Like To Be You ✓

nineteen

My mother and I attend Jennifer Chen's funeral on Wednesday. Her husband stands to the side, holding his children close. It's awful.

I take deep breaths to calm myself. My mother holds my hand when we go up to the coffin. Jennifer Chen looks unnaturally normal. Her skin is too smooth with makeup. Her lips are pink, as are her cheeks. She looks like a younger, pastier version of herself. I don't like it.

My heart thunders in my chest when we go sympathise with her husband. My mother is saying something to him and he's nodding feverishly, but everything is a rush of blood in my ears and all I'm doing is staring back at her two daughters and infant son.

They look up at me, eyes curious and null of any other emotion. Three-year old Koko holds her five-year old sister's hand. I've seen their pictures on the walls in her office. Koko and Fei and baby Lee.

I try not to panic. I hate this. I hate what's happened to this broken family.

My mother leads me away from the aisle and towards our seats at a corner. She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief and offers me a watery smile.

I hug her, knowing how hard it is for her. My mother and Jennifer Chen were friends in college. Then Jennifer Chen moved away to Spain for a few years, and when she came back, she reached out to my mother. And lo and behold, they were close friends again, and then she became my therapist.

I sometimes think that death comes soon to those who love life the most. My father. Jennifer Chen. Aiden Hammer from school, who died in a skiing accident during winter break last year.

They don't deserve it.

"Neil." My mother says during dinner. "Neil, honey."

I look up at her. Her hair is tied back in a girlish ponytail, and she looks pretty, like always. She looks like herself in the framed photo in Dad's old study, only sadder.

"Sorry." I say, and get up from the table. I rush up to my room and lock myself in the bathroom. Then I break down.

  x

I'm snuggled in my favourite reading nook by one of the top windows in our library, reading The Picture of Dorian Gray for what seems like the twenty-eighth time. It's dark outside, and all I can see is the sky and a few streetlights.

I readjust the pillow behind me and push a cushion away from under my back. The blanket shifts as I lean over the railing to look at my mother who's just entered. She smiles at me from below, then begins making her way up the winding staircase. I scoot over as she reaches the narrow landing. She crouches and adjust her legs and crosses them.

"You're wearing those jeans again. Dad's favourite." I say.

"He only liked them because they got tight over the years." My mother narrows her eyes teasingly and pushes my hair out of my eyes. "You need to get your hair cut."

I sigh and put my head on her shoulder. The space is small, so we're confined in an awkward position, but I don't mind it.

My mother holds me close and rubs my back, and the surge of tears comes back again, but I'm holding myself back. I've cried too much already.

I rest my chin on her shoulder and look out the window. Then I raise my head, peering carefully.

"Neil, what's wrong?" My mother turns to look outside.

"Nothing." I say. Nothing is wrong. The house is locked and the block is secure. It's Cartier Street, we have the best security out here.

But I know my eyes don't see just anything. They catch sight of a shadow behind a tree.

  x

My mother leaves for Philadelphia a day before the Halloween party. Because I am freaked out and don't want to be alone at night, I go over to Zayne's for a sleepover.

When he opens the door, I notice he's wearing Pikachu pyjamas.

"Nice pants." I say.

"Pika, Pika, bitch."

He opens the door wider and lets me in. The TV is on, and numerous packets of Cheetos and Doritos litter the couch. Esmeralda is already lying on the sofa, chewing on M&Ms.

"Ugh." Zayne says. "Get the pika outta here."

"Shut up." She says through a mouthful of chocolate.

Zayne snatches the remote from her hand and darts away. He changes the channel while Esmeralda shrieks and claws at him for the remote.

"There, perfect." He logs onto Netflix and picks a horror movie.

"No!" Esmeralda yells. Her cheeks are red with frustration.

"Pika Pika." Zayne says and throws a cushion at her. I leave my bag on a chair and drop down onto the couch.

Esmeralda looks at the both of us angrily and crosses her arms over her chest. "You're not gonna say anything? He literally bullies me all the time."

"Don't bully her, Zayne." I say and open the bag of cheetos. Zayne laughs.

Esmeralda rolls her eyes. "Ugh, boys!" But she still comes between the both of us and makes herself comfortable so that Zayne and I have to fold our long legs awkwardly. Zayne tries to shove her away, but she doesn't budge.

During each intense scene, we take turns scaring Esmeralda. At one point, Zayne has to accompany her to the bathroom because she's so scared, and then he switches off the light and holds the door handle so she can't open it. Mrs Sanchez comes rushing down when she starts screaming and banging at the door.

"Jesus." Zayne says as Esmeralda continuously hits him and scratches his arms. Her eyes are red with tears. Mrs Sanchez glares at Zayne and pulls at his ear.

"Pika Pika." Zayne says apologetically to Esmeralda, hugging her tightly. "You're such a wimp."

That earns him two smacks from his mother and sister.

  x

Moby-Dick isn't in the library. I stare at the open glass enclosure where it usually sits, cool and safe. Now it's fucking empty.

I search the entire house and back garden. I even brave the spiders in the storage room. I lock the doors to the library and every other room in the house and run up the stairs and to the roof. People are setting up for the party. I take a careful look at everyone, from those setting up the bar to those managing the music instruments.

Fuck, I'm thinking. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

"You okay?" Zayne comes to a stop next to me, holding a bottle of vodka in each hand.

"The book's gone." I say. My heart threatens to claw its way up my throat.

"Oh, fuck."

o-o-o

a/n

These past couple chapters have been a bit intense😬😬
Next chapter is 😳🤫🎉🎊

P. S. I know about how old books need to be kept at the perfect temperature with the perfect humidity percent literally only because of Netflix's You.

P.P.S  You should watch it.