What I'm Not

Chapter 26

I woke up in bed. The house was silent discounting the air conditioning. I sat up and walked out into the hallway. I stared at the door in front of my room before opening it. There, I could imagine Takara sleeping there, on the bed, not a sound coming out of his mouth. I shut the door. I walked downstairs and saw him dressed in his Winter Formal suit. He was smiling. Then he was gone.

The flashbacks hurt my head, making me want to cry. I walked into the kitchen and saw him cooking the same dinner from his first day after being dead. Then he was gone. I saw the entire family eating with Takara at the table, Dad staring at him, mom smiling, Takara describing the meal...

Me, leaning on his shoulder, cheeks flared and eyes full of puppy love.

But that was another world, seemingly centuries ago. Back when Dad wasn't in prison, back when mom wasn't a prostitute drug addict, back when Takara was alive, back when I had a family. I decided to skip breakfast and began my five minute walk to school.

When I arrived, I stopped by the cafeteria. In the lines, I saw junior high Takara and I waiting in line, talking about possible high schools we would be attending. But they weren't real. I waited in line and ordered a Pop Tart. As soon as the lady working behind the counter slid it to me, I lost it.

I burst into tears and fell on my knees as I cried into my hands. That was Takara's favorite breakfast: Pop Tarts. The woman ran around and helped me up.

"What's wrong sweetie," she asked.

I pointed at the Pop Tart. "That... that was (sniff) Takara's favorite breakfast. Pop Tarts." My cries continued and the lady hugged me.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," she said. "Do you want to go to the counselor's office?"

I shook my head. "I... I want Takara back."

The lady turned to the line and motioned a boy over. He was slightly taller than I was and was built like a football player. He had brown hair styled up and bright brown eyes full of concern.

"Please take her up," the woman instructed.

He nodded and placed his hand on my backpack. Gently, he guided me to the office.

"I read about what happened to Takara," he said as we climbed some stairs. "I don't know much about him, but if you cried because Pop Tarts were his favorite breakfast, he must've been the nicest guy a girl could have."

I tried to wipe my eyes in vain. "He... He helped me when I... was being molested in junior high."

He nodded. "I heard he also took beatings just so your dad wouldn't hurt you."

This wasn't helping. I cried some more. "I loved him," I sobbed. "He loved me as well. Now he's gone!"

That left him speechless, making my cries more audible. We arrived at the counselor's office and he sat me down in the waiting room. He apologized for my loss and left.

The counselor saw me crying and walked up to me. "Brooklyn, right? Let me guess, Takara?"

I nodded.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I... I want to go home..."

"Okay, just wait a second."

She went to her office and dialed some numbers on her phone. A few seconds later she was talking. I didn't pay attention, I just reflected on my time with Takara.

I remembered our first encounter, our first meal together, his days before he got an apartment, when we met Derrik and Brianna, when I kissed him at the hospital, when he appeared in my home the next day, his adoption, our first dinner, our first night together, my confession, our fight with dad, our-

"Brooklyn." I looked up. The counselor held a cell phone in her hand. "For you."

I held up the phone to my ear and sniffled. "Hello?"

Then I heard it. A voice. A boy's voice. The same one that said goodnight to me, the same one that comforted me when I felt scared, the same one that I heard every day.

"I'm home."