A guy, around seventeen, wearing jeans and suit jacket paired with beat up Vans and thick wool hat, stands up and walks up to the podium. He looks down at his crumpled note card but sticks it back into his pocket.

“Well uh, I guess you all know that I was much Jake’s best friend. He and I we did a lot of crazy shit together. Like the one time we tried playing ice hockey on the creek while it was only half frozen. He pretty much saved my ass by pulling me out of there. I guess I really do owe him my life.

No but uh, he really did help me a lot. I don’t know if many of you know this but uh, well, I was diagnosed with borderline last summer. He was the only who didn’t treat me like shit after I found out. Everyone else, okay well almost everyone, acted like I was a psycho or something. He really stuck to me, he never treated me any different. He didn’t have it easy either, I guess that’s why were such good of friends.

Man I can understand why you did it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Rest in peace.”