Goodbye, Evan

18

It's sunny when we wake up, which just seems like an insult to everything.

It's not a funeral but I still wear the darkest of the clothes Theo brought me: a dark blue button-down and the matching beanie, my black leather jacket, black jeans and dark blue trainers.

Georgia and I wait for him by the front door in our usual silence. He comes down the stairs at ten, dressed in black jeans and a matching hoodie and a soft brown t-shirt that brings out the touches of dark gold in his eyes. Georgia heads out silently after giving him a quick, sad smile, and I wait for Theo to put on his shoes.

The landline starts to ring as we step onto the porch, but Theo just slams the door and locks it behind him. It is at least an hour-long walk through the town and out the other side. Georgia strides ahead, her heels tapping on the pavement,

while Theo and I walk behind her sharing earphones and almost-but-not-quite holding hands.

As soon as I see the church steeple, I realize that I've been here before. And after that, it's a struggle to continue walking. But I do it or him.

(And a little bit for me, too, because it's never let me here before.)

Theo weaves through the graves like he's walked the path a thousand times - which he probably has - and I stick close to him in case I go wondering towards a part of my history.

We come to a stop in front of a row of near-identical pale grey gravestones. Theo gives us a look. I nod, turn my back on him and start to walk away with Georgia at my side, making sure to stay away from the left side of the graveyard. When I glance back at him, he's sitting with his back resting against what I assume is his mother's headstone, even though the name is obscured. (It only just occurs to me that I don't know Theo's surname.)

His dark eyes are pinned up to the sky and even from here I can see him blinking heavily. The urge to return to him is almost painful but I respect his wishes.

"I'm glad you're here," Georgia says suddenly, snapping me out of my stupor.

I glance over at her. She's standing just behind me, staring at one of the stained glass windows of the church. I look at her.

"Theo," Georgia continues, still not looking at me. I expect her to sound distant, confused, but her voice is strong. She seems determined to say her bit. "He was miserable before you came. He could barely get out of bed, his grades were low - hell, he barely even ate." She rubs her palms violently under her eyes and her sun-kissed skin comes back blackened with smudged eyeliner. "I tried to help him... but it wasn't the same. It killed me to see Amana's child like that. To see a kid I've come to love like my little brother so messed."

Shaking her head, she glances at me with misted eyes. "I'm not saying you're a cure-all for depression, but he eats like a horse now." She laughs snottily and wipes her nose.

"I think he just needs somebody his age who cares," she says after a long pause. "Somebody who can maybe even love him - and

don't take it like I'm pressuring you to. But it's clear you care about him a lot, and I'm glad that you do."

I look over at Theo.

(We haven't had much time. But if I love anybody or anything, it's him.)

I look over at the church, at the way the light makes the panes of berry-coloured glass shine the same way it does my skin.

(But they always said this kind of loving was wrong.)