GOLDEN ROSE • THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

CHAPTER THREE

I glanced at the portrait of Five above the fireplace. We were all here, at least all that was left of us.

I wondered what we would've appeared like to someone who was looking in at us now.

Like a kid who got a snow globe for Christmas. The kind with a little cottage and a snow man that was delicately painted for hours by some old man who lives in Vermont.

I'm sure that if we were actually in a snow globe, that kid would've shook the devil out of it and caused all this mess.

At least that's a more reasonable explanation than Luther blaming one of us for fathers death. I'm sure if Reginald were here right now, he would've shook his head disapprovingly at the whole idea of this meeting.

After all, death and loss didn't seem like an important event to the old man anyway. When Five ran away, I had to beg him to put some kind of memorial. When Ben died, he gave him nothing but a statue in the courtyard that we weren't allowed in anyway.

I wonder what would've happened if I died. Would I have only gotten a little wallet size picture on the refrigerator? Or maybe named a park bench after me?

Whatever it would've been, we gave the old man the equivalent of that, and exactly what he deserved. Poured his ashes in a puddle and said all but a few words about "the kind of man he was."

I'll spare you the boring details, mostly because I didn't pay attention to much of what Pogo was saying anyway.

The only thing I cared about was the big hole that opened in the sky and then spit out a 17 year old Five into the courtyard. It was on my mind since the moment it happened, and the only emotion I felt was pure bliss.