Gift of a Lifetime

II

I was simply flipping through the pages, scanning the headings, when one caught my eye. Page 19, paragraphs of print and, at the bottom of the page, a newspaper article. The heading -You Never Know What's Coming. I skimmed through the passage, reading a few sentences every few lines.

One of New York's top mysteries, a perfectly healthy 13-year-old mysteriously passes on in his sleep. Detectives still aren't quite sure how something like this has happened.

Suspected to have died the night of the fourth of July, 1998.

Julias Wright, a native New Yorker.

"He had the kindest heart a kid could have," says his mother, "I really don't understand what went wrong."

"We all appreciate the things Julias has done," Says Mayor Oakley, "He will not be forgotte-

"What ya got there?" Jayden's book was closed, and his gaze was focused intently on mine.

"This really tragic story," I stammered, unable to comprehend how something like that could happen. Instead of trying to explain, I picked up the book and flipped it over so he could read it.

I watched his expression change as he skimmed through it, like me, his eyebrows creased and his mouth fell open. "That's terrible.."

"Yeah," I flipped the book back to me, "I hope his family's okay now."

• • •

That night I lay on my back in my bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking. How could something like that be possible? I thought. Then I realized I was thinking way too hard about this. What's done is done.

As I rolled over on my side to face the wall, my mind went to Lindsey. Flashes of orange, crooked smile, pale skin, how she always knew how to make me laugh, and I knew how to make her, the way we sometimes didn't even have to speak to each other to understand. I missed her touch, I missed her voice, her presence -I missed her. I wondered that night, what she was doing at that moment. Whether she was fast asleep or suffering from insomnia like me, or if it was the middle of the day for her and she was at work, or if she was bickering with her sister or her father; or if she was still even here. She could have died yesterday in a car accident or even years before, or got too bad of a cold, could even have been brutally murdered just a few minutes ago, and there was nothing I could do to help her. I wondered if she even remembered me or thought of me every day like I did her, thinking of how things could've been different.

When I rolled back to my back, tears brewing in my eyes, I thought of Jayden. I wondered what he was doing at that moment; whether it was sleeping or thinking like me, or maybe reading or drawing because he couldn't sleep either, or eating or getting water because of a dry throat, or maybe he was thinking of me, too. Maybe he was lying on his back in the position that I am, thinking about me. If he was thinking about me, what was he thinking? Was he wondering if he should've never said anything to me in the first place? Or thinking about how proud of himself he is for helping me? I wondered if he even had a clue how much I needed him.

Then I found myself crying. Sitting up in my bed, hating how much I thought at one time and how I did, hating how I once felt about Ryan and the confusion of how I did now. Did Jayden ever think like this? Did he ever think so fast he couldn't stop, feeling like the only thing that would stop it was dying or feeling pain?

My legs tightened to my chest, and I pressed my head on my knees while I pulled on my hair. Did Jayden ever feel like he was the most annoying person in the world, just by existing, or feel like he was loving people he shouldn't or hating people he should love? Why, I asked myself, my hands tightening and pulling, sending a sting throughout my head and face, Why did I have to come back? Why couldn't I just die, be put at rest, just go to sleep and never wake up, why did that stupid person give me another life-

Suddenly I stopped, I lifted my face from my knees, released my hair, which, thankfully, didn't fall out at all. What if . . .

• • •

The next day at school, when I was washing my hands in the bathroom alone, I heard footsteps. Startled, I turned and saw Ryan. He paused, surprised to see me here. He looked better. He had more color to his skin, less pink under his eyes, and seemed more down-to-earth overall.

"Are you okay?" He walked up to me, reaching for my arm in the gentlest touch, "You're so pale, and you're eye bags are terrible."

When I looked in the mirror, I looked dead. I wondered how no one noticed. Though it was morning, and I was barely into my first class, you'd think that someone would say something.

"Hey," He drew my attention back to him, "What happened?"

I lowered my gaze, wondering what to say -Couldn't sleep, or the most truthful answer, I want to die. But before I could say anything, he pulled me forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I had hugged Ryan before. Before I met Jayden we were so affectionate towards each other you'd think we were girls, but after we had all come back together Ryan hadn't been the same.

I hugged him back, my arms around his torso, and that was when I realized how badly I needed a hug again. I fought the tears, but I couldn't help it. After a few more seconds, he pulled away to look at me again, which, to his surprise, I was crying. I hated crying in front of people, but everything was just so hard right now -my parents are officially divorced, I still hadn't told Ryan how I once felt about him, and I just couldn't stop thinking.

"What's wrong, Tom?" He grabbed my face to make me look at him, "Please tell me. I want to help."

"I-" I stammered. Should I really tell him? "I think I killed someone."