We had different lives, but I never forgot who he was. What he was. How could I? When he’d been the one to hold my hand as I cried after I overheard the phone call that changed everything. He’d been the one that helped me with my homework. He’d been the one that buried me in sand at the beach. He’d been there to pick me up from juvie. He’d made my Halloween costumes. He’d bought me Mcdonald’s when my lunch got stolen. He’d patched up my bloody knuckles, my black eyes. He’d been the one that held my hand as he cried because he had to leave—and he didn’t want me to know. He wasn’t here now, but
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