John Corey Whaley

And, long after Clark had gone home, Solomon stayed up wondering if everyone falls in love with someone who can't love them back.

She believed in herself maybe more than other people believed in God or the devil or Heaven or Hell.

I'm sorry, Cullen. I really am. I know this sucks. But you're better off anyway. And you'll be fine. You needed me. Now someone else needs me.

_ Do they know? That you're gay?_ Why waste their time with it? It's not like it'll ever be an issue anyway._ Yeah, but, it's who you are, right?_ I guess so, _ he said. _ I don't really know how to be any way else._ When did you know?_ I was twelve, maybe. Something I just knew one day, even though I hadn't known it the day before._ So it's like that, huh? A feeling? Not just being into other dudes?_ Oh no, it's that too. Of course it's that. But it's more, I think. Not so much a feeling as a fact, like having blue eyes or brown hair. It's just maybe something you don't discover until you're ready to understand it better._ Like being straight, _ she said. Only we don't have to deal with all that closet bullshit._ Bingo, _ he said.

As smart as I am, it took a boy stuck in his house to teach me that sometimes it doesn't matter where you are at all. It only matters whos with you.

We've learned from this that death can hurt us. It can surprise us. It can scare us. It can keep us up a night. But we've also learned the things that death cannot do. It cannot crush our hopes. It cannot take away the love and support of our family and friends. It cannot make us lose our unending faith in world and in God. It has saddened us, but it will not prevail.

The thing to know about my brother was that even though he was fifteen, he looked to be about the same age as me. Only, I'm not sure if that was because he looked older or I looked younger. I like to think it was a healthy mixture of both.

He was an astronaut without a suit, but he was still breathing.

Not only had my brother disappeared, but--and bear with me here--a part of my very being had gone with him. Stories about us could, from them on, be told from only one perspective. Memories could be told but not shared.

Solomon had good days and he had bad days, but the good had far outnumbered the bad since Lisa and Clark had started coming around. Sometimes, though, they'd show up and he's look completely exhausted, drained of all his charm and moving in slow motion. They could do that to him__he attacks. Something about the physical response to panic can drain all the energy out of a person, and it doesn't matter what causes it or how long it lasts. What Solomon had was unforgiving and sneaky and as smart as any other illness. It was like a virus or cancer that would hide just long enough to fool him into thinking it was gone. And because it showed up when it damn well pleased, he'd learned to be honest about it, knowing that embarrassment only made it worse.

But at home, that same day he'd jumped into the fountain, he'd gotten so anxious, pacing around the living room listening to his parents try to calm him, that he suddenly just lost it completely and slapped his face. He immediately started crying, confused and guilty, looking up at his parents like he had no idea how it happened. And, really, that's the way it always was with the hitting. It would happen so fast, his body shaking to release the tension that built up from all the thoughts swirling through his mind and all the air he was having trouble breathing and all the loud beating of his own heart ringing in his ears. It had to get out and that was the path it chose. Slap. Instant relief.

If this were an indie movie, we'd start talking about the constellations," Solomon said, looking up at the stars.

You're like Lady MacBeth without the murder.""Thank you. You have no idea how much of a compliment that is to me.

I don't want to lie about who I am, even if it doesn't matter. It's who I am. It's part of me.

Watch it,' her mom snapped. 'Don't start a fight just because it's the easiest thing to do.