After You

Max

Alfie,

I'm so glad I wrote that first letter to you. I was sceptical at first, but Mrs Linton – that's the bereavement counsellor – read it and told me that it was very open and honest, and that I had no reason to think I didn't need counselling. She said it was clear that you meant a lot to me, and I'm glad it came across that way. Sometimes it feels like everyone at school underestimates how much you meant to me. They understand that the others are still sad, but they're telling me to stop "milking it", because everyone else at that school knew you for longer than I did.

They're right, but they're also wrong. They knew you longer, but I knew you better than most. I won't say best, because I know that Willow and Finn and Jacob and Jess all have me beaten on that front. I don't know how to explain it, though. Maybe they know you better, but I know you differently. I saw you in a different light.

You're the one who used to come out with all those random insightful quotes. I used to think you picked them up from motivational cat posters on Google, until you showed me the Philosophy bookshelf in your parents' study. You picked each book up and gave me a short introduction to each one. I think that's the point when I realised that you weren't just spouting some hipster rubbish; you genuinely had a passion for the great minds of the world, past and present. One of my favourite quotes you introduced me to was, "You can tell a lot about a person by the way he treats his inferiors". I can't remember who said it, and it's probably a terrible paraphrasing, but it always reminded me of you.

I'm not calling myself inferior to you. My self confidence isn't that low, I promise. It's just that I always saw myself as inferior to you, in so many ways, from that very first day at your school. When you showed me around, you were so effortlessly cool. You'd never have described yourself as one of the popular students, and yet very few people had any bad words to say about you. You were Head Boy, you were popular with staff and pupils alike, and even though you didn't have to, you chose to become friends with this wimpy, terrified new kid. It could have been social suicide for you, and you did it anyway.

I hate phrases like "social suicide". Even more so, given recent events. Sorry.

That was a side of you that you never showed to the others, for some reason. You never came across as being obsessed with how others saw you, but you still cultivated this image of the aloof hipster, coming out with random philosophical quotations as and when the feeling took you, but never really opening yourself up to anyone.

I'm not naive, and I'm not assuming that I'm special in any way. I'm sure you opened up to the others too, even more than you did to me. It just meant a lot to me that even as the outsider in your group of friends, you never treated me like I mattered less. The others kept their distance. Finn was friendly, but Finn is like a puppy. He's friendly to anyone who smiles at him. Willow was slightly more cautious, but I know that she liked the friendship group you had already, and change makes everyone nervous. Jacob was never unpleasant, but I'm not sure I'd say he was pleasant either, and I simply never took the time to get to know Jess. You were the only one who welcomed me in and treated me as though I'd been your friend since childhood.

About a week after you told me we were friends, we were partnered up for an English project. I can't remember what it was now – something daft like interviewing your favourite character from literature – any literature. In a room full of Harry Potters and Katniss Everdeens (with the odd Mr Darcy or Cathy Linton from those who wanted to appear clever), I tried to work out who your favourite character would be. Willow had already announced herself as Catherine, so I presumed you'd be Heathcliff. I was sure you'd roll your eyes and scoff at my choice of character.

When the first argument of our friendship turned out to be who'd get to play the role of Atticus Finch, I finally allowed myself to hope that I'd found a friend for life.

I really miss you, Alfie.

Max