Eight

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Outside the hospital, Pete calls his brother.

"Andrew," he says. "Do you know what happened?"

I've stopped crying on the outside but I'm still crying on the inside.

"Yeah," Pete says to Andrew. "No, he's..."

Pete looks over at me, then away from me.

Lowering his voice, he says: "He's dead. Because his brother was in my group. Yeah, I'm with him now. The hospital. God, I'm just trying to help him. Fine. Yeah, I'm coming."

He hangs up and mutters something under his breath, before putting his phone back in his pocket. Pete leads me back to his apartment block. The walk is long – at least, it feels long – and awkward. Pete tries to make conversation, but I'm too heartbroken to talk.

"Hell of a day, huh?" he says.

I nod but say nothing.

"The OCK meet-ups can get crazy, but no one's ever...died before."

Again, I say nothing.

"And I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"It's fine," I say quietly.

Pete opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it.

When we reach Pete and Andrew's apartment door, Pete turns to me.

"I just wanna say, Andrew can seem a little...tough at first. But he won't care if you're here. He'll just leave you alone. So, don't mind him."

"Okay," I say.

Pete unlocks the apartment door and we step inside.

Andrew comes over to us.

"Who's this?" he asks, looking me up and down.

"Patrick Stump," snaps Pete, sounding annoyed. "The brother of the guy who just, you know, died."

"Oh..." He shifts his weight from his left foot to his right foot awkwardly. "I'm sorry about what happened. Nothing like that has ever happened at an OCK meet-up before."

I shrug.

"So, Patrick, you can sleep on the couch," says Pete, pointing to the dusty couch in the middle of the lounge. "It's kinda uncomfortable, though."

"Wait," says Andrew loudly. "Is he staying here?"

"Yeah, of course," replies Pete. "Patrick lived in his brother's apartment, but his brother's gone, so he has nowhere to live but here."

Andrew looks me up and down again.

"I didn't know you were gonna bring home another mouth to feed, little brother."

"I didn't know you gave a shit about anything I do."

There's an awkward pause.

"Whatever," Andrew shrugs.

He leaves the room and slams the door behind him. When he's gone, Pete suddenly perks up.

"So, do you want something to eat?"

"No thanks," I say, shaking my head.

"You sure?"

I nod. "I think I'll just go to bed."

Pete sighs. "Of course. Sorry. You probably just want to sleep, don't you?"

I nod again.

We exchange a miniscule smile. I didn't even know I was capable of smiling today, but I guess I am. Suddenly I remember something.

"Wait," I say. "My stuff is still in Kevin's apartment."

Just saying his name causes me to get a lump in my throat.

"I'll get your stuff," replies Pete. "You're tired, it's been a long day. Do you have a key?"

I'm about say no, but then I remember the key that Kevin gave me. I shove my fingers into my pocket and feel the metal of the key. A lone tear escapes from my eye as I take the key out my pocket. It reminds me of Kevin - when he gave me this key, there was so much excitement about it. So much promise. We were going to live together and be happy...

Wiping the lone tear away, I give Pete the key and tell him the address.

"Are you sure you wanna go out again?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's no trouble," smiles Pete. "Use my bed, it's more comfortable. Just get some sleep. We've got school tomorrow." Suddenly he gasps. "Shit, do you even want to go to school tomorrow?"

"Yes," I say instantly. Staying in an apartment all day with Andrew does not sound very appealing to me.

"But you need time to grieve..."

"I'll grieve at school. I want to go to school."

Pete gives me a questioning look, but says, "Okay. Well, I'll be back soon. Go get some sleep, Patrick."

I nod and make my way to Pete's room. I slip my shoes off and collapse onto Pete's bed. The sadness hits me like a tsunami, and I start crying again. Today was even worse than any of the awful days spent with Mom.

I'm not sure how much more grief I can take.    


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