ANGELA ROBB
HAZEL DIED on a Tuesday, which was kind of bizarre because until then it was the most boring Tuesday ever. We’d just been for hot chocolate at the doughnut place down the street from our school, because we had double maths last thing and figured we deserved it just for not sticking pencils in our eyes an hour in. Hot chocolate with Hazel was always interesting because for some reason that’s when she got super philosophical, thinking way outside the box, I mean not even in the same room as the box.