Holden shifted restlessly on his bed. His father had promised that they’d go see Allie again tomorrow, and he wanted to show his little brother the new story DB had written. Allie had always liked reading DB’s stories together with him, and Holden wanted to do everything he could to make Allie feel better. Ever since he’d gotten sick, Allie always seemed tired and worn, even if his smile was still intact. Everyone had seemed tired and worn since Allie had gotten sick, in fact. Except Phoebe, that is, but she was too young to understand. Holden...well, Holden understood. Allie was sick, and there was a good chance he wouldn’t get better, but Holden knew better. Allie was always all sunshine and happiness, and surely someone so good wouldn’t be taken away. Holden had faith that God wouldn’t allow it.

“Holden? Are you still awake?” His mother poked her head in, her face lined and the skin underneath her eyes stained with shadows. Her cheeks were hollow, her hair limp, and her eyes missing the fond shine that she had always had before when she looked at her children. Holden often wondered if perhaps his mother was sick, too.
“We’re going to see Allie tomorrow, right? Dad said we’re going to see Allie tomorrow. In the hospital.” His mother’s shoulders drooped a bit, as if in defeat, before she forced a smile to her face and nodded.
“Yes, we’re going to see Allie tomorrow.” She turned and wandered down the hall, not even bothering to insist that he go to bed. Before Allie had gotten sick, she had always made sure the four of them were in bed at what she deemed a ‘reasonable hour’, but ever since, she just got this pained expression on her face whenever she looked at them. DB said it was because she was worried one of them would get sick, too. Holden wondered if perhaps when she looked at them, all she could see was Allie.
Holden laid back against his pillows and stared at his ceiling. Of course, DB still looked like DB, and Phoebe looked like Phoebe, and Holden looked like Holden, so it was silly to think she saw Allie’s face when she looked at theirs. But sometimes, when he really missed Allie, when he started to doubt he would ever get better, all he could see was his little brother. Everything reminded him of Allie, from the stray baseball in the front yard to the way Phoebe ate her dinner. Sometimes it scared him. Other times, it just made him sad. Holden sighed and rolled onto his side. He’d go see Allie tomorrow, and read DB’s story with him, and maybe the doctors would say that Allie was improving. A small smile inched across his face before he fell asleep.

“Holden!” Holden scrunched his nose and wiggled his toes, before rolling over and trying to fall back asleep. “Holden! Holden, wake up!” Sighing, he rolled back over onto his back and sat up, blinking blearily at the sight before him. DB stood there in his pajamas, looking worried and confused.
“DB?”
“C’mon, Holden, Mom and Dad want to see us.”
“What time is it? It’s still dark out. DB? What’s going on?” DB just gave him an anxious look and hurried out, saying to come down to the living room. Holden shuffled out of bed with a yawn and stumbled his way down, the lights in the hall blinding him after the darkness of his bedroom. He found DB already sitting in the living room, his parents huddled together in front of the fireplace. His mother was crying. Warning bells started ringing in his head.
“Holden?” His mother sniffled. “Come in and sit down, sweetie.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just sit down and we’ll explain,” she said gently.
“Mom? What’s going on? Dad?”
“Just sit down, Holden!” his father snapped. His mother whimpered slightly and sank onto the settee, her hand pressed to her chest, tears streaming from her red-rimmed, puffy eyes. His mother wasn’t beautiful when she cried, Holden decided. Not like the movies. Not like those actresses. Actresses were still pretty when they cried, the actors still handsome. His mother was pasty white and snotty and her eyes puffed up, her entire body trembling weakly. She was ugly when she cried. It made Holden sad and tired. Holden sat down next to DB, who was staring intently at his hands.
“What’s going on?” he repeated.
“Boys, you know that Allie has...had been unwell for a while,” their father started, and his mother launched into a new round of loud, messy sobs. “He’s...that is, the doctors called and...well, Allie has...passed.” Silence. The only sounds he could hear were the rushing in his ears and his mother’s wails. DB stared at their father for a long moment, stunned, before his face crumpled and he started to cry, too. It felt like a sucker punch. DB never cried. He hadn’t even cried when he’d fallen out of that tree and sprained his ankle a couple of years ago, when Holden was ten and Allie was eight.
Passed. The word echoed in his head, twisting and turning and going in circles, making him dizzy. Passed. He felt feverish as he watched blankly as his mother broke down completely, his father doing his best to soothe her but not making much progress. Passed. DB reached for him, but Holden sat frozen as his brother wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Passed...to where?
“But...we were supposed to go see him.” His father glanced at him in surprise as his mother started in on a new round of tears. “I was supposed to read him DB’s story.”
“Not now, Holden. Can’t you see that your mother is distraught?” DB tightened his arms around Holden’s shoulders as their father snapped at him again, glaring at him like he’d done something wrong.
“You said the doctors would make him better,” Holden said accusingly, his eyes stinging in preparation for tears.
“Holden, not-”
“You liar!” His father looked like he’d been slapped. His mother gave a shocked hiccup at his outburst as DB pulled Holden tighter against his chest, but Holden twisted out of his grip and dashed from the room, the feeling of suffocation closing in on him. The feeling of death.
He couldn’t bear to see the door to Allie’s bedroom next to his, so instead, he fled to the garage, the only place in the house he had minimal memories of Allie. The only memory in there was the car, which they had taken so often to the hospital to see Allie. There wasn’t much else in the garage, to begin with. Besides their bikes, that is. Holden stared at the bike sitting innocently next to his, collecting dust.
“Can I come with you, Holden? Can I? Please!”
“Nah, maybe next time. We’re doing big kid stuff today. Go play with Phoebe!”
“Okay! Next time!”
His eyes flooded with the tears that wouldn’t come in the living room. Please, I’m sorry, Allie, you can come from now on! I promise! Just come back. His hands tightened into fists and his lips quivered. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears fell anyway. Holden stared at his reflection in the car window, with big, fat, ugly tears crawling down his cheeks and around his mouth and over his chin. For a second, he could have sworn it was Allie staring back at him. With a scream of anger and pain, he threw his fist at the window.
That’s not Allie.

He spent the next few days in a hospital. He hated it. For the last few months of his life, Allie had lived in a room just like that one, all white and sterile with beeping machines and nurses that wouldn’t make eye contact as they bustled about, checking clipboards and monitors. For some reason, that was all he could think about: Allie, sitting between the white sheets, eating disgusting hospital-food Jello and medicine and trying to start conversations with cardboard cutouts of nurses with clipboards in their hands.
He missed the funeral. DB came and told him all about it, still in his suit jacket with tears in his eyes. He told Holden about their family members that came to pay respects, most of whom hadn’t seen Allie since he was a toddler, and of the beautiful flowers everywhere (that Holden knew would wither in a few days or so), and the priest that came and talked about death and Heaven and God. Holden grit his teeth together and glared out the window. God didn’t save Allie. He took Allie away. However, Holden still believed that God wouldn’t take someone as good as Allie, someone who liked life so much, away. So that meant that there couldn’t be a God out there, because no God would ever let Allie die. Holden told DB this, but his older brother just stared at him sadly in silence. Before he left, he mentioned how everyone had been crying.
“What for?” DB stared at him in shock.
“Whad’ya mean, what for? It was Allie’s funeral!”
“They didn’t even know Allie. Not really. Not like we did.” DB just shook his head and didn’t say any more.

When he got out of the hospital, Holden’s parents took him to see the grave. He stood there, staring at the smooth stone sitting in the grass at the head of the newly overturned dirt as the rain soaked him. His parents stood under an umbrella, but Holden refused. If Allie was going to lay there in the rain, then Holden would stand in the rain, too. It was only right. But as he stood there, staring at the stone, Holden felt nothing but sadness. There was none of the happiness or giddy excitement that Allie carried around with him everywhere, which had always been infectious to Holden, as if Allie was oozing good feelings, and Holden was soaking them up. Allie brought that happiness everywhere, so shouldn’t it be here? All Holden could feel, though, standing in the rain like that, was coldness.
“Don’t you want to say goodbye to Allie, Holden?” his mother prompted, crying into a handkerchief. She was looking pretty ugly again, with puffy, bloodshot eyes and pasty skin the color of spoiled milk. Nothing like the actresses. Because the actresses are fake, moron. This is real life. This is ugly, angry, cold real life where everyone gets puffy eyes when they cry and people die and Allie is gone.
“Goodbye,” Holden muttered, but it was only to please his mother, who hadn’t been sleeping or eating since Allie died and he’d put himself in the hospital, according to DB. This isn’t Allie. Allie wasn’t in that grave, or in the hospital, or in their summer house. Holden knew what it felt like when Allie was near. It felt happy and warm and giddy when Holden soaked up all of Allie’s good feelings he brought everywhere. But if he’s not here...then where? Holden had to find him. Allie deserved to be somewhere he could always be happy, and Holden knew the places that made Allie happy. He would know if Allie was there, but he wasn’t, not yet, because there were no good feelings there, and Allie always brought good feelings with him. Until Holden could find Allie, find those feelings, he couldn’t focus on anything else. He owed that much to Allie, at least.
His father put a hand on his shoulder and steered him back in the direction of the car in silence. Holden didn’t look back. Allie wasn’t here, not really, so he wanted nothing to do with that hunk of stone and overturned dirt. So Holden stepped into the car, soaked to the bone from the never-ending rain, and sank low in his seat.
I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want it to go back and then never change again.