front of me. So long, suckers. The room smelled of roses and a mix of multiple perfumes that made me want to gag. 

People entered the room in small groups dressed in all black. They looked like shadows of invisible people. It was quiet except for whispered condolences that I could still hear clearly, even from all the way up towards the front. I was blessed with incredibly good hearing, which comes in handy, well, never. It's a total hindrance and not at all fun at parties. 

So young. How terrible!

Look at her parents - oh! So sad!

I can't even imagine what they're going through. I wouldn't be able to go on! 

I sat stiffly and stared straight ahead.

Shut up! I wanted to scream. Minutes later, students from my high school began arriving and I actually looked up at the ceiling, mocking God, at a damn funeral. The front parking lot looked like people were showing up for an awards show. Each girl seemed to out-dress the last. And the theatrics! Don't get me started. Girls were literally sobbing into the arms of teenage boys who looked uncomfortable in their dress slacks. 

Fancy pants! Ariana would have called them. I chuckled at the thought and my mom shot me a look. My smile faded and I just shrugged and looked into my lap. 

Three cheerleaders walk into a funeral. 

It sounded like the beginning of joke, yet there was nothing funny about it. They were literally hanging onto each other as if attached by their bony hips. They all wore oversized black sunglasses that made them look like three insects. Or the Three Blind Mice. When they saw the casket, I heard the girl in the middle groan loudly. The other two girls wrapped their arms around her tighter. Taking a seat on one of the rows in the back, all three slid in almost in total unison. 

Cheerleaders. I rolled my eyes. They even cry in perfect sync.  

The room filled to capacity quickly. I don't think that many students attended the last assembly at school, to be honest. I scanned the room and although I recognized most of them, I couldn't say they were my friends. Or Ariana's. 

I grimaced as a group of four identical blondes strolled in as if they were on the catwalk. 

One of them - Taylor? Tyler? - stopped abruptly and gasped. 

"Oh my God!" She cried dramatically, waiting to be noticed. The other blondes stood behind her mimicking her expression. Someone ushered them deeper inside the room, as people slid even closer together trying to make some room for them to sit. They piled in like sardines. My mother pulled my arm so I would sit back down. I yanked my arm away, spun around and sat. 

Sound bounced off the walls in odd directions. I couldn't hear what the person at the end of my row said, yet I could hear every word being spoken by the very last handful of rows. 

"I just saw her last week!" I heard a voice say from behind me. "It's like, totally unfair! She was so pretty!"

"I know." Another voice agreed. "So pretty! It just, like, sucks because last night? My mom baked her famous chocolate cake, right? But I totally didn't eat it because it's like a gazillion calories, okay? But then, I was thinking about it and Ariana totally could've just eaten cake, because like - duh - she's dead, okay, and so who cares? Eat the cake! Like, calories don't count when you're dead, and so I could not fall asleep because all I thought about was that damn cake and how if I die, like, today? I'd be so pissed that I hadn't eaten any cake, you know what I mean?" 

"What the-" I blurted. 

"Folks," an older man announced and cleared his throat. "we're about to begin. Please kindly take a seat."

My eyes were wide and my face flushed with heat. What the heck was wrong with these people? I slipped my headphones into my ears. I couldn't bare to hear anymore. 

Ariana, my best friend, was just a few feet away, yet I was totally alone in a room full of people. The room suddenly felt way too small, as if the walls were closing in and trapping us all inside. Like a haunted funhouse. 

When we were twelve, Ariana and I convinced our parents to drop us off at the local carnival one Friday night. We told them we were meeting Melanie, one of our friends, and her parents. Neither Melanie nor her parents had any intention of coming. Basically, it was just us girls and no parents. We were ecstatic. 

My mom handed me forty dollars and told me she'd be back to pick us up in a few hours. Ariana and I hopped out of the car, bought tickets for the rides, and walked in like we owned the place. We went on every fast ride we could. If it went upside down, backwards, or both? We were going on it. Jetting through the Maze of Mirrors, we bumped our heads more times than we could count as we walked into mirrored walls. We finally found the exit, blinded by our hysterics. Laughing, we ran hand-in-hand to a ride shaped like a giant serpent that spun in every direction. 

After eating corn dogs, cotton candy, popcorn, and washing it down with a frozen Coke, both of us were nauseas, dizzy, and coming down from an intense sugar high. 

"Look!" Ariana said, pointing straight ahead. "A funhouse ride!" 

I squinted. A makeshift haunted house stood erect in the dirt with its lights blinking bright. 

House of Horrors a sign in neon green read.

Ride if you dare! 

"Ugh." I rolled my eyes. "Lame!"

"Lame?" She asked. "You're scared!"

"Am not!" I argued. 

"Okay then, we're going on it!" She demanded

and grabbed me by my hand. I let her tug me along, mostly because I didn't have the energy to fight it. I was nauseas from all the junk food and rides. 

At least there aren't any loops, I thought and followed her. There was no one else in line, so we could get right on. The thought of sitting down was pretty appealing the more I shuffled along the dirt. 

A  skinny guy with greasy hair and faded black jeans motioned for us to get on the ride. We shoved the last of our tickets into his dirty hand and hopped into a metal car. He tossed our tickets into an old bucket and mumbled, "Keep your hands inside the vehicle". The silver bar clicked and we pulled it down towards our laps, locking it in place. The car jolted, stalled, and then started up again with a quick whoosh making us scream and laugh. 

Two black doors opened to let our car through, and we squeaked down the track. The ride was dark with black lights illuminating Ariana's white shirt and my shoe laces. Glow-in-the-dark ghosts popped out on springs. Scary music played loudly and our car curved quickly around a corner. We entered the next part of the ride which was set up to look like Hell. It had fake flames and a giant devil laughing over a cauldron. Steam gushed in making the room way too humid. I coughed. 

"Ew!" Ariana gagged as steam hit her. "So gross!

The devil rocked back and forth laughing. It grew really hot in there and I fanned myself with my hand. Wooden caskets stood upright and would pop open, creepy ghosts jumping out. 

Suddenly, our car came to a halt. We waited, both of us secretly hoping we'd start up again and get going. 

"It stalled!" I yelled to her, hoping she'd hear me over the music and cackle of the devil. 

"Don't be stupid!" She scolded. "It's part of the ride." 

We waited another minute. Our car didn't move. Even in the dark, I could see the look of concern on her face. 

"Hey!" She called out. "Our car stopped!"

I looked around hopefully. 

When no one came, she yelled out again. 

"Hello? Our car stopped! We're stuck in here! Helloooo!" 

Our patience quickly turned to total fear. I turned to look behind us. 

"Did you see anyone else get on?" I asked her. 

She turned around to look behind us, too. She shook her head. 

"Me neither." I said. "We were the only ones in line. What if- what if they forgot we're in here?"

I could tell she wanted to argue and tell me that was crazy, but instead she sat wide eyed in silence. We began to panic. Ariana pushed up on the metal bar that rested on our laps, but it wouldn't budge. We were stuck. I began taking short, quick breaths. Ariana started to cry. 

"I want to get off!" She screamed. "Help! I hate this! I want to get off this ride!"

Sitting now, watching a funeral service for my best friend, the memory of that carnival came flooding back in my memory with great detail. The same pit in my stomach returned, making me queasy. My brow began to sweat and I fanned my face with my hand. I felt dizzy. 

I felt trapped; squeezed into a seat that I couldn't get out of. Hot tears stung my cheeks and my lips quivered. I pulled my earphones out and shoved them into my bag. I felt like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room, and struggled to take each breath. 

I want to get off! I screamed in my head. Help! I hate this! I want to get off this ride!