I never understood him.

I understood the emptiness within every drop that tumbled out of the sky. I understood the wholeness of emotion that filled every river cascading from his parents’ eyes, but I never understood him. We were as night and day. I was as fickle as he was stable and I could never have seized that moment as he had; the moment that marked him as a hero, the moment that brought all of these people together today. My fingers rubbed tirelessly at the stupid serpentine ring he always wore, the only artifact to manifest his memory in. I remember how its silver coils seemed to slither as the sun caught on its lustrous surface.
***

“Another F?” I asked. I noticed his face go sour like bad food as he stared into the paper.

“Yeah, but it’s just math. Finding an original value using the nth root seems like something really imperative to my life,” he practically spat. He folded the piece of paper up as if its appearance was the bane of his existence.

“Dude, chill. We all have to learn this stuff and I can tell you for a fact that no one likes it. It’s just the way things are,” I maintained.
I disguised my liking of mathematics behind a shroud of complacency. There surfaced the stark difference between us, the bleak reality of our contrasting personalities. As cousins who grew up together, people assumed we were one and the same. I never questioned the concrete aspects of society or let my mind wonder at the fantastically impossible. I was a realist and he was a dreamer. His head was always up in the clouds, staring into the great beyond. Sometimes you could see a few twinkles in his eyes, as if the cosmos were staring back.

Block by block we made our way to school, passing the numerous green-spaces and parks. The early morning sun casted rays like fire onto the dew-laden blades of grace, turning the fields into sparking green seas.

“Rick,” he said.
His tone was sharp, crisp as if my attention to his words were of the utmost importance. “We are nothing,” he deadpanned. “Look at the sun. It’s just one of billions, but it enslaves us. It’s rising and falling dictates when we wake and when we sleep.”
“So does the moon, Michael,” I said. I figured he was just belittling daytime just as he always did. We laughed and kept walking, Michael shaking his head.
“Touché. But you know how much I love the moon,” he sighed. Before I had a chance to reply, someone stepped up to us from behind. Someone I’d never seen before.
“You guys know where Riverdale High is?” asked the stranger. He looked about our age: Tall, barrel-bodied, and fidgety. His smile showed friendliness but his eyes betrayed a glint of desperation. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he waited for an answer.
“Um, yeah, we go there. You new or something?” I asked, stealing a glance at Michael before I looked at the newcomer. Michael’s brows were furrowed. Neither of us knew anything about a new student.
“Yeah. Uh. I’m an exchange student from um… Germany.” He stumbled through his words, almost as if they were badly rehearsed. Deciding to keep in line with us, he quickly moved from behind us to my left side.
“Oh nice. That’s kind of a big jacket for summer, man,” Michael observed. His jacket was big. One of those really puffy quilted ones. We were almost to school, the sun morphing the buildings into black silhouettes as its golden enormity glided higher into the sky.
“I just wear it because it reminds me of winter. It’s a metaphor,” the stranger said gravely, adjusting the shoulder straps of his bag over his thumbs.
“Ooh, poetic. We’ll get along great,” Michael said with a smile, letting a soft chuckle float into the air as he nodded approvingly at the stranger.
“Not poetic,” he deadpanned.
“No?”
“Just sad.”
We had just passed through the main courtyard of Riverdale High when we noticed the horde of high school students pouring into the gymnasium doors. Oops. There had been an assembly that morning and we were late. I could already smell the latex and bleach of cafeteria detention wafting through my mind. The three of us stepped into the shuffling masses and somewhere during our entrance, we lost track of our new friend. I shrugged and decided that we would cross paths later.
All memory of the words spoken in those next five minutes disappeared, replaced only with images, muffled sounds, and a terrible ringing that must have been a chorus of screams. I remember I saw the stranger unzip his jacket while stepping through the crowd. I saw it fall and hit the floor with an earthshaking boom. But that wasn’t it. Oh no, it wasn’t the jacket. It was the assortment of wires, capacitors, circuit boards, and bricks of cream-colored destruction.
“I WILL BLOW THIS F*ING PLACE APART,” the stranger shouted, fumbling to pull an ignition switch from his pocket.
More screams.
Pure chaos.
Everyone in the gym sprinted for the doors as fast as they could, desperately trying to put as much space between the bomber and them as possible; everyone except for Michael.
“Hey asshole!” Michael roared as he lobbed his left shoe right at the bomber’s head, taunting him towards an area away from everyone. The bomber flinched for a moment, staring at Michael in disbelief as he stood his ground with his hands balled into fists. The bomber took the bait.
They both started sprinting, Michael leading him to the most remote corner of the gym. Stupidly, I followed them, wanting to help my cousin however I could. I kept my distance however, staggering my feet and shuffling to and fro as they went at it. They circled each other for a good five minutes, the bomber threatening Michael with his thumb on the button. Suddenly Michael lunged forward, his full-body tackling the bomber to the ground in a pounce I’d only seen detailed in fantasy books.
The bomber quickly retaliated, pushing the button on instinct as Michael slammed him to the ground. In horror, I braced for the explosion, curling up and covering my ears as if blocking out the sound would save my life.
There was no explosion, only a beep. Apparently the button only initiated the countdown that continued to clock down second by second from 30.
“Michael, just let him blow up by himself! Come on!” I yelled, trying to bring him to his senses.
“He’ll chase us, Rick! I have to stop it! I have to,” he managed through movements and counter-movements, trying his best to tear away wires that seemed to connect everything on the bomber’s vest.
8…
7…
6…
5…
Michael looked up at me and bored those cosmic irises into my soul. Time seemed to slow as he struggled to hold down the bomber. Somehow, through some psychic alarm, I knew to run. It tore me apart to leave him behind but I knew that both of us would die if I stayed.
“That’s how you get out of this labyrinth, Rick. Straight and fast.” His words rang through my mind like a thousand tolling cathedral bells. I felt it before I heard it; the sheer heat and force swept me off of my feet. I remember soaring through the air, suspended in surreal sluggishness before I slid to a jolting halt against the nearby wall.