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Davey is crying so hard he has to press his fist into his mouth to stay quiet. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, legs dangling because they don’t reach the floor yet. The room feels too big tonight. Too empty. The hallway light spills in through the cracked door, and it makes the silver necklace on his chest shine.
The initial A on the necklace looks wrong. He grips it between his fingers until the metal warms against his skin. His nose is stuffed. His cheeks hurt. He keeps wiping them with the back of his hand, but more tears keep coming like they’re mad at him for trying to stop them.
He doesn’t understand: Austin is his best friend, best friends are supposed to match.
He squeezes his eyes shut and the memory pushes in anyway.
—
Yesterday, under the big plastic slide, everything smelled like hot rubber and dust. The ground was all grass and mud steps. Austin had looked nervous.
“Close your eyes,” Austin said, standing right in front of him. Davey did.
He heard the tiny clink of chains. Felt small fingers fumbling at the back of his neck. Austin’s hands were shaking a little. “Okay,” Austin whispered. “Don’t look yet.” Davey waited. He could hear kids yelling somewhere near the flowers. His own heart thumping because surprises were exciting.
“Now.” He opened his eyes. Austin was already wearing one. The chain sat crooked on his collar. The letter A rested on his chest.
Davey looked down at his own…
Also A.
He blinked. “But… my name starts with D.”
Austin’s face went red immediately. “I know,” he rushed out. “I know. But I–I like Alice.” He said it in one breath, like if he didn’t say it fast it would explode inside him.
Davey didn’t say anything at first. Austin kept talking, words tumbling everywhere. “But I still wanna be your best friend. Okay? I promise. I just–when she smiled at me I felt all weird in my stomach. I didn’t mean to make you not match.” Not match. The word lodged somewhere ugly.
Davey nodded back then, because that’s what you do when you don’t know what else to do.
—
Now? He’s alone in his room, and the silence is loud. He pulls the necklace off over his head. The chain catches in his hair and it stings. He doesn’t care. He just stares at the letter sitting in his palm. It isn’t his.
He thinks about how he and Austin used to draw their names next to each other on everything: on chalk, on foggy windows, on the dirt with sticks. D + A. D and A. Always together.
He presses the metal against his chest again and it feels cold this time. “I don’t even like Alice!” he screams to the wall. His voice wobbles and that makes him cry harder, because it sounds small. He hates sounding small.
He curls onto his side, clutching the necklace tight in his fist like if he holds it hard enough maybe it’ll turn into a D. Maybe tomorrow Austin will say he got it wrong. Maybe he’ll laugh and say, “Oops, that’s not yours.” But deep down, Davey knows that wasn’t a mistake.
Austin chose the A, and Davey is left holding it.