Wednesday, 21 September
9:10 a.m.
“I mean like…duh! It was scary, man. Like they had pictures of her brains comin’ out a her nose.”
“Oh! That’s gross!”
“Shh!”
“Not me, man. He’s the one talkin…”
“Shh! If you want to talk like that, don’t do it in the funeral parlor.”
“It wasn’t me. It was them.”
McConnell’s Funeral Home overflowed with family, teachers, students, friends. Katherine Fitzpatrick’s casket was closed—a beautiful walnut box adorned with an arrangement of 16 red roses. Across First Street, Rosselli’s Funeral Home was equally packed for the wake of Veronica Mayberry. To Jason and Kim it seemed as if the entire town were present, yet at East Lake High classes had resumed their normal schedule. At the front of the room a priest sat with Katherine’s parents, her sister and a
