What would she have worn?

We'll never know what she would have worn tomorrow night at the Prom.  We know it would have been sexy.  Someone would have whispered catty words of "Bit too tight, don't ya think?" or "What do you want to bet one of them falls out of the top of her dress before the night is out?"
But I would have loved the dress, told her she looked beautiful and meant it.  I would have turned a deaf ear to the cattiness. The Lexi's of this world will always bring out the cats. But thankfully that doesn't stop the Lexi's from being who they are.  Real, Honest, Irreverent, Reverent, Trusting, Caring for others, but not caring what others thought--well maybe caring and maybe hurting, but still determined to be themselves.
Tears well up in my eyes as I write this.  She was one of the students who made taking all the crud from some of the others worth it.  A hug, a wink, and that sound she made as if I was her horse and my world would shine brighter instantly.
She would have been beautiful and I would have been out there dancing with her and relishing that deep laugh of hers.
Instead the dance floor will be empty even when full.  I'll most likely end up holding her best friend as she sobs (and others will hold her too).  Just yesterday, I held A. in the hallway as tears flowed.   Then I found an empty room where we could talk. English teacher/mother--that's my title and I can't be the first one without being the latter).
Looking forward to tomorrow night, yet dreading it.  She should be there. 
Today I passed the cross they erected in the field where her car came to rest on that February morning.  It's white and plastered with messages--mine included.  The white makes sense--the black marker shows up.  But it should be neon pink or orange or purple or a combination---something no one would miss, just like no one would ever be in a room with her and not know she was there.  She loved bright colors; she loved life, and she lived her life to the fullest every day until her last when she took a curve too fast.
I had meant to take my camera to school that week.  For some reason I wanted a picture of her and me and one of her and her two BBF's.  Why? Did I sense something?  I don't know.  I do know that I didn't get those pictures and now I can't.  A lesson I hit and miss with as I maneuver this life of mine: When I get a strong feeling to do something, I need to DO IT!

Sometime next week I will post pictures of her BBF's and me.  You won't see the hole in the group hug--the gaping hole---that hole won't be visible even to our eyes. But we will FEEL it!  Oh how we will feel it!

My post about her death is here.

The principal suggested that the English teachers work with the students to  help them "write through this."

There are only two of us and I'm the one who had her in class.  So the task was mine.  She and her two best buddies sat in a back corner together.  I permitted that because they worked better and were much less disruptive if they were together.  So that first week after two weeks of being snowed in after her death, A. and J. worked on this bulletin board in the art room.  They weren't yet ready to sit in my room without her and I understood that.  Students are still adding to the bulletin board---I need to take another picture of it.

The last picture here is a blurry one I took of her memorial bulletin.  The picture was her class picture from last year.  The other one is more accurate--more recent.

Neither does her justice.  But I'm not sure any photo could capture the essence of Lexi. We'll never know.