CHAPTER 5

If I'd have been standing I would've fallen down. "How long did your dad talk to my mom before she died?" What else had she told him?

"I asked him the same question." Bryant shook his head. "Like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes." He plucked at the leather on the couch. "They talked a lot. My dad was trying anything to keep her awake and focused on him, instead of the pain. So they spent a long time just chatting about life. The other night he said he could tell what a good woman she was—and more importantly how much she loved her daughter. Cindy didn't dwell on anything negative. Only focused on how grateful she was to have been blessed by you. And how you gave her the will and strength and drive to go on."

I wiped at more tears. My headache was never going to go away. I was sure of it. Not after today.

Bryant still didn't look up at me. "My dad kind of rambled. It was like these memories of your mom's death came back to him I could tell it'd really affected him to be there in her final moments and learn that the earth was losing an incredible angel. He said she was beautiful, even with the mess of the car wreck he could still tell she was beautiful."

"She was," I whispered.

"She loved you."

"She did. I was loved. If I knew anything in my life, I knew I was loved. Cherished."

He nodded. And then wiped his eyes some more. "I'm sorry, Indy."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, junk happens to everyone, right? It's life. It's what life is all about. Bad things happening to people."

"Well, yeah, I guess. That's part of it, but you didn't mention the other part."

This time our gazes locked. "And what's that?"

"Life isn't only about the trials, it's about how you overcome them."

I flinched slightly and tried to look away, but couldn't. Something about his words ripped through me in a way I hadn't been pierced before. It was as if I was about to relearn something I knew, but kept hidden because it's easier to hide away in grief than to face life again. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Bryant tilted his head as he looked at me. He was seriously good with long soul-searching stares. It was like being hypnotized.

"What?" I asked, as I attempted to break this spell he had over me.

"Trials don't stop, they never will, it's how you learn from them, grow from them, and help others learn and grow too, that defines you as a person."

I still had no idea what he meant.

"You could choose to stay here hidden away and hate life, or you can choose to move forward and help others heal. To reach out in the community and become something to someone else. You're not alone. People die every day. It's kind of inevitable. However, you could help and grow from what happened to guaranteeing others can move on too."

"So are you saying I'm lost here?"

"I'd say you're pretty angry at life right now. I don't know who that girl is that my dad talked about five years ago—that one your mom told him all about. I don't see her."

"It's because she's dead! She died when my mom died." Suddenly I'd had enough of Bryant Bailey. "You can go now, alright? Just leave." I stood up. I'd heard enough. I was sick of his prying and meddling and making all this pain come back. What was he anyway? "You're a freaking kid like me Bryant. You're not some therapist, you're

just a guy who's decided all this stuff about me and thinks you can help me! Well you can't. So just go!"

"Indy, wait." He stood up. "I know this is hard to take in all at once. I know with my dad's story and all that. I know. I'm sorry. I can slow down. I only wanted to help, that's all."

"I don't need help! Can't you see that? I'm perfectly fine on my own. In fact if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be a crying mess anyway. Just go away and leave me be."

"Every instinct of my mine says to stay right here and not leave."

"Your instincts need to get a reality check. This isn't about you Bryant, this is about me. I've been saying the same thing and you're not listening."

"If I leave now I may never get this close again."

What in the "Oh yes, you're right. We're done. This closeness thing you're trying to create is so over. That was burnt about three minutes ago when you were trying to evaluate my life. My life. Okay? It's MINE. Get that through your head. I'm not some mutant who needs help right now. You know what I need? I need to breathe and walk and get through high school and qualify for some college somewhere so I can get a real job and get myself out of this house and on my own where I can do whatever I…

Really?" I put my hands on my hips.

He nodded and looked away. "My mom died when I was ten too. Almost a year before yours did."

What? I sat down. All at once everything stopped.

A strange humming feeling came over me. It was intense and strong and like I wasn't really connecting with my body at the moment-or more importantly like every fiber of my being was waiting and willing to  understand what had just happened.

He talked quietly and slowly. "I know that anger. I know that lost feeling. I know that shock. What I don't want you to go through is the need to end your life too."

My head jerked up. How did he know? I blinked and then blinked again. And if I thought I'd cried before, this was an all-new gut-wrenching experience. This time I cried for the guy across from me. The happy, totally hot, soccer star of our school. The guy everyone knew and loved.

The guy the girls stupidly swooned over. He had a secret. He had my secret. He had wanted to die too. And it connected us greater than anything ever had before.

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