Chapter 2

Dylan forced his eyes open, his vision too blurry to see his own hand. A few feet away, a green lit monitor came into focus. A needle tugged at his forearm. Hospital. After a few seconds, his vision adjusted and the outline of a figure sleeping in the reclining chair came into view; the rhythmic, droning snore, a distinct clue to their identity.

Spotting a straw, he bit half the wrapper into his mouth and formed a deadly, compact spitball. Like a seasoned blow-gun hunter, he took aim at the shadowy figure’s head. -Phooot-

“Gack-” Norm Wilder sprang from the recliner, hacking and gagging. “Bug!”

“Norm, chill! It’s me!” Dylan chuckled. “Dude, I wish I had a camera. Perfect bull’s-eye.”

“You suck. I just fell asleep.” Norm spit the wad out and smiled, happy to see his friend. “Aside from your total suckness… I’m just glad you’re awake. We thought you died!”

“Nope, you’re stuck with me. We got a lot of living left to-” Dylan stopped, the memory of the day returning.

“You, ok?” Norm asked in the way best friends do.

“Max.” Dylan’s eyelids tightened.

“I know. I’m gonna miss him, too.” Norm placed a reassuring hand on Dylan’s shoulder. He had known Max since he met Dylan and thought of him as his own surrogate grandfather.

“I really don’t know what I’m gonna do without him.” Dylan choked, fighting the urge to cry. “I mean, why Max? Other families have just perfect little lives. Why does everything we have get taken away?”

“I feel that way too, sometimes.” A tear rolled down Norm’s cheek. “It sucks. Death sucks.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“My mom? I didn’t. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. And my dad makes it worse. But you were there for me. Max and Nan, too. I mean, I practically lived at your house. Still kinda do.”

“Always seems to be us two, no matter what.” Dylan straightened himself. "I guess that means God hates us.”

“I like to think he just has a sense of humor.” They fist bumped as they did ritually.

The two boys had been neighbors and friends since they were learning to walk. And since both were only children, they formed a bond more like brothers than friends, yet were an odd duo. Dylan was tall, wiry, with shaggy, blond hair that hung over sharp, wide-set blue eyes and a flock of freckles dotting his high, angular cheekbones and pointed nose.

Norm was stockier, with thick limbs. His round face and full cheeks gave him a jovial appearance, while his inquisitive brown eyes appeared magnified behind his glasses. He wore his wavy brown hair tight to avoid the curls, making his head look like a light bulb. The other kids in the neighborhood called them spaghetti and meatball. So long as they were together, they never cared what anyone said.

“Seriously, I’m just glad you’re okay. Besides, you can’t die before you get to see real, live boobs.” Norm cupped his hands in a juggling motion.

“The only reason you’ve seen’em is ‘cause you walked in on your cousin at their pool house.”

“Details. It was the greatest day of my life. Anyway, everyone at school knows you got struck by lightning, so maybe they’ll be some girls interested in a shocking good time.” Norm vibrated, jiggling the pudge in his mid-section.

“Lightning?” Dylan blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? I didn’t get hit by lightning.”

“Yeah, you did. Everyone saw it hit right where we found you.”

“Norm, it wasn’t lightning. It was the tree! The huge black tree.” Dylan sat upright in the bed. “Didn’t anyone see it?”

“There’s a lotta trees back there, dude.”

“No. This tree was like-I don’t know. It was crazy looking. Like out of a horror flick.”

“Dylan,” Norm’s tone serious. “I found you. You were face down with steam pouring off you. Everyone saw the lightning. And… uh, I didn’t see any weird tree.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“I’m telling you, there was this huge black tree. And a wall! Look! I busted my leg up on it. It probably needed stitches.” Dylan confidently lifted his gown, revealing a perfectly healthy leg, no cuts or stitches. “I’m telling you. My leg was totally gashed, bleeding everywhere! I saw it!”

“You had a bad week, man. Maybe the lightning erased your memory or something.”

“I didn’t get hit by lightning!” Dylan insisted, his face twisting, more annoyed. “I tripped over the wall and there’s this shiny black tree. I’ve been down that path a thousand times and never saw it before, but I swear it was there!”

“I believe you’re telling me what you think you saw, but Dylan, you had a total meltdown at the funeral. You freaked out and went tearing into the woods. Maybe you were a little bit off?”

“I was upset about Max, not crazy! It was real-” A rush of nausea flooded Dylan, forcing him to lie back on the bed.

“Look,” empathy washed over Norm’s face. “When my mom died, I couldn’t make sense of anything. I saw her in my dreams and woke up thinking they were real. I’d actually think she was there, but she never was.”

“That’s not what’s happening to me. Just come there with me when I get out. Please.”

“Fine. But, Dylan, I’m telling you, there was no black tree and definitely no wall.”

“Where’s my clothes?” Dylan sprang up in bed.

“Whoa, dude! You been out for three days, you got a needle in your arm and if you didn’t look yet, you’ve got a tube comin’ outta your wiener.”

Dylan reached between his legs to find the tube leading to a urine-filled bag hanging on his bed rail. He lifted the sheets, his face contorting in shock. “What the hell? There’s a tube… in my-” Dylan convulsed and covered his mouth. “I’m gonna puke.”

“They couldn’t let you pee in the bed.” Norm laughed. “Anyway, the doc said you’re ok, but he’s kind of surprised.”

“Why?” Dylan swallowed hard and turned away, avoiding any possible sight of the invasive ween-tube.

“He said you were perfect, almost too perfect.”

“How could I be too perfect?”

Norm shrugged. “They wanted to run more tests, but Nan wouldn’t let’em.”

“Nan!” Dylan slapped his forehead. “Oh, my god! I’m such a loser. I can’t believe what I did to her.”

“Relax, she’s not even mad. And everyone there- I mean seriously, it’s always, Dylan is such a nice boy.” Norm rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve seen your search history. Anyway, she told everyone that you would feel worse about it than anyone. And she was right.”

“I have to talk to her. Like now!” Max and Nan raised Dylan to be selfless, to care about the people he loved because they were the most important part of life. It came naturally to him; he was an old soul. “I gotta see her.” He ripped the sheets back, exposing the catheter tube again, and immediately covered himself. “Ok, I hate this thing!”

“Relax. You’re gonna have a heart attack.”

“Where is she?”

“She went home a while ago, but she’s been here all day, every day, until visiting hours end.”

Dylan looked at the clock, then curiously at Norm. “It’s after midnight. What are you still doing here?”

A mischievous smile stretched across Norm’s puffy cheeks. “I couldn’t leave Mr. Weiner-tube, so I got the nurse’s rounds down and hide in the bathroom whenever they check on you.”

“And you think I’m crazy? What about your dad?”

“One of the nurses caught me the other night. I told her my dad was drunk and wouldn’t pick up the phone. She tried anyway. He actually answered and yelled at her, so she let me stay. He doesn’t care.”

“Sorry, man. Nan and Max always said you can come live with us.”

“I know, I just keep hoping he’ll turn back into the uptight guy he was before my mom died instead of the pissed off drunk he is now. Anyway, I was gonna stay, but since I know you’re okay, I think I’ll sneak home and sleep in my bed.”

“You sure? I’ll call the nurse for a blanket.” Dylan looked around for a call button.

“Thanks, man, but I’m gonna head home.” Norm slipped into his sneakers. “Nothing ever happens around here, anyway.”

Dylan nodded. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Cool.” Norm fist bumped Dylan and headed for the door. “I’ll bring your books home. Finals start-.”

“Finals!” Dylan’s eyes bugged with a fresh wave of panic.

“Dude, chill out.” Norm raised his hands. “You got A’s in everything. You’ll be fine.”

“You’re probably right.” Dylan settled himself.

“Of course, I am. Just get some rest.” Norm waved and shut the door halfway, his anti-stealth sneakers squeaking down the hall, the sound fading into the distance.

Alone again. Dylan hated being alone. But this was different. Going home would mean facing the reality his grandfather was gone. Max had always been Dylan’s safety net, his fountain of wisdom and the example of how to live.

While Nan loved him as much as any parent could, she was older and understood all too well death is a part of life. But this wasn’t the plan. The anxiety of being alone rolled in Dylan’s overactive mind. A lot of thirteen-year-olds didn’t care about things beyond the material items or popularity at school, but Dylan lost a lot of sleep worrying about the things he couldn’t control. And right now, he had zero control.

No stranger to loss, Dylan held his breath, rehashing the lowlights of his life. His mother left when he was an infant. They said she was young, confused, but she loved him. To Dylan, it was thirteen years later, and she never came to see him. Still, there was a child’s hope he would meet her someday, but nothing hurt to the extent of losing his father did.

Dylan’s father, Jack, was a great dad, but like many single parents, he worked long hours. Young and ambitious, Jack started a trucking business. He was coming home from a haul on Halloween when his eighteen-wheeler slid off a bridge and into a river. Dylan was three years old, waiting by the window to go trick-or-treating, when the phone rang. After the call, Max took Dylan out to collect his treats. He didn’t tell Dylan until the next morning. He never forgot the moment or dressed up to go trick-or-treating again. Dylan found comfort thinking about his dad and even had pretend father-son conversations when he was alone. The loss was hard, but with Max and Nan, he found his own happiness.

Today was different. The dam broke free. The world had collapsed. The sky had fallen with Dylan in between. Nothing, but nothing, could be worse than losing Max.

Dylan watched as the fluid dripping from the plastic IV bag, through a clear tube and into his vein. A silent lullaby. As the drips fell, so did his eyelids. Gentle waves washed over his thoughts, casting Dylan adrift into a sea of dreams.