broken//matthew espinosa

Chapter 35: sydney

matthew
Gilisnkys sister died a couple years back because of lung cancer. She was only 12 at the time, and he was 16. I remember him skipping meet ups and events to comfort her sister during her chemo therapy, because his parents had to work. He always brought her flowers and did all her missed class work.
He was what looked like the perfect older brother.
Until one day, he visited her, and she was having trouble breathing. The doctors tried everything they could, but she didn't make it. She died, and he had watched her, panting and gasping for air. It was useless.
The human body is stupid and selfish, and I just wish this mother fucking earth would tell the body to "suck it up and live a little longer."
Because once they're gone, they're gone.
Carter was gone. He is gone. He's long gone. I guess he's with Sydney now. Up there, in what everyone thinks is heaven. Sydney was awesome. She really was an awesome kid. She was just like me, and her and I clicked. She would curse all the time around me, and would only take her 20 minutes to memorize every single word in a rap song. I remember buying her albums and albums of CDs, and she would sit in her hospital bed and illegally download them. Sydney was badass.
Sometimes I wonder if her parents regret not visiting her that much. I'm sure they do. They only visited her for 1 hour a day. Jack skip classes to visit her, and almost everyday, he would fall asleep in her room.
Why do the good ones go?
Why not the bad ones?
My sneakers are wet and my socks are cold and damp. It's so cloudy, and it's raining. I pull my hoodie over my head, and continue to walk down the sidewalk, away from school. I hear splashes and footsteps behind me, and turn around to see Chloe, a girl in my biology class. She stands there, out of breath, holding a piece of paper.
"You forgot this." She says, and hands me the paper. I look at it, and I see my biology notes. I smile at her.
"Thank you." I say. She smiles, and adjusts her backpack.
"Can I walk with you?" She asks.
"Sure." I tell her. She walks next to me, and I can't help but notice the scratch on her face.
"What happened?" I ask her, pointing to her cheek.
"My cat scratched me this morning." She laughs. Her nike shirt has turned from a light blue to a darker blue, and her sweatpants are soaking wet.
"I'm sorry about your clothes." I say, stuffing the paper in my sweatshirt pocket.
"These? It's nothing." She says. We turn a corner and she pulls out her phone.
"Shit!" She says, and speeds off.
"Where are you going!" I yell, and she's halfway down the street already.
"Soccer practice!" She yells. I watch her blue shirt fade into the distance, and I can no longer see her. I finish walking home, and sit on the couch.
Chloe, huh?