Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“You have your uncle Brian.”
Who was going to raise me now. He was all right. I knew he was a good guy. He’d never been married, didn’t have kids, and as far as I knew, never wanted them. He was nice enough but didn’t talk too much, kept to himself. My mama used to tell my daddy she thought Uncle Brian was sad, but Dad just said Uncle Brian didn’t like to talk about his feelings and that he was fine. Lots of adults didn’t think men should talk about their feelings, I’d noticed. I didn’t understand why we shouldn’t.
“You have me,” Jasper added when I didn’t reply.
I froze when he reached up and began wiping the tears and dirt from my face. I held my breath because he’d never done something like this before, and I didn’t know what he was doing. His thumb was slightly rough, but he used it gently, like I was fragile, this thing he wanted to protect and do anything not to break. There was a voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t like this, that it made me weak, and I thought maybe it would have if it were anyone but Jasper. I didn’t have to be embarrassed of anything with him.
He kept touching my face, one cheek, then the other, and when more tears sneaked out, he fought them off for me too. I watched him the whole time, even when he was blurry and swimming in my vision. Eventually it cleared, like he was the sun breaking through my rain clouds, and the tears dried up.
“I hate cryin’.”
“There’s no shame in it. Your family died.”
But would there be shame in it if they hadn’t? I didn’t know if that was what he meant.
I held my breath again when Jasper scooted close to me, when he slid his arm through mine. My chest hurt, but I didn’t let myself breathe until I rested my head on his shoulder, and he didn’t tell me to move it or push me away. Like always, I was safe with him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Me too,” I replied, knowing he meant he was sorry they died.
“I’ll always be here for you, though. We’ll be best friends forever. I know it’s not the same, but it’s somethin’.”
“It’s perfect.” I hoped that didn’t sound weird. I just didn’t know what I’d do without him. He said he would always be there, and he would be; he was. Every important moment I could remember, good or bad, Jasper was there, just like I’d always be there for him. I didn’t know how much time passed when I said, “I need to go…to the funeral…but I don’t want to wear this suit.”
“Then we won’t wear one. Your mama wouldn’t care about that. I think it’s silly to dress up for funerals anyway.”
“Me too.” I chuckled for the first time since the police officer came to my house with Uncle Brian to tell me what happened.
Jasper stood and held his hand out for me. The sun shined behind him, looking like it was borrowing Jasper’s glow. I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet, and then we let go and walked back to his house.
We both changed into jeans and T-shirts. Ms. Finch didn’t look happy about it, but she just shook her head, called Uncle Brian, and told him I’d come to the funeral with them. I figured he probably appreciated that, and that way, he wouldn’t have to see me cry and try to console me. He did try, but it was like he didn’t know how.
Jasper stayed by my side the whole day—at the church, when they were lowered into the ground, when I stayed by the graves until long after everyone left.
The reception was at Jasper’s house. His mama said she would host it, which Uncle Brian had been grateful for. Everyone kept trying to talk to me and tell me they were sorry. When they didn’t know I was around, I’d hear them talk about me, poor Sutton Manning who lost his whole family and had to live with his uncle who didn’t know anything about raising a kid.
“Sorry about your mama,” Sammy Joe, Jasper’s cousin, said.
“Thanks. I gotta go.” I was tired of talking about it, of being reminded I was alone, so I went to Jasper’s room, curled up in his bed, and fell asleep. I didn’t wake up until the middle of the night, the room dark around me, Jasper’s warmth in the bed beside me.
When something brushed against my pinky, I realized our hands were touching. In his sleep, he hooked his with mine, and neither of us let go.
Jasper
Eighteen years old
The center snapped the football to me. I caught it, danced around on the balls of my feet as the guys in front of me blocked the other team. I knew exactly whom I was looking for, whom I wanted to throw the football to on the final play of our final high school football game.