For weeks after Joey’s death I stayed in my bedroom, alone. Nightmares of Joey haunted my nights; images of him drinking a red solo cup that heaved with wiggling white maggots, while bloody red tears streaked his face. It was worse if I slept in the tree house. Besides, I couldn’t stay in the tree house for more than a minute without busting out in tears or trashing the place in anger.
Slate Marshall was arrested on charges of manslaughter. That word, every time I heard it, made me gag. Manslaughter.Slaughter. That’s got to be one of the most violent words in all the history of words. And, it happened to my best friend.
Jase was brought in for questioning and then his father hid him somewhere away for the entire summer, away from the whole situation, and away from me. I didn’t get to see or hear from him for three months. So, I mourned for both my friends.
I only visited Mrs. Graley a few times; it was too hard for me to keep going. When you walked into her house, Joey’s scent was all around you, and my heart would ache inrealphysical pain. His sneakers were still kicked off and laying in the corner of the living room. The book he was reading lay open on the coffee table next to a bag of half-eaten potato chips, as if he could walk in at any minute and continue on with the life that was so harshly stolen from him.
I ended up just staying in my bedroom; dealing with the hurt and the pain all by myself, by drawing thousands of pictures of Joey and devouring handfuls of candy bars for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
And then, early in the morning of the first day of senior year, my doorbell rang, and I nearly fainted dead away when I opened it to find Jase standing on my front porch.
“Hey,” was all he whispered, and my tears rained down.
He awkwardly pulled me inside and sat me down on one of the couches in my living room; I could barely see his beautiful face through my tears. But, I couldn’t stop crying; and in my mind, I prayed to a God I was so angry with, to just let me drown in my own tears.
“I have something for you,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
I looked down, wiping my tears away to see him holding a small black box in his hand. His long fingers opened it to a short, thick, silver chain with a heart shaped locket that dangled from its center.
“It’s for me?” I asked, hiccupping on a sob.
“Yes,” he said, eyes blazing into mine. “It’s a bracelet. You have to open it and read the inscription.”
I leaned forward and softly placed my fingers on the heart and read it. The words, “Here’s To Falling,” were engraved into its front and “In Love”on the back. Unclasping it, my breath faltered as a picture of perfect, goofy-smiling Joey stared back at me.
I looked up at him through aching, teary eyes, and tried my best for a smile. “I love it, Jase. Thank you.”
His lips were pinched in a small, straight smile, and months of sadness clouded his eyes. Releasing the clasp, he placed the bracelet on my wrist and fastened it.I’ve only taken it off once since that day to move it to wear on my ankle, so it wouldn’t dangle itself against my clients when I tattooed them. I haven’t taken it off since.
Jase looked so different that morning; older, more of a man. It was hard to look away from him. It was hard not to cling to him; yet it was awkward to be together after so long with the last time we spent together being when we buried our friend.
In complete silence, he drove us to school in his new truck, which was an old, beat up, white Bronco that he bought with his own money right after his summer stint in some Juvenile detention center that sounded a lot like a military camp.
For that twenty-minute ride, I knew we were both trying desperately to block out the sickening images that terrorized us each night we were away from each other. We made it to the school entrance without speaking a word about the things that haunted us.
Finally breaking the awkward silence, he pressed his lips to my forehead and said, “I’m here now, Charlie. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. I’ve missed you so much.” I didn’t even remember walking through the metal detectors or seeing any other students. All I could remember was the feel of his warm hand in mine as he led me through the doors and into my homeroom class.
By third period AP Literature, I was feeling the severe effects of all the tears from that morning and laid my head against the cool, smooth wood of my table and promptly passed out. I woke up with a start when someone jabbed me in the ribs with a hard finger and kissed me on the cheek.
Jase smiled and walked to the seat across from mine, where some surfer-looking kid sat drumming his pencils against a stack of books on his lap. “Your ass is in my seat. Get it off before I kick it into the next classroom.”
Without saying a word, the kid leapt off his seat and sat himself down clear across the room. Damn.Jase Delaney got more badass while he was gone. For the first time in months, I think a real smile touched my lips.
Trying to focus my attention on our teacher, Mr. Falls, I sneaked a glance at Jase and caught him staring at me. It made my belly do all sorts of funny stuff, like riding on a roller coaster. And I couldn’t wait until he kissed me again.
While we were supposed to be playing a cheesy icebreaking game of ‘get to know each other’ with our tablemates, Jase nudged me under the table with his foot. “Bonfire tonight. You’re coming with me.”
“Alrightly there, Captain Caveman,” I laughed. It was the first time in three months I had laughed; it felt foreign and wrong and disrespectful to Joey.
“Grrr,” he growled low. “Me like cavewoman.”
I felt my face blaze up on fire. Holy crap, we were supposed to be talking about our favorite colors, foods, and music with the people at our table, and all that was happening was the kids were gawking at Jase and me while we were laughing with each other.Jase was back, and he was making my sorrow go away. Tears stung at my eyes.
“Ugh. Caveman missed his cavewoman,” he chuckled.
His? I was Jase’s?
IwasJase’s.
