What Death Did

 “Ron! Hurry up!” Her voice was gentle like falling snow.

We rode our bikes across the long stretch of tar. Her laugh was the song of a finch. Her auburn hair shone, and her emerald eyes glowed brightly. Her presence was so enchanting that I couldn’t resist giving her a toothy grin. The pedestrian light changed orange. I sped up. Suddenly, a loud crash emitted behind me. A shriek. A screech of brakes. A crowd of frantic voices. I was scared to look. My Adam’s apple bobbed in my throat. I slowly turned. My scream was hardly swallowed. She was lying on the road, immobile. Her body; a mangled mess. My lungs were obstructed. My mind was compressed. I was sinking.

My eyes flew open.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. I was shaking uncontrollably. My parents were grumbling next door. I lay listening to my father’s coarse breaths and my mother’s gasping sobs. They never interacted with me after the accident. Lindsey was everything. She was the life and soul of the Tutman’s. But death had robbed her from us. Her demise had left a gaping hole in my heavy heart. Light passed by my angled window. Marvel posters lined the walls, their characters in a heroic pose, surveying my dark room. I wished I could escape- but it was impossible. It was my reality.

School. I detested it. Children poked their noses into my business. Worse still, every Year 8 girl looked gorgeous like Lindsey. I pulled on my dull outfit, matching my hair. Since Lindsey had died, I had only worn black. My deep blue eyes had lost their sparkle. They stared blankly at me in the mirror. Sometimes, I had hoped that she wasn’t gone- that it was a nightmare. Silently, I made my way through the ghostly house and slipped through the door. I trudged along the damp path. I was heading towards Bourke High. Whilst wallowing in my maddening misery, I was intercepted. I raised my head to see a scraggly, blonde boy with an impish smile and colourful clothes.

 “Hiya!” He had a squeaky, annoying voice.

The stranger extended a sticky hand and continued, “I’m Noah Barjello. I’m in your class. I thought you could do with some company. You’re Ron Tutman, right?”

I was speechless. The words sank in, and I nodded.

 “You wanna walk with me?” he asked enthusiastically.

I had no other choice. I dragged my feet beside Noah. I didn’t care who he was or what he was badgering on about. I should’ve felt comforted that somebody had taken the time to walk with me. But I was an angry bear. Protective of myself. Noah’s intentions may have been good, but I wouldn’t tolerate the scrawny, buoyant busybody!

School was a nightmare. Noah Barjello talked all day. I knew that he wanted to help me, but I didn’t need him. He didn’t understand what it was like losing your only sister. He had six siblings and wouldn’t feel the pain if one of them passed away. I had had another hellish dream and was dreading the day ahead.

Noah joined me, huffing and puffing like an overweight dragon. He was wearing a canary yellow poncho and his stringy hair was flopping about.

 “Hi! How are you?” Noah asked, bouncing around.

I didn’t answer. I continued to stare at the path, as though it would say something for me.

 “Bit windy,” he commented, refusing to let my rudeness affect him.

As if on cue, the wind wailed wistfully, mirroring my lonely soul.

Sighing, Noah solemnly said to me, “Ron, I’m sorry about your sister’s death. But, mate, you can’t take out your grief negatively on me.”

He said it without hate, but I couldn’t refrain from glaring at him with utter dislike.

 “How dare you!” I spat, shivering. “You don’t know what it’s like losing someone so close!” I was a raging, lava spewing volcano. “She’s gone. Forever. Lindsey Tutman is dead!”

My words echoed. ‘Gone.’ ‘Dead.’ They whispered in my mind like trees swaying. Realisation hit me. She wouldn’t come back. I stumbled away, tears blinding me.

I climbed the old fig tree and wept. I cried an ocean. Lindsey was gone. My family had fallen apart. I had lost a friend. It hurt. It was agony to see Noah’s upset face. Someone- the only person- had tried to reach out to me, but I had ignored them. Despairingly, I wiped my running nose on my rugged sleeve. I had to get Noah back.

I decided to wait in the tree until school ended for the day. The path running past its roots led to 34 Becker Street, the Barjello home. I sat stiffly on the sturdy branches for about 100 years, before Noah lumbered along the trail. Aiming carefully, I threw a squishy fig at him. It splat on his head with a disgusting ‘squelch.’

“OI!” Noah yelled. He looked up and saw me grinning shiftily down at him. He gave me a cold scowl, before he turned on heel and sauntered away. My smile faded.

Defeated, I called out desperately, “Noah! I’m sorry! Please forgive me!”

Noah whipped around. I jumped from the tree.

He stared at me intently. I held my breath. He scuffed his shoes in the dirt.

“It’s alright,” he said.

I beamed broadly. “I was scared, angry, and afraid. I honestly value your friendship. Sorry about the fig. I’m not known for starting conversations.”

“Mate, all good. I’ve never had a real friend before,” Noah said, reflecting.

My heart soared. I hugged him close, feeling warmth surge through my veins.

We jogged off together laughing, elated.

I snuggled into my bed. I had swum to the furthest depths of the ocean. Explored the unknown. Peeled back my personality, layer after layer. I had found my true wish. I had wanted friendship. I had a dream so deep, I didn’t even know it was there. But Noah had.

I drifted off to sleep and dreamt peacefully. I smiled. It would be okay.