As she reached out to touch the statues hand, she was taken aback by the iciness of it... it was like shaking hands with death. Maybe this is what it would have felt like if she had touched the hand of her dead friend while she lay in her casket, the open casket. She could not bring herself to view the body, let alone touch it. Adults tried to tell her that it would be good for closure, to help her to say goodbye. Katie, however, did not want to say goodbye. As she held the hand of the statue, a chill past through her, causing her to shiver. Just then, an arm reached around her, draping a pale blue sweater around her thin shoulders.

It was her father. "In time things will get better, You'll see..."He assured her. With a heavy sigh, she walked away from him,, without looking back.

That night, Katie was plagued by a dream, not a nightmare, but unsettling just the same. She saw Amy, sitting at the foot of her bed, smiling at her. She awoke with a start, and asked herself: had she dreamt about Amy, or had she seen a ghost?

The next day she told her mother about the dream.

"It's only natural for you to be dreaming about her...she was your best friend." Her mother said soothingly. She started to braid her daughter's hair the way she always did. Of course, Amy always did it another way, the way that Katie preferred.

Later that night, at bedtime, Katie decided to write in the journal at her bedside. White, with a shimmery pink rose on the cover, it reminded Katie of the white birthday cake at Amy's last party, complete with frosted roses. She bit the end of her pen, and instead of being able to write, found herself distracted instead. The image of the frosted cake brought her right back to the memory of the party...and she found herself there again, in the meadow on the lazy summer afternoon. Again, she could taste the sting of the pink lemonade on her lips, smell the fresh summer grass, and feel the cool breeze wafting through her hair. Then, again, she could hear the voice of her friend as if she were sitting right there.

"Friends until the end!" Katie said proudly, holding up her glimmering glass in a toast.

"Until what end?" Amy asked, scrunching up her nose, causing those freckles to dance again.

"Until the end of life, of course!" Katie answered.

"Who says it has to end? Just because life ends doesn't mean that friendship has to end. Not in life, not even in death."

"How can people be friends after they've died ? They can't silly!" Katie protested.

"Yes they can! I once read about a girl in 1852 who died from consumption, and after they buried her, her ghost haunted the house of her best friend, calling her to join her in heaven. A few weeks later, her friend died too, suddenly and mysteriously." Amy said defiantly, her pale cheeks now burning hot pink.

"That's just something that you made up..."Katie argued.

"Uh uh... it really happened. I even heard that the surviving loved ones went mad from all the nightmares..." Amy's voice trailed off,... and then suddenly the air around Katie stung at her as if she were outside. She reached out for Amy's hand, and recoiled at the icy feel of it. A bit like touching a corpse, she thought. Then, she jumped at the voice calling her name.

"Katie! What in heavens name were you doing outside? You'll catch your death out there in your nightgown! That's the second time this week!” Her mother shouted, leading her back into the house.
Perplexed, Katie turned to her mother. " Outside? Was I outside? Why,..I was just in my room talking to...." She turned to her bed, her voice trailing off..

"Talking to who? There was nobody in your room...I just checked." Katie was then tucked into her bed, her open journal facing up at her, almost smiling at her.

"Hopefully you will soon grow out of this dreadful sleepwalking." Her mother scolded gently. She kissed her daughter goodnight, closing the door behind her.

Katie was alone now, in her bed...or was she?

The next morning Katie awoke feeling strangely refreshed, as if she had slept most of her life away. Like Rip Van Winkle, she thought. At the breakfast table she nibbled on some dry toast, swirling her runny eggs with her spoon.

"If you're not going to eat it, fine... but don't play with it!" Her mother scolded. Katie drank her orange juice, suddenly wishing it were pink lemonade. Later that afternoon, she found herself in that room again. Facing the open journal, she expected it to still be empty. Instead, it was now filled with tiny, intricate handwriting. Not like her own though. Like Amy's. Her heart pounded as she read the contents. It told of the girl who died, coming back from the grave to beckon her friend to join her....then there was something else scribbled, hurried...

"Friends until the end."

The journal recounted the conversation the two girls had at the birthday party, about how true friends never parted, not even in death.

Katie stopped reading. Her thoughts returned to the cemetery. She remembered reaching for the outstretched hand of Amy's statue, shuddering at its icy invitation. She flipped through the journal until she reached some blank pages and started to write about her odd dreams.

For the next two weeks, she continued to keep the journal, each entry detailing an evolving dream. Each dream involved a visit from her dear departed friend who reached out her hand to summon her... and she described the feeling of her friend's cold lifeless hand.... as cold as stone. Her sleepwalking worsened as well. Not only did she sleepwalk every night, but she would wake up further and further from home...and closer and closer to the cemetery.

Finally, one night, she made it all the way to the cemetery, all the way to the section where Amy was buried. In a trance-like state, she stood there before the memorial statue, taking its hand in her own. She awakened briefly, then collapsed.

The next morning she was found by the groundskeeper shivering in the early winter air. She was taken home, where she took to her bed. After falling quite ill, a doctor was called...but not in time, for she soon succumbed to pneumonia.

Her grieving parents decided that it would be nice too if they immortalized their daughter in a memorial statue, and commissioned the very same sculptor who created Amy's likeness. It only seemed fitting to place Katie right beside the resting place of her best friend. Also, as a lovely touch, the sculptor combined the two statues together, side by side.

Holding hands in friendship. Included was the inscription:

FRIENDS UNTIL THE END.

NEVER PARTED, NOT EVEN IN DEATH.

As Katie's mother looked at the statues, a chill went through her. Gazing at the cherubic faces, she could have sworn that they were both smiling.