"I think I will take you up on the car races, if the offer is still up."

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Brooklyn

"How's Justin doing?" Mom asked as she flipped two fresh-baked pancakes on my plate.

I squeezed the almost empty bottle of maple syrup over them, extracting the last drops. "He's... doing," I sighed. "Which I guess it's as much as you can expect."

My mom sent me a sympathetic look before returning to the stove. "I can't even begin to imagine how his mother must feeling, left alone with three kids under her wing... " she trailed off, shaking her head.

She'd seemed very affected by the whole thing ever since I told her. She'd made me bring food—good thing she was such an excellent cook—every time I visited Justin, which had resulted in their kitchen counter ending buried underneath plates and plates of homemade lasagna and cakes. I could tell Pattie appreciated it, for she wasn't really in the mood to cook. Rob, Justin's uncle, had been there whenever I dropped by. He seemed like a fairly nice man, but then again, we'd hardly shared a word in the time we'd know each other (which was barely a few days). Justin didn't talk to him much either, and Jaxon eyed him warily. The poor kid probably didn't even remember his uncle.

As for Jazmyn, nobody had gotten a word out of her since Saturday. It was Wednesday now. We were lucky she had finally left her room on Monday to take a shower and eat something. Justin had tried to get her to talk, but it was in vain. Pattie was worried she would go into some PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) after the loss of her father. I knew she was daddy's girl. I knew how that connection felt, and I couldn't even fathom myself in her place. She didn't want to talk to me either. She wouldn't even let us hug her, and if we started to open our mouth to protest against her mute strike, she would hide herself under the covers of her bed or lock herself in the bathroom. We had tried to avoid causing that. Pattie and Justin were scared she would try to harm herself. She hadn't gone to school or answer her friend's phone calls. She hadn't even left the house for fresh air. At this point, we were all remarkably concerned.

Justin was another story. I had seen him every single day after school when we both picked Tommy and Jaxon up from soccer practice, and then spent some time hanging out. I could tell he wasn't always with me, though. He hardly ever was, truth be told. He dodged the subject of how he was feeling as soon as I tried to bring it up. He was shutting himself in again, leaving me out of his little security bubble to try to decipher every look or thing he said. Unfortunately, he was disgustingly good at masking emotions. It was frustrating, knowing there was nothing I could do to bring his dad back—because that was the only thing I could do to make him feel better.

He'd made that clear the previous afternoon when I'd asked.

"Bring my dad back! That's the only thing that will make me feel better," he'd cried. Immediately afterwards, he had apologized for yelling at me. He had tucked me between his arms against his chest, and whispered that he was sorry again and again. I hadn't been as affected or hurt as he believed—any emotion he let seep through his walls was welcomed. Moreover, snapping was normal under these circumstances. I was oddly surprised he didn't do it more often. What worried me was the fact that he was crumbling down inside and he wouldn't let me help him.

I guess my little speech on Sunday when I'd found him playing basketball by himself hadn't had the desired effect. I'd just gullibly hoped it would. A very naïve part of me thought he might open up this time. But he was like an armored tank.

Now, I was terrified of how things could turn out to be. Because Justin wasn't good at channeling his emotions there was a pretty big chance that he would choose the wrong way to free them out. A way that involved weed and brass knuckles.

"I let a dress for the funeral draped over your desk chair," my mom said. I hadn't realized I totally zoned out, fork in the air and all. I nodded at her while chewing on my already lukewarm food.

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