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We thought you’d promised forever, but we were wrong.
“I’ll see you later,” you said.
“We’ll go dancing Friday,” you said.
“You’ll help with English, right?” you said.
All of those casual promises thrown around on the assumption that you’d be alive, but now you’re not. I can’t pick up your shattered pieces when there’s nowhere left to put them.
--
It was a typical Saturday morning in late September.
Dana had slept in until eleven, eaten breakfast, then gotten started on the homework she had put off when she’d went dancing the night before. She, Chelsea and Terry had been planning to go since the start of the week, but then Ter had gone and gotten himself grounded again so it had just been them two. There had been a few Jokerz who had shown up to cause trouble- one of them had even grabbed her and pulled her onto their motorcycle, but hadn’t been counting on her clocking them in the nose and taking control. Security eventually ran them off, so she and Chels were able to enjoy the rest of the night the way they’d planned before heading back home before one.
She knew Terry had his phone taken from him as a part of his grounding, so she didn’t think his lack of messages strange. He’d sometimes find a way to contact her and complain about how bored he was, but besides those rare occasions he’d be on radio silence until Monday. It was nothing to worry about.
At least, that’s what she had thought until her dad knocked on her door.
“Dana?” he called, easing the door open and stepping inside. His voice had a funny quality to it. She wasn’t sure what it meant.
“Mrs. McGinnis just rang…” he continued uncertainly. It made her uneasy. Daequan Tan wasn’t an uncertain man.
“ Mrs . McGinnis?” she asked. She knew the woman, liked her even, but Terry lived with his dad. She didn’t usually hear from his mom. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” dad sighed, approaching to lean on the bed beside the desk where she sat. “She called to say that, well…”
He was hesitating again. He never hesitated. His posture was slumping further in on itself the more he spoke, and he shifted to kneel beside her chair and take her hand.
“Dad?” she prompted, a note of fear creeping into her voice. She had never seen him act like this. What could have happened to make him…?
“There was a robbery at Terry’s house last night, qiān jīn .” he said gently, as if it would make the blow of his words softer. She could tell what he was about to say. She could tell by the way he spoke, the way he took a steadying breath, and the way he pulled her off her seat and into a hug on the floor. She could tell what he was about to say, but it didn’t make hearing it any easier. The whisper of, “I’m so sorry, Dana. He’s gone.” that shattered her typical Saturday morning into a million pieces.
At first, she felt nothing.
“Gone?” she heard herself echo numbly.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” her father replied from what sounded like the end of a tunnel, even though she could feel him pull her closer.
There was a beat of silence.
Then two.
Then it hit her all at once.
Her dad helped her into bed, where she stayed the rest of the day.
It would be a long time before she got through a night without crying.
--
Chelsea held her hand during the entire funeral. It was early October now and the warmth was welcome. They had seats up at the front, beside Terry’s mom and little brother Matt. The poor boy sat half curled in his mom’s lap, silently clutching a stuffed dolphin for the duration of the ceremony. His mom, Mary, always kept a hand on him. Carding through his hair, rubbing circles on his back, wiping his tears away- anything to keep from losing contact with the only son she had left. When Chelsea started choking back quiet sobs, Mary was quick to pull the girl to her side and run a comforting hand up and down her arm.
The ceremony was closed-casket, but while everyone was standing to move outside, Dana approached Mary to ask if she could see Terry for a minute. One last time. Mary conceded and told the crowd to wait in the yard for a moment before the procession would continue, leaving the four of them alone with the coffins. She opened both lids, but Dana’s attention was pulled to the one closest to her. The one with her best friend- and boyfriend- Terry.
He looked… normal. She knew the cause of death had been a direct shot to the forehead, but looking at the skin now revealed no evidence of what those d*mn Jokerz had done to him. He looked almost alive, and if she didn’t concentrate on the odd tinge to his skin or the hollowness of his cheeks, she could almost convince herself that he would jump up and declare this all a joke that Dana was stupid for falling for. She’d punch him in the arm and berate him for playing a trick so mean, then he’d laugh and lean in for a kiss (because they did that, nowadays) but sober up when he saw how upset she really was.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry, Dane baby. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” he’d say in that tone of voice that always calmed her down.
Then he’d say “What do you think about ditching this place, huh? This suit’s killing me.” in an attempt to lighten the mood.
And then they wouldn’t go anywhere, because he wasn’t breathing.
And he wouldn’t say any of that, because he wasn’t breathing.
And she would never hear another one of his witty retorts that sent her into fits or receive one of his big warm hugs, because he wasn’t breathing- and his skin was the same temperature as the cold October air.
She helped Mary close the coffins again and they continued on with the ceremony, the image of Terry’s unscarred skin never far from her mind. Afterwards she convinced Chelsea, who was in no state to deal with her dad right now, to come stay the night at her place.
It helped, when she woke up crying that night. It helped to have someone near who missed him just as strongly, and in many of the same ways. To have someone close who could reminisce with her about the time he’d fallen into a bush trying to impress a boy he liked, or when he’d info-dump about his latest robotics project, or the way he’d comfort them by telling stupid jokes until they forgot what they’d been sad about. Up late chatting away like this, she could almost convince herself he was here at the sleepover with them and had just stepped out into the hall for a minute or something- but she didn’t. She’d done that at the funeral already, and it wasn’t a game she was going to let herself get lost in.
He wouldn’t have wanted that.
--
Dana, understandably, wasn’t in the mood for parties that month. She heard afterward about how Willie Watt had been pushed around by that sleazeball Nelson Nash, and made a point to sit with him during lunch the next school day. He seemed okay, and was even receptive to Chelsea’s talk about how both Blade and Nelson were in the wrong in this situation, and why he should find people who wouldn’t do that to him.
Later, he quietly asked Dana why she cared. It broke her heart to have to explain to him that she and Chelsea just wanted the best for him.
“You’re worth more than dregs who treat you like pondscum, Willie,” she replied vehemently. Then, in a softer tone said, “Chels and I will just keep reminding you until you can believe it too.”
He had a bewildered yet pleased look on his face before he gave her a nod and set off for home.
She hoped things would get better for him.
A few days later, as she was walking from her car to meet Jackie Wallace at the mall, a giant mech appeared and started smashing up cars in the parking garage. Dana ducked for cover, and as she did she spotted Willie standing on the garage level above them and mirroring the movements of the mech. Or rather, she realized with horror, the mech’s movements were mirroring his .
She glanced back down at the entrance to the mall and confirmed what she already feared to be true. Nelson and Blade were there, running from the mech-golem thing, which was currently tearing Nelson’s car to shreds. She took one more look at Willie as he made a ripping motion that was replicated by the golem pulling the car apart like a piece of taffy, then took off running for the stairwell.
She reached the level Willie was on and snuck up behind him- not hard considering his level of concentration on his rampage. She prayed that Nelson and Blade were still okay, then she struck- grabbing him from behind and pinning him to the floor before yanking the control visor from off his head and shattering it against the wall. The accompanying crash from the golem was deafening.
“No!” Willie screamed, straining against her hold. “No! No! I needed that! I was gonna make them pay! Hit them where it hurts!”
“You already did!” she screamed back. “Stop this! You never needed it in the first place!”
“It’s their fault! They had no right to treat me like that, you said it yourself!” he cried, trying to buck her off, but she drove a hard knee into his gut and forced him to lie still.
“That doesn’t mean you have any right to treat them like this .” she spat back.
He snarled, but didn’t put up a fight when she walked him down to the mall entrance to meet the police who had already gathered to deal with the now inert golem.
“I thought you wanted what’s best for me,” he muttered bitterly while the cops slapped a pair of cuffs around his wrists.
“I do want the best for you, which means I can’t let you do this,” she replied, feeling both sad and guilty. They had both betrayed each other in some respects today.
He asked her then, though it sounded more like he was wondering aloud, if she had befriended him as a sort of replacement for Terry.
“Of course not,” she replied vehemently. Then, in a softer tone said, “It’s something he would’ve done too.”
She couldn’t decipher the look on his face before he gave her a final nod and was escorted away by the police.
She hoped things would get better for him.
--
When Chelsea had stolen from her father’s house, she swore up and down that she had believed herself to be in a jungle treasure hunt the entire time- like a VR but so real that she hadn’t even noticed anything amiss. She was written down as attention seeking, (presumably) hopped up on drugs, clouded by grief and let off without a charge, but Dana knew her friend.
“I promise I’m not lying,” Chels said after she’d finished explaining what she remembered. Her eyes wide and desperate to have someone believe her.
“I know you’re not,” said Dana, because she did. She had known the other girl long enough to tell when she was pulling a stunt, and the fear in her voice was too raw to be faked. Chelsea was genuinely terrified at the prospect of being unable to trust her own memories, and worse, her own senses. Her family had no history of psychosis, but with a father too old fashioned to even consider the possibility, her options for receiving medical examinations were limited. Dana did her best to support her, mainly by offering Chels a place to stay. It felt more and more like she was becoming a regular part of the Tan household.
Other than that, life continued on until a week later when Jared Tate came up to them with a similar story about what had happened to his mom at her wedding. He said he was scared to go to anyone else because he knew how crazy it sounded, but he and Chelsea were able to find a lot of similarities between their experiences. It struck Dana as odd that both the victim’s episodes were centered around losing something valuable. She’d been acquainted with Jared for awhile, and he’d always seemed like a sincere guy- not the type to lie about this for kicks- but other than that gut feeling she didn’t have much clue how the incidents were connected. At least until Ira Billings, the school counselor, called her into his office.
“Hello, Dana,” he said with a smile. “Please, take a seat. You’re not in trouble, I just wanted to check up on you. See how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing okay,” she replied, feeling that twinge of unease that always came with speaking with unfamiliar school faculty.
“Now, Miss Tan, I talked to your friend Chelsea last month and she brought up how you’ve both recently lost someone very close to you. Terrence McGinnis, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to pressure you into it, but I’ve lost people as well and I want to make sure that you have the resources needed to deal with this in a healthy way. Talking through your feelings, especially with a licenced mental health expert, can be an immense help. Be it with me or another professional, can you promise you’ll at least try?”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. The suggestion was definitely worth looking into, even if something about the conversation so far was striking her as off, somehow.
“Your parents are understanding of this sort of thing and well off enough to afford it, right? I would hate to put you in a compromising position by emailing them a list of possible resources. Would that be okay?”
“Uh, yeah. They wouldn’t mind,” she said, and the meeting ended soon after that.
It wasn’t until later that she recognized what had felt weird to her about the conversation, at which point she texted Chelsea to ask whether Billings had at any point asked her about money. Specifically, her father’s money. She felt her gut tighten when she responded “yes.”
The next time she saw Jared she asked him the same question. He said they had discussed his mom’s latest boyfriend and how lavish the upcoming wedding was going to be, then asked what she thought was up with the guy.
“I dunno, but he feels a bit more concerned with material wealth than mental health. Be careful around him,” she replied, and Jared nodded in understanding.
A few nights later Dana remembered a detail of Chelsea’s story that she’d forgotten due to her focus on the jungle hallucination- the presence of a costumed figure with a glowing eye apparatus. Unfortunately, this was because her memory was jogged by that very same figure stepping into her path on her way home. The next thing she knew she was running to her dad’s office to grab a present she had left there, then dashing back out the front to hand it to- Terry? Oh this was great! She had been wanting to surprise him with this for ages, and now they could both enjoy the comfort of custom skates at the roller rink. They were both done with homework for the day, too- so they could go now and still be home by curfew. She would just have to let her parents know that- then her dad was in front of her, shaking her shoulders and telling her to snap out of it.
“-ana? Dana? Qiān jīn, can you hear me?” he cried.
“B- bà ba ?” she stammered. “Where did you come from? Where’s…”
“Where’s who? Honey you ran in and out of the house and have been standing here, completely unresponsive, for minutes! Did someone do something to you? What happened?”
She hesitated, realizing how bizarre her memories sounded. Then she remembered the concern and care her mom and dad had shown Chelsea in the wake of her own incident, and explained the whole thing. Her dad took her to the ER to make sure she was physically okay, and the next day her mom called Mrs. Tate and Mr. Cunningham about what had happened. Mr. Cunningham was able to pull strings and get a line with the police commissioner, who agreed to open the case up now that there were three new witnesses, which led to Dana voicing her own observations about Billings.
“It makes more sense the more I think about it,” she said to the middle-aged woman sitting in her living room, where the three families had gathered to bare testimony. “Chels talked with him about her father’s money, Jared mentioned how expensive the wedding was going to be, and I confirmed with him my family’s financial status and then suddenly we’re all seeing visions and losing valuables.”
“There have been a couple of copycat cases since Miss Cunningham’s story made the news, but the fact that you three are the only ones to mention this figure with the eye in their hand and have a possible lead is what raises red flags for me. Thank you for sharing, Miss Tan. I think your hunch will be useful to this investigation. And please, none of you mention this to Dr. Billings. If he’s involved we don’t want him catching wind of this and skipping town.”
Commissioner Gordon gave them all her contact info in case they saw more suspicious activity, then left with her partner.
Three weeks and a few more robberies later, Dr. Ira Billings was arrested and confirmed to be the mysterious Spellbinder.
Privately, she wished the man a rotten time in jail.
Tricking someone into thinking they’re seeing their dead boyfriend just to steal a laptop was a real dick move, after all.
--
School life continued normally for the next few months after that, though people were still careful around her when he would come up. It might have been pity, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. What finally broke the apathetic haze that had fallen around her was the arrival of a new transfer student, Maxine Gibson. Max was smart, witty, headstrong and energetic. She knew what she wanted and when life said no, she made her own way. It was nice, having her around. Refreshing to have someone that didn’t treat Dana like the destitute girlfriend of a dead kid doomed to wallow in the past, but instead as her own person who had potential and a future. Max’s appetite for life helped keep Dana from falling into the pit of her own self-destructive thoughts- something that she would forever be grateful for.
When Max got a perfect score on the GATs and didn’t turn the other cheek when some students made a vaguely racist comment about it being a mistake, Dana knew Terry would’ve liked her.
When Max doubled down and started searching for her own attackers after she realized the Jokerz raid on the school was targeted at her, Dana knew Terry would’ve adored her.
“I’ve written a program to narrow down potential suspects. I’m searching for kids that could be Jokerz and could have something against me.” Max revealed when Dana and Chelsea approached her in the computer lab during lunch.
“Are you sure it’s not an adult?” asked Dana.
“It’s possible, but less likely. My locker was the only one trapped and the computer that I usually use was the only one smashed.” Max replied, gesturing to the empty desk where maintenance had removed the vandalized computer that morning.
“Any faculty member could find out those things.” Chels pointed out.
“But not anyone would have the motivation,” said Max. “I’ve still included adults in the parameters, but I have a feeling that this is a student who doesn’t want me to have a good time.”
“Or be better than them,” said Dana.
Max shot her a questioning look.
“I’m better than practically everyone here, Danes. That doesn’t narrow it down a whole lot.”
“It does if you look at the GAT scores,” Dana said, leaning over to pull up the school’s list of scores and highlighting the top fifteen. “Factor in the people who could be angry you beat them to first place.”
Max’s eyes lit up.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re absolutely incredible?” she said, sending a blinding grin her way.
Dana smirked and squashed down the pain that came with the unwitting reminder.
“Yup. Glad you’ve finally got with the program.”
Max laughed and got back to work.
After school Max came up to them with a list, saying that she had explained it to the police assigned to this case already, but they had (unsurprisingly) dismissed her.
“It’ll be up to us to monitor these people on our own, then,” Chelsea said, pulling out her own phone to show Max the social media profiles of each person while Dana recounted any details she knew about them. The three agreed that Max shouldn’t go anywhere alone and set up a schedule to make sure she was accompanied at all times.
***
It worked well until a week later when Dana was coming to pick Max up at her door and found a Joker standing outside of it, water balloon of some sort held at the ready. The Joker, who wore pigtails, a lavender dress and the customary makeup, laughed when they saw Dana and tossed the balloon. It hit the wall behind her and splattered green paint that stung where it hit the skin not covered by her pants and jacket. She hastily wiped the paint off her hands and noticed that they were trembling, but not from fear. Jokerz. Here. Attacking the house of one of her best friends in the middle of the night.
She knew the paint was green, but all she saw now was red as she tackled the surprised Joker to the ground and blasted them with the pepper spray she carried. They writhed in pain, but were saved from Dana landing a hit by Max stumbling out of the door with a wild look in her eyes that had Dana off the floor and dragging her to the stairs in an instant.
“It’s Carter Wilson,” Max gasped as they tore down the stairs, conscious of the shrieking laughter following behind them. “He calls himself Terminal and wants me dead.”
Carter Wilson? Straight A, perfect GPA, popular shoe-in for valedictorian, Carter Wilson? He had come up on Max’s list, but hadn’t been seriously considered because of his otherwise outstanding track record. Nothing about him had ever seemed off, yet he was a Joker?
“My car’s at the curb,” Dana replied, wanting nothing more than to storm back up there and smash Carter’s face in. Slimy dreg. She was so gonna sign up for martial arts after this.
“They have knives. I didn’t see any guns,” said Max.
“Good to know,” said Dana, hopping over the railing and down the last flight of steps so she could wrench the door open and usher Max through. The Jokerz howling was right behind them as they tore through the lobby and out onto the street. She unlocked her car and climbed in, switching it into drive as soon as Max closed her door, but slamming on the breaks with a gasp when a figure jumped on her hood.
“Aww, Maxie,” they cooed, friendly grin marred by the black and white skull makeup caked on their face and the knife they held that glinted in the streetlight. “If we’d known you’d bring a friend we would’ve brought more party supplies.”
“F*ck off, Carter,” growled Max, eyeing the other two Jokerz who had surrounded the convertible.
This was Carter? Dressed as he was in a long black wig, bad facepaint and halloween straitjacket, she hadn’t recognized him- but now that she did, she had to restrain herself from rolling down her car’s top and strangling him herself. Getaway was more important right now, no matter how much the slagger deserved a beating.
Carter scowled and banged a fist against the glass.
“It’s Terminal to you, darkie scum,” he spat. “And neither of you are leaving here until you’ve sung me happy birthday.”
His goons must have been inbred because they laughed like that was the funniest joke in the world.
Carter, emboldened, plastered a deranged smile back on his face and held his hands out in a placating gesture.
“But I suppose the party crashing can be forgiven, since you’ve gone to the trouble of bringing me the best possible gift,” he said, eyeing Dana with dangerous glee.
“Are you having a good time, Dane baby? ” he jeered, spitting Terry’s old nickname for her like a taunt. “You like surprise parties, don’t you? I hear your boyfriend got to attend a real fun one. Did you wanna see what all the hype was about?”
She grit her teeth and gripped the steering wheel, not wanting to open her mouth and land them in more trouble, but Carter continued.
“I almost wish I’d gotten to attend, but I don’t bother with invites to parties on the lower levels. Maybe if you’d found yourself a partner that wasn’t kimchi-smelling low lev trash, you’d have someone to come to your rescue right now.”
That was enough.
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that!” Dana screamed, shifting gears and deciding that their best chance out of here would be by pulling a move that insurance would definitely disapprove of. She gunned it backwards, the sudden motion sending Carter tumbling off the hood while she swung the car in a wide arc to deter the other Jokerz. By that time Carter had jumped back up to his feet and was standing in her path.
***
“Get out of the way, Carter!” she cried.
“No! Gibson is mine!” he shouted back.
Well, she had warned him.
She hit the gas, watching as his eyes widened and he scrambled to move away before-
Thump .
Dana didn’t bother to look back and see how bad she’d clipped him, focused instead on handing Max her phone and telling her to find directions to the nearest emergency shelter while she called her dad with the car. After she explained what had happened and where they were going he assured her that he’d take care of the rest while she and Max got to safety, and that they should wait to be picked up at the shelter.
Later, when they had arrived, been admitted, and were huddled together on a couch in the shelter’s lounge, nursing bottles of water and staring off into their own sections of space, Max turned to her and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” mumbled Dana, surprised that Max was the one asking her this. “What about you? You just survived a murder attempt, dude.”
Max let out a little sort-of laugh and ran a hand down her face.
“I’m good. Gonna need a lot of therapy, I think. But I’m alive, so I’m good.”
Dana shot her a skeptical look.
“Seriously, Danes. You saved my life. I’m okay because of you.” said Max, reaching out to squeeze her hand.
Dana turned away and tried to squash down the pain that came with the unwitting reminder. It was a lot harder this time.
“For real though. What’s up?”
“I should be asking you this.”
“We both already know what’s wrong with me. It’s pretty obvious. Plus, I don't want to focus on my problems right now. Helping you will help me feel better. Talk to me, please? I’ve never seen you so mad.”
“You haven't known me very long.”
“But I want to get to know you better,” Max said, scooting closer to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I guess- well- okay, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, but it might help. Who was Carter talking about back there? What did he mean by all of that?”
Dana chewed at her lip and hunched her shoulders, suddenly unable to keep her foot from tapping rapidly. Now that the red hot anger was gone, she was just left with the hollow sadness that had been her constant companion since that day. Usually it was mild, and sometimes she was able to forget about it all together, but now in the wake of the attempt on Max’s life it was raw and chafing- threatening to break her down if she let it. It had almost happened again. One of her friends had almost been taken from her again .
She let out a shaky breath.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to-” Max started.
“No. I will,” Dana said, fighting to speak past the tightness in her throat. “He was talking about Terry McGinnis. My boyfriend. He… he was killed by Jokerz back in September.”
Max didn’t say anything, just pulled Dana into a full hug that she gladly returned.
“He was my best friend,” Dana said into Max’s shoulder, suddenly desperate that her new friend should know all about him. That Terry’s memory wouldn’t die with the people he’d known, but continue on in the people he would’ve been delighted to meet. “He was funny, and smart, and sarcastic, and he didn’t always make the best decisions, but he was kind . He was so, so kind, Max. You guys would’ve gotten along great.”
“Sounds like he was a pretty schway guy,” said Max.
“He was,” said Dana with a weak laugh.
Max chuckled as well.
“I think I loved him,” Dana confessed quietly. “I know it’s a stupid thing to say in high school, but I think I really did love him like that. With a capital ‘L’ and everything. He was there in all of my plans for the future. We were gonna try to make us work. Guess I’ll never know if we could, now.”
Max just rubbed a hand up and down her back for a moment before speaking.
“The idea that love, any kind of love, is just a feeling that happens to you always seemed too passive for me. I think that love is something that’s created deliberately. The lasting kind is, at least. Who cares if you were just two kids? Whatever you made together was real. The pain that loss causes is real too. Don’t discredit yourself there.”
Dana couldn’t help but smile. Even after almost getting murdered, Max’s focus was on helping her friends. Terry really would have adored her.
“Thanks,” Dana said.
“Anytime,” Max replied.
Weeks later, when the Jokerz had been locked away and things had returned to normal, Max approached her during lunch and presented her with a book.
“Chels helped me put it together,” she said upon seeing Dana’s reaction to the cover. “So did a lot of people. He was a pretty schway guy, Danes. Very kind.”
The book was made of real paper and filled with alternating pages of photos featuring Terry and pages of text. When she looked closer, she realized each paragraph was a story about Terry that had been submitted by different people. Friends, classmates, teachers, parents- all recounting some small anecdote or tidbit about her old friend, occasionally accompanied by a blurry photo.
She realized then that the photos weren’t actually blurry, she was just crying.
Max came up and hugged her, then Chelsea did, then Jared, Jackie, Howie, Blade, on and on until it felt like she had cried on the whole school’s shoulder.
Afterward, she went up and gave Max a hug, thanking her for doing this.
“Of course. Think of it as a ‘thank you for literally saving my life’ gift,” she said.
“Do you have another copy?” Dana asked, “I wanna give one to his mom and brother.”
“I can order another. It won’t take long.” Max said. “Do you wanna add your own stories to that one? I’ve asked everyone about him but you.”
“I would love to.” she replied honestly, shooting a bright smile at her friend, “Thanks again.”
“Anytime.”
--
Mary and Matt had loved the book, and ever since then Dana had ended up visiting their house regularly. It might have hurt, a few months ago, to be with people that were such stark reminders of Terry, but now it felt comforting. Mary had lost a son and ex-husband, Matt had lost a father and brother. They didn’t share the same types of grief, what with their relationships being so different, but they did share the memories and the love they had for the people they had lost. Mary was appreciative of the help Dana provided, seeing as she quickly became Matt’s regular babysitter and allowed Mary to work the hours she needed, and while they grew close, it was Matt who really latched onto her presence. Every weekday now, she would drive from her high school to the elementary to pick the boy up, then they would go back to his house, finish their homework, make dinner and spend the rest of the afternoon playing. Sometimes Dana would stay for dinner, but most nights she went home. Tonight, however, Mary was working late so Dana was in charge of putting Matt to bed.
After cleaning up dinner and getting ready for bed, Matt insisted on bringing Dana to the spare room where they kept all of Terry and Warren’s old things. They didn’t come in here often, but Matt said that there was a notebook of stories Terry had written down somewhere in here that he wanted to be read. It took a half-hour, but eventually they found the book in question. Clearly, he had loved the stories a lot to have gone to the trouble of recording them on a paper notebook, and when she had tucked Matt in and opened up the book she realized why. The stories were written out by Terry, but the drawings were clearly done by Matt. They had made their own little storybook together- a compilation of tales that were obviously home retellings of a dozen different stories mixed together.
Matt implored her to start reading, so she did, stumbling through the voices of the first story as best she could (though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what a Chancerian Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle was supposed to sound like). It was absolutely nonsensical. Pinocchio (who in this story was called Pinocciyoyoyoyoyoyoyo, and whose name was always to be read in an Australian accent) was trapped in a bottle by Pororo and had to be rescued by Aquagirl and Fluffy the Dolphin (Matt’s stuffed dolphin toy) using Princess Celestia's crown before Pororo could throw him to the shark. Somehow the four TMNT members were involved too, though according to the drawings they seemed to spend most of their time eating pizza, skateboarding and throwing out 1980s slang in the corner of the page. By the time Pinocciyoyoyoyoyoyoyo had been saved and Aquagirl appointed King of Everything, Matt had taken over most of the reading. It had started with a few corrections, but as they progressed the boy interrupted more and more to explain why something was happening, or what a certain drawing meant, or who had come up with what idea, or how to say a sentence exactly how Terry had always said it. Dana didn’t mind. It was nice to see Matt so enthusiastic about something, especially something concerning his brother. They made it through a couple more stories like this before she had to insist on lights out and retreated to the living room to wait for Mary.
The woman made it home a little past eleven, apologized for being so late, then asked how the night had gone.
“It was good. Matt had me read this book of stories he and Terry made,” she replied.
“Oh, really?” Mary said in surprise. “He’s never let anyone else read that to him before.”
“Really?” gaped Dana.
Mary shook her head ‘no’.
“Not even when his dad and I split. I tried, but he’d always say I didn’t do it right. Terry used to tell those stories to him every night- it was their dad who suggested they write them down. I’m so glad they did now…” she trailed off, coming over to pull the girl into a hug. “I’m so glad we have you, Dana. You’ve been such a huge help this year, for both me and Matt. He’s really doing better with you around. I know Terry would love to see how close you two have gotten.”
Dana felt herself choking up as she returned the hug.
“I’m glad I have you guys too. I feel like we’re family,” she admitted quietly.
“You know, Matty was telling me just the other day how he wished you could come live with us all the time. As far as we’re concerned, you are family, Dana Tan.”
By the time she’d made it home and gotten in bed, her cheeks hurt from smiling.
--
We thought you’d promised forever, but we were wrong.
We made casual promises on the assumption that you’d be alive to fulfill them, but now you’re not. I can’t pick up your shattered pieces when there’s nowhere left to put them, so I built somewhere new. It’s been hard, figuring out how to live life when one of your main pillars is suddenly gone, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. It’s been a year now, as hard as that is to believe. I almost slipped away a couple of times, but I think you would be proud of the place I’m in now. I’ve made new friends, I’m doing good in classes, I’m attending kung fu lessons and I’m even going out to parties again. I wish you could be here with me- things always seemed more fun when you were around- but I like to think that you’re happy for me, wherever you are.
I miss you a ton, and I’ll talk to you later, but right now I have to go. Your mom is holding a dinner in yours and your dad’s memory, and I need to go pick up Chelsea on the way there.
I’ll be sure to tell them all about the time we planted avocado seeds under the porch. I don’t think they’ve heard that one yet.
Love,
-Dana