Unicorns On Wheels [Petekey]

30. Epilogue (Thursday)

2016/04/24 Thursday

Today I was excused from my lessons, not because I was too sad to keep learning or because Mr Bowie was sick – because I had places to be that were more important. To be more precise, I had to attend Pete's funeral and give a speech that I hadn't been able to write because my feelings kept getting in the way.

When it was finally time to give the speech that I hadn't written, I got on stage and blurted some rubbish about what a great life he had. That he'd stayed brave and humours right down to the day he died. I kind of wish it was all a lie, because Pete stopped being humours a long time ago. And as for brave: I don't think that was really a choice he had.

I didn't tell them that we kissed. I didn't tell them that he was my Best Friend for Life. And I didn't tell them that he borrowed The Boy in Striped Pajamas without giving it back. Somehow, some way, it seemed like a secret. Like something private that only we were allowed to know. I thought that maybe, when I got the chance, I'd whisper to his corpse. I'd tell him that he was my best friend for my life, whether his had ended or not.

But when I actually saw his body I didn't. It felt strange and unusual and he was lying so deathly still, as I'd never seen him before, that I realized that he wasn't my best friend for life anymore. And – more than anything in the whole world, I wanted to have my book back. Because it seemed like, of all the things left of him, that part belonged to me and it seemed unfair that I didn't get it back.

After the funeral, though, everybody ate cake and drank wine and some of them pretended to still be sad while the rest of them pretended not to be; I didn't fall into either category. When they were going to read his will, I was called in. I almost laughed at the idea of a will.

Pete was a 17 year old boy who liked wine gums and watching slapstick movies – he wasn't really the type to write himself a formal will.

And yet, there I was. Sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs in front of the desk of a lawyer. Pete had left for me two books. One of them which I was happy to receive back: The Boy in Striped Pajamas and the other, which I wasn't all that keen on having, The Fault in Our Stars.

I flipped through the pages of them both, going through The Boy in Striped Pajamas first and stopping at the last page. I'd previously highlighted a bit of a paragraph in pink:

'You're my best friend, Shmuel,' he said 'My best friend for life'. Shmuel may well have opened his mouth to say something back, but Bruno never heard it because at that moment there was a loud gasp from all the marchers who had filled the room as the door at the front was suddenly closed and loud metallic sound rang through from the outside.

In the next paragraph though, a bit had been highlighted by Pete. It was yellow.

And then the room went very dark and somehow, despite the chaos that followed, Bruno found that he was still holding Shmuel's hand in his own and nothing in the world would have persuaded him to let go.

And, for the first time since Pete had died, I allowed myself to dissolve into a puddle of tears. But I didn't think that I would ever, ever in my life do it again.

Regardless. I hope that one day, in the future, when I finally die; I'll see him again.

Mikey.

Xxx

Thank you so much for sticking around until the very end!

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Undying affections from yours truly,

Brendon.