“Langston!” I shout, using his name instead of killer.
I run across the street, slipping between the two police cars that have arrived so far. I hear more approaching sirens in the distance.
I make it across the street. The front door is open. I should wait outside, but I can’t.
I run up the uneven stairs full of cracks. I know each crack by heart, which makes it easy to avoid hurting my bare feet as I run.
Then I’m inside the small house already filled with too many people.
Three police officers.
Langston’s father.
I don’t see Langston.
“Langston!” I shout even though I shouldn’t. I should blend into the shadows for as long as I can before being noticed. As soon as the police officers notice me, they’ll escort me outside, and then I won’t know anything.
The female officer turns at the sound of my small voice. Her lips thin in disappointment as she walks over to me. She squats down so she is eye level with me.
“I’m so sorry,” she starts.
“No,” I whisper. “He can’t be dead.”
I look past her, searching for the boy—the only one in my life who matters, who will ever matter.
She shakes her head.
What does that shake mean?
“Your mother—she didn’t make it. She’s in heaven,” the officer says, putting her hands on my shoulders to comfort me.
I exhale a breath.
I should cry, show some emotion. This woman thinks I’m Mrs. Pearce’s daughter, that I just lost my mother. She’ll let me stay with Langston if I cry.
So that’s what I do. I cry like I just lost a caring mother, instead of being relieved that my best friend is still alive.
The woman pulls me into a hug. That’s when I spot him, and my heartbeat settles.
Langston is standing in shorts and no shirt, revealing his too-thin frame. His hair is a shabby mess on top of his head, and he’s staring down at something.
His mother.
My heart breaks for him. He wasn’t that close to her, but his mom was the only source of affection or love he got at home.
Now it will be just him and his father.
I keep the crying up, and Langston eventually looks at me. He laughs quietly when he sees my dramatic acting.
Finally, the woman releases me.
“I want to go see my brother.”
“Of course, sweetie. You two should be together.”
I walk over to Langston with tears still dripping out of my eyes.
“You’re a terrible actress,” he says teasingly when I walk over.
I wipe my tears on the back of my T-shirt. “I fooled her, so I can’t be that bad.”
He grins.
And then we link our hands. “Thank you,” he says.
“For what?” I frown, not understanding why he’s thanking me.
“For crying, even though you hate it, so you can be here with me.”
I squeeze his hand. I’m beginning to think I’d do anything for this boy. Fake crying so I can hold his hand while he mourns his mother barely touches the surface of what I’d do.
3
Langston
Today should be the worst day of my life.
I’m burying my mother today.
Today is the worst day of my life, but not because today is my mother’s funeral.
Today is the worst day of my life because of what I’m going to have to tell Liesel.
I’m wearing an oversized suit my father got at Goodwill and sitting in the front pew of the church next to my father.
There are a dozen or so people sitting behind us as the preacher talks. I don’t listen. All I can think about is what I’m going to say to Liesel.
How am I going to break the news?
I can’t even believe it myself.
I’m thankful for the time in the church. At first, I thought I wanted Liesel sitting next to me. Right now, I couldn’t be happier that my father didn’t allow it and that she’s sitting three pews back. As long as we aren’t together, I don’t have to tell her.
Too soon, the funeral ends. The preacher stops talking, and my father and I stand as we follow the casket out of the church. The cemetery is next to the church, so we don’t have to drive anywhere. We just walk to her grave with the small congregation of people behind us. I don’t look back even though I can feel Liesel’s stare, trying to reach out and comfort me.
I’m not the one who needs comfort, though.
Time moves too fast.
The preacher speaks more words.
My mother’s casket is lowered into the ground.
And just like that—it’s over.
My father gives me a stern look. “I expect you home in an hour.”
I nod. He walks to the car and drives off.
A few people approach me, giving me their condolences.
I just stand, staring at my mother’s gravestone like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Reading my mother’s name, dates of birth and death, and the words ‘Beloved mother and wife’ over and over to avoid what comes next.
Liesel doesn’t speak. She just takes my hand like she did in the house three days ago when I woke to find my mother had overdosed on fentanyl.
I already know that isn’t true. My father killed her. He slipped her the extra pills. He wanted her gone, so he got rid of her.
And then I feel something thorny being pushed in my other hand. I look down and see that Liesel has shoved a single rose-like flower into my hand.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t afford more, but I think your mom would have liked it,” she says.
I stare at the flower, similar to a rose but not. It’s pretty—my mother would have liked it.
I look up at my mother’s grave and then all the others around it. The surrounding graves have flowers. My mother’s is bare.
The bastard didn’t even spend money on flowers!
I feel the tear slipping down my cheek. I’ll cry waterfalls later when I’m alone in the house. Right now, the single tear is enough.
I step forward, and Liesel steps right with me. Together we place the single flower at the base of my mother’s grave.
“Goodbye, Mom,” I whisper, keeping my tears and pain inside the best that I can.
Liesel pulls me into a hug. She isn’t one for emotion. She’s not a hugger, but in this moment, she is.
The embrace only makes me sob harder until there is snot running down my face and onto the shoulder of her black dress.
“I’m sorry.” I let go of her as I suck the snot back in and try to compose myself. There are more important things to worry about than the loss of my mother right now.
Liesel’s eyes flick right then left over my face. “What is it?”
How does she always know when something is wrong with me?
“We’re moving,” I spit out before I lose my nerve.
Her mouth falls, and tears spring into her eyes for the first time.
“But…your mom just died.”
“Dad’s remarrying some rich woman.”
“Oh.”
I don’t have to tell Liesel what that means. I don’t have to tell her that my father killed my mother. She can put the pieces together as easily as I did.
“He’ll pay for this. Someday, he’ll pay,” Liesel says, her voice lower and grittier than before.