It had rained that day, poured, even, leaving me wet and weary, waiting to hear what they had to say. Everyone was in black aside from my sister who'd managed to convince my mother that she deserved to wear pink; that spoiled brat.
"Friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Samara Beth Dunham. And as we do so we remember death is but a transition from one state of being to another — "
Oh. I guess I forgot to mention that. I'm dead.
I died at sixteen.
I suppose before I explain how that happened, it's important to emphasize I had a good, albeit short, life before I died.
I was born in Chicago; the second child of Christopher and Jane Dunham — second to Tahir (Arabic for "Pure," but for Tahir Dunham it should've meant The JOCK). My mom had always hated the normalcy of her name, often referring to herself as nothing more than a 'Plain Jane,' and she insisted well before we were born we'd all have exotic unusual names, even if we'd be three caucasian kids growing up in the Chicago suburbs. Anyways, Tahir was five years my senior, and a total jock. Seriously. If he could win it, he played it. I shouldn't have been surprised when he enlisted in the army just after my death. War was another game to him.
Two years after I was born came my sister, Adisa (Ashanti for "The One Will Teach Us" — HA!), aka The DIVA. I'm pretty sure if she could've come out of the womb wearing pink, she would have! Her interests were always more aesthetic than practical as she was two parts Priss, one part Valley Girl.
Oh. And I'm Samara (Hebrew for "Protected By God" — yet another irony considering I died before my sixteenth birthday, mom really needed to think harder on our names!), aka The GIRL NEXT DOOR. That's right, I'm the quirky one that grew up on the block and was ignored by virtually every boy because cute doesn't equal hot. Whatever.
Anyways, life on our street was pretty boring and straightforward. I had my best friend Lanny just a couple doors down and we were fortunate enough to end up in the same class at school virtually all of the time — which is totally wicked. In fact, life was about playing and Barbies and school until 911. Lanny and I were in social studies passing notes when we heard. It changed the world, even at thirteen I could tell that much.
It wasn't until three years later that my world really changed.
Lanny got into modeling and I was a dancer. A darned good one too: Talented, graceful, and athletic! Together as friends were like a tour de force, but she was the pretty one and I stayed the quirky girl next door. Anyways, she got a gig in New York in 2006. After much begging, pleading, and excitement I managed to convince my parents to let me go with her. Bright lights, big city! It was an adventure for two teens to explore, a new place of excitement! I was thrilled! Until the bomb happened. We weren't in Time's Square but were within the blast radius. I covered my friend to protect her and in that moment? I died. It was November 8, 2006.