Teenaged Ricki has lost a friend and classmate to an eating disorder and, like everyone in her social group, is struggling with how to process the loss. Here she speaks at the funeral.
(Warning: Using this monologue without permission is illegal, as is reproducing it on a website or in print in any way.)
I didn't really prepare anything, uhm…Well, Rachel was a good friend to me. She always asked about my problems with boys or my family or whatever. She was always so happy. There was this one time we were sitting in her room, and she just stood up and started dancing for no reason. That's the sort of thing I remember most, I guess, about Rachel. That look in her eyes when she'd get an idea like no matter how much you tried to convince her it wouldnít work there was no budging, that was it. She had to do it or the world would end. I admired that determination in her, and I always wished I could have had some of it myself.
(No longer addressing the crowd, but herself:)
I thought Rachel was perfect. That's not even an exaggeration; she was beautiful and so smart and funny and exciting. But she was also aloof. You could hear it in the way she'd say “yeah, Iím fine” and force a grin so wholeheartedly that you just let it go and moved on. She played it off well too, really making us all believe that the distance was her own choosing and maintaining an air of mystery that only made her more alluring. But she didn't want it.