Born Again

Chapter eight

"Work is probably the best thing I could do right now," Thomas said. "Anything to get my mind off it."

"That's one of the reasons we run this place all nice and busylike," Newt said. "You get lazy, you get sad. Start givin' up. Plain and simple."

~~~

Thomas opened his eyes, the day after Chuck died. He got up, getting ready for school. Newt—dream Newt—was right. Their situations might be different but the same thought applied.

   He had to go to school, let the work take all his waking thoughts. If it didn't, he would crumble into despair.

So Thomas finished packing and left home way too early. Maybe he could do the homework that he'd been putting off.

   He wasn't surprised that Newt and Minho weren't there to walk with him but he was still disappointed. He didn't want to think about the previous day anymore.

~~~

"Mom!" Thomas screamed, bursting through the front door.

"Thomas?" Mom asked, running into the entry room. When she saw that he was crying, she pulled him into a tight hug. "What happened? Are you hurt?" She checked his face for injuries.

"It's Chuck," he sobbed. "We got ice cream. Then there was a drunk kid. He had a gun. He—" Thomas broke down again but Mom seemed to get the idea.

She held him close again, rubbing his back. "I'm so sorry honey. I'm so so sorry. Oh . . . I have to tell his mom."

   Thomas locked himself in his room when Mom left, ignoring the constant buzz from his phone. He didn't know who it was. It didn't matter. He couldn't talk to anybody. Especially not Newt or Minho. He didn't know what they'd say.

   So Thomas just laid in bed, trying not to think about anything. The tears had stopped but the sadness was still overwhelming.
   Just when Thomas thought he could work around the dreams he—

~~~

   "Tommy!"

   Thomas snapped out of his daze to see Newt waving his hand in front of his face.

   "Thought I'd lost you for a minute," Newt said with a smirk.

   Thomas grunted an apology, brushing past. "I've got homework to do. See you later, Newt."

   "You alright?" Newt asked, walking with him.

   "Yeah," He mumbled. "Fine."

   "You don't seem fine."

   "The dreams were right!" Thomas exclaimed, whirling around on his friend. "They're always right! Chuck's dead. He died. It's all my fault. I can't stop anything. I can't—" he stopped. He couldn't tell Newt about his fate. It hurt too much.

   Newt didn't respond for a few seconds, too shocked by his response. Then his voice softened. "What happened?"

   Thomas briefed him on the previous night, blinking back the tears. He couldn't break down. Not there.

   "Just because you took him for ice cream doesn't mean it's your fault," Newt assured him.

   "Yeah, but if I didn't, Chuck would still be alive," Thomas said, his voice breaking.

   Newt breathed a long sigh. "Maybe. But I know that if he were here." He gave a small smile. "He wouldn't want you to be sad. I knew that boy all of three days and I'd never seen anyone so full of joy."

   Thomas smiled politely but the words hurt his heart. Chuck deserved to be happy right now.

   "Alright?" Newt said, nudging his shoulder. "So don't mope around. Because if you do, then that means Chuck's life was for nothing and he wouldn't want that."

   Thomas looked at his friend, nodding slowly. "Okay, I hear you," he said. "But what do I do?"

   "Go to school," Newt answered. "Do your work. Remember Chuck and talk about all the good times you two had." He chuckled. "Speaking of, while we were at camp, Chuck had some glitter and—"

   The bell rang, cutting him off.

   "Never mind. I'll tell you later," Newt said. Then he turned back to Thomas. "Will you be alright?"

   Thomas took a shaky breath, nodding. "I—I think so. I'll try to be anyway."

   Newt patted him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. I'll tell Minho to lay off a bit. He told me he was spamming you last night."

   Thomas snorted. He checked his phone that morning to find 594 messages waiting for him. 593 of them were Minho's. One of them was Newt's. "Spamming is an understatement. But yeah, thanks Newt."

   "No problem," Newt said before walking inside.

   Thomas took a deep breath before following. Newt was right. He couldn't be sad. Chuck wouldn't want that.

   So when Teresa smiled at him in the halls, Thomas smiled back, determined to be okay. He had to. For Chuck.

~~~

Minho found him at lunch. He walked over and gave him a bear hug. It would've been a nice gesture if Thomas could breath.

"Minho," He croaked. "Can't . . . breath!"

"Sorry," Minho said, loosening his grip.

Now that Thomas could breathe, he hugged Minho back.

"Are you okay?" Minho asked, pulling back and looking at him concerned.

This time, Thomas didn't hesitate to nod. "I am actually."

Minho breathed, clearly relieved. "That's good," He said, sitting down. "Because I was going to give you my cookie if you weren't." He held up the cookie he'd packed to prove his point.

"Oh, a cookie!" Newt said, grabbing it and taking a bite. "Thanks Min."

"Hey, That was mine!" Minho whined.

Thomas laughed, which felt nice. He was glad to be happy again.

Newt grinned, handing half of the cookie to Thomas. "So you still up for coming to Minho's race this weekend?"

"I wasn't going to ask yet," Minho muttered. "And give me my cookie back!"

Thomas handed it back to his friend, but not before taking a bite. Minho shoved the rest in his mouth.

"But really," His friend said through a mouthful. "Can you come?"

Thomas thought about it for a moment. He didn't want to completely move on from Chuck yet. There was still a respectful time for mourning.

But yet he felt drawn to go. He had a feeling it would tie into his dreams somehow. After Chuck, he didn't know if that was a good thing.

Thomas shook off the thoughts. He wanted to go. He wanted to go for himself, not because the dreams were telling him to.

He smiled. "You can count on it."