Cold Awakening

The thick smell of oncoming rain, which usually relaxed Geoff, did little to calm his nerves as his eyes bored at the tombstone before him. Sitting at the front of the tombstone was a picture of a teenage boy, whose bright blue eyes were now forever dimmed.

Thunder cackled in the distance and the branches above Geoff's head began to swing precariously from the sudden gust of wind. Geoff placed the Heineken bottle that was under his coat on the ground and ferociously rubbed his hands back and forth along his arms, instantly regretting wearing a t-shirt, windbreaker, sandals, and shorts, as his teeth chattered against the chilly December air. He let out a shaky breath as the familiar sensation of his throat closing up and dread overpowered him.

"I—I'm sorry dude," Geoff choked out, unable to fight the tears that were already forming beneath his closed eyes. "I'm sorry…"

It was 10:30 am on a Saturday morning in June, and Geoff remembered the day clearly. He was 5 at the time, playing at the local playground with this 10 year old sister Lexi while his mother supervised them from a nearby bench. It was tradition in the McCormick household for the mom and kids to go to the park every Saturday morning while Mr. McCormick was at work. And every Saturday morning, Geoff's routine consisted of going down the slide, climbing the monkey bars, playing tag with Lexi, and going on the swings, in that order. Geoff didn't know he was in for an unpleasant surprise that day.

Exhausted from chasing after his sister, little Geoff stood next to the boy who had been hogging the swing all day. "'Scuse me, could I go on after you?" he politely asked, his blue eyes giving the sandy-haired boy his best puppy dog look.

"Nope," stated 7 year old boy, laughing gleefully.

"But you've been on it for an hour!" Geoff said, his big blue eyes widening on his innocent face. "I wanna go!"

"I don't care!" the boy sneered, his face turning sour.

Geoff's bottom lip trembled as the mean kid continued to swing. "I'm telling my mommy on you!" Geoff threatened, slowing inching towards his mother.

The boy on the swing frowned and raked the front of his shoes into the damp woodchips, coming to a halt. "Fine, get on it!" he yelled, angrily pushing the swing behind him as he stomped away.

Happy that he wouldn't have to get his mother, Geoff plopped onto the seat and began to swing. But swinging only lasted for a mere second because just then, Geoff felt small hands against his back, and before he knew it, he was face down in the dirt. He cried on instinct and spat out the woodchips in his mouth.

"Geoff!" Mrs. McCormick screeched in the distance, and like lightning she picked up her crying son, cradling him in her arms.

The sobbing boy looked up to see who pushed him—it was the swing-hogger, who was proudly smirking.

"I told you you couldn't get on it," the brat sneered.

"Where are your parents, mister?" Mrs. McCormick demanded, glaring at the 7 year old and looking around the park. Instead of answering her, the boy stuck out his tongue and ran from the playground and out of sight. Mrs. McCormick shook her head and soothed Geoff who had now succumbed to hiccups. Geoff hoped he would never meet that mean kid again.

But hoping was useless in the upcoming years.

Matt Farley. That was the swinger-pusher- off-er's name, as Geoff later learned. Matt was only 2 years older than Geoff, but the two boys had a lot of mutual friends in elementary school, so Matt was everywhere! Whenever Geoff went to a friend's birthday party, Matt was there, ready to trip Geoff. Even at school during recess, Matt would give Geoff a wet-willie, in which Geoff would wail to his homeroom teacher and Matt would get detention. It didn't help that Matt lived close by and was on the same bus too, because Matt would throw spit balls in his hair. Geoff didn't have one mean streak in his body to fight back, and he didn't understand why he had to go to the park on that horrible day and had the misfortune to meet Matt Farley. All Geoff's classmates liked him for his outgoing, happy personality, but Matt just hated his guts.

Mr. McCormick talked to Mr. Farley about the bullying, and Mr. Farley would scold his son, but Matt never stopped. The bullying became a daily routine, and every day, Geoff despised Matt more and more. Now that he was a little older he didn't cry, but would sulk instead when his efforts to tell Matt to stop were in vain.

One day after school, 9 year old Geoff was forced to sit with Matt on the bus ride back home. It was the only available seat left, and it was the last seat in the back. No one talked to Matt because he was such a rude kid. When Geoff stepped on the bus and saw he had to sit next to Matt, his entire body froze.

"Go on now," the middle aged bus driver said, giving Geoff a small nudge. "We can't go 'til you're sittin' down."

"But I can't sit with him!" Geoff protested, gulping hard and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants.

The driver gave Geoff one of the most piss-inducing glares he had ever received. Geoff swallowed his pride (or his spit), with much difficulty and dragged his feet to the back of the bus. Matt moved his backpack to the empty spot next to him when Geoff appeared. Before Matt could open his mouth and say "No", the bus driver yelled, "Move your backpack or we ain't leavin'!"

Grumbling about how stupid the bus driver was and that it was a free country, Matt huffed and grudgingly moved his backpack to let Geoff sit down. The 9 year old tentatively sat down and stared at the brown leather seat in front of him.

Geoff's whole body was on edge; would Matt pull another wet willie? Give him a wedgie (was that even possible to do sitting down)? Or maybe venture out and push him off the bus seat this time? To Geoff's surprise, Matt retrieved his green Gameboy Color and began playing his game without a word towards the anxious kid.

Geoff couldn't help but lean over and see what game Matt was so engrossed in. "You like Pokémon?" he asked, astonished.

"Who doesn't?" came the all too familiar belittling voice, but Matt continued to pay Geoff no mind as his eyes were glued to the screen. Geoff pulled out his own red Gameboy Color and popped in Pokémon Silver. Matt saw this from the corner of his eyes and turned up his nose.

"Gold's way better than Silver," Matt snobbishly said.

Geoff shrugged. "It's the same thing, man. The only thing that's different is—"

"The Pokémon, duh." Matt rolled his eyes. "Gold's better cuz you can't get Ho-oh in Silver. And Ho-oh's cooler than Lugia."

"What?!" Geoff exclaimed. "Nuh-uh, Lugia's cooler than Ho-oh! He's like, the best legendary Pokémon!"

"I know how to settle this." Matt pulled out a purple battle cord from the front zipper of his backpack and connected one end to his Gameboy. "My Ho-oh against your Lugia! That is, if you have Lugia."

"Yeah, I have it!" Geoff insisted, connecting to the cord to his own game.

As the boys geared up for their Pokémon fight, Geoff couldn't help but think how weird this whole situation was. He was playing Pokémon with his sworn enemy—instead of taunting him, mocking him, throwing spit balls, flicking him—

"Are you gonna go or what?" Matt huffed impatiently, shoving Geoff's shoulder and shaking him out of his daze.

"Yeah, yeah," Geoff hurriedly said, and the two began to play.

In the first round, Geoff won.

In the second round, Geoff won again.

After round 10, 11, and 12, Geoff was still winning. And every round, Matt would get angrier and angrier and ask for a rematch.

Geoff finally had enough after round 20. "Dude, I beat you 20 times. Just face it, Lugia's cooler and stronger. So are my other Pokémon."

"But—"

"And my stop's here." Geoff slipped his backpack on and began to walk away.

"I—I wanna rematch tomorrow morning!" Matt called out, his voice reeking of desperation.

Geoff turned around to see the fiery determination in Matt's blue eyed and smiled. "Alright, see ya tomorrow!"

And right there began the stages of an unlikely friendship.

Once Geoff and Matt bonded over Pokémon, they realized they had other things in common too. They both liked video games, skateboarding, and hockey. Matt shortly stopped tormenting Geoff once they got to know each other better, which was very quickly. Geoff would go over to Matt's house to sleep over and vice versa, and their parents were finally happy that the war between their sons was over. They quickly became inseparable, and through it all, Geoff found it so ironic that the boy he held a grudge against for so long was now one of his best friends, and a big brother.

As Matt and Geoff grew up into their teen years, they abandoned their love of Pokémon and focused on more grown up things; girls, partying, sports, and more girls. Matt was the one who introduced Geoff to alcohol at 14 years old. Even though Matt was only 16 and the legal drinking age in Ontario was 19, Matt's 19 year old brother Jake was in college and always brought alcohol back home, so Matt would drink it over the weekends. One weekend, when Matt's parents were out of town, Matt invited Geoff over to drink. Geoff was hesitant at first because he didn't know how he would react, but once he drank and found out he was a happy, giggly drunk, and he liked letting his inhibitions go, he wanted to get drunk a lot more. So every Friday night, Matt and Geoff would go to their classmates' parties and get drunk. They were the perfect drunk duo, as they were both happy-go-lucky drunks, and they always had cool and funny stories to share with people.

Life outside home was nice—Geoff was the party guy, the cool guy, the fun dude everyone wanted to hang out with.

Life at home was not nice—Geoff was subjected to hearing his parents argue almost every night when he was trying to sleep. They had always argued for as long as Geoff could remember, but this time it was getting worse, as the arguments lasted for hours. Sometimes he heard them arguing about Lexi's college tuition, or who would pay for dinner when they ate at a restaurant. But he never asked his parents what was wrong; he figured he'd let them figure out their own trivial matters. He hoped they stopped soon because it was getting harder to sleep.

When 15 year old Geoff was walking back home from Matt's house one afternoon, he saw his father loading a small suitcase to the trunk of his car in the driveway.

"Dad?" Geoff asked in confusion.

Mr. McCormick jumped at the sound of Geoff's voice and turned to face his son with a weary expression, bags underneath his green eyes.

"Oh, Geoff," was the feeble reply. "Um—"

"What's going on?" Geoff slowly asked, switching his eyes back and forth to the car and his dad, his heart pounding faster than usual.

Mr. McCormick put his hand through his blond hair and took a deep breath. "Uh, there's not easy way to say this, but, uh…your mother's told me to move out—"

"WHAT? Why?!"

"Just for the time being—"

"What'd you—what did you do?!" Geoff said—not in an accusing tone, but one of bewilderment. "Dad, I don't get it, what—"

"We're not divorcing or anything like that," his dad insisted, his voice unusually thin. "It's just for a while, I'll be back—"

"But what did you do, man?!" Geoff was now yelling and Mr. McCormick flinched a bit. "Is Mom home?"

"She's not, but Geoff…I made some…decisions I'm not proud of…" His father kicked the back of his car harshly. "Dammit, I didn't want you to see me!" He shut the trunk with a bang and helplessly looked at his son, who was trembling with fury. "Your mom will explain everything when she gets back, ok? I'm staying at the Holiday Inn—"

"So when are you coming back?" Geoff asked darkly, his mind spinning a million different nasty thoughts.

"I don't know," Mr. McCormick replied in a strained voice. "But you know I love you, right?"

"Yeah." But that word sounded foreign and heavy on Geoff's tongue.

Mr. McCormick nodded curtly and got in his car. "I'll talk to you when I get to the hotel." With that being said, he drove out the driveway and vanished around the corner.

Geoff stood there, stunned in his driveway; baffled; angry; confused; and most of all, lost. Mrs. McCormick came home shortly after and wondered why Geoff was outside, but then he told her what happened and her face drained of all color. It was at that moment Mrs. McCormick told Geoff the truth: his father had a gambling problem ever since Mr. McCormick's mother passed away of old age a year ago. Geoff's dad spent more money then he should have—he dipped into Lexi's and Geoff's college funds, not to mention the joint account he shared with his wife. Money was depleting and that's what caused all the late night fights. Mrs. McCormick finally had enough, so after hearing her husband's lame excuses, she kicked him out temporarily and told him to go to rehab.

Were they getting a divorce? Geoff wanted to know.

Mrs. McCormick's lips moved but Geoff heard no sound through the ringing of his ears.

No. Just separating.

Geoff's dad called when he arrived at the hotel that day, but Geoff didn't answer the stranger who lived a double life and had turned his world upside down. His cell phone constantly burned a hole in his pocket, but he couldn't bring himself to call the man who starred in his recurring nightmares of never coming back home. But the truth was, Geoff missed his dad's presence in the house, and now it felt as cold as ice whenever he came home from school.

After his dad left, life at home was strained. Breakfast and dinner was always uncomfortable with minimal words exchanged with his mom. Sometimes at night, Geoff would grab the Smirnoff bottle underneath his bed and drink—drink enough to lull himself to sleep and forget his neglected homework, forget those nightmares, forget Lexi was too busy to talk to him about the separation, forget his dad had an addiction, and most importantly—

He wanted to forget how it was like to feel such agonizing sorrow.

Matt shot the hockey puck into Geoff's goal. "15-0!" he bragged, circling around the cul-de-sac in his skates. "You suck!"

Geoff nervously chuckled and scratched his back. "Yeah, I guess I'm getting tired of playing."

Matt stopped skating and looked at Geoff as is he was a specimen underneath a pitri dish. "What's with you?"

"What? Nothing!" Geoff insisted.

"You've been off your game lately. Like…" Matt hesitated before he added, "…are you good, bro?"

Geoff nervously gulped while Matt looked uneasy of where the conversation might head, and regretting that he brought it up.

"I'm just tired," Geoff unconvincingly lied while Matt stared at him. "Studying and stuff."

"Mr. Life Of The Party studying?" Matt sneered, his old self resurfacing every once in a while. "That's new."

"Yeah, something new," Geoff slowly repeated, gripping his hockey stick until his knuckles turned white.

"Well—" Matt looked skeptical but the ringing of Geoff's phone cut him off. Geoff put up his pointer finger before walking away a couple of feet.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Geoff, I just got a call from Principal Watson." Her voice was stern and hard, making Geoff on edge. "He informed me you're failing all your classes. Care to tell me what's going on?"

Geoff's jaw dropped down and said nothing as he tried to process his mom's words.

Failing all of your classes…all of your classes…

"I—"

"You do know that if you keep this up you'll have to repeat 9th grade?" his mother snapped.

Geoff said nothing.

"I know you're a B and C student, but Geoff, this is ridiculous!" she shouted. "Is the material too hard, do you need a tutor—"

"Mom!" Geoff managed to croak out, trying to hide the rising panic in his voice. He looked at Matt who was impatiently tapping his stick on the ground before saying lowly, "I'm fine, it's just a lot of stress. I think all the work's catching up to me."

"You know, Geoff," Mrs. McCormick's voice got noticeably softer. "I think we both know what this is about. I know things haven't been the same since Dad moved out—"

"That's not it," Geoff stressed.

"I think it is. Once I tell Principal Watson I think he'll understand. And seeing Mrs. Schroeder is probably going to be part of the deal for you to finish 9th grade. I just wish you told me sooner how you were feeling."

"If you didn't kick him out this wouldn't have happened!" Geoff accused.

Mr. McCormick went back to her hardened tone. "Geoff, there's a lot of things about your dad that you don't understand—"

"I'll talk to you later, ok? I'm at Matt's house." Geoff hung up despite his mom's protests and turned off his phone. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and put on a neutral face to Matt.

"What's up?" Matt asked, trying to analyze his friend's face.

"Just my mom reminding me when to come home." Geoff pushed his anxiety to the pit of his stomach.

Matt nodded, still skeptical. "Well, I got a text from Jake—he's throwin' a house party at his college next Friday. And you know there's gonna be all these hot college girls and lots of booze. I told him we were coming. You can come right? You don't have to study or anything like that?"

"Yeah, we are gonna live-it-UP!" Geoff high-fived Matt. "You know I'm down!"

"Ok, I'll get you at 7. This is exactly what you need, bro. Screw studying!"

Matt was right. Geoff needed this.

And he'd make sure it was a night he would never remember.

"Chug, chug, chug!" The screaming crowd of high school and college students chanted, urging Geoff and Matt to down their 8th Bud Light cans in less than 3 minutes. With a burp, Geoff wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and threw the empty can on the floor, thrusting both hands in the air as the crowd cheered.

"Damn, I was still on—on number 6," Matt hiccuped, clapping Geoff on the back. "You are the king, man!"

"Yeah I am!" Geoff gloated, ignoring the overwhelming nausea that was creeping in his stomach.

"Yo, Geoff!" a new voice called out. Blinking his unfocused eyes, Geoff made out the blurry image of Jake, Matt's older brother, coming towards him.

"'Sup Jake?" Geoff asked, giving Jake a fist pound.

"You are crazy dude!" Jake shouted over the blasting club music, giving Geoff a bear hug and lifting him off the ground. "You killed it! Listen, me and Jared just finished playing beer pong. You and Matt wanna be our next victims?"

"Bring it on brah!" Geoff belched, running to the huge wooden table in the living dining room where knocked over red cups and wet stains decorated the murky, teal floor.

Beer pong went exceptionally well. And by exceptionally well, Geoff meant he didn't care he was losing 3-5 because he kept drinking his Heineken even when he wasn't winning. Even though his stomach was on the verge of vomiting, Geoff forced himself to drink—drink, drink, drink and forget about his failing grades, his dad, his mom. Drink, drink, drink and live in the here and now, enjoying his first college party. Matt was too busy sloppily making out with a cute red-head on the table, and Jake and Jared had now also reached their limit and were hysterically laughing, spilling more red cups on the floor and leaving the table to flirt with girls.

Geoff closed his eyes, fighting the urge to hurl in the living room as the pounding pop music drowned his ears and dulled all his other senses. Despite the loudness and his churning stomach, he felt strangely calm as his eyelids began to feel heavy as he leaned closer to the wooden table.

Geoff's calmness was interrupted by a small girl who pushed past him at full speed, jolting him awake and pushing him to the ground.

"Whaaaaa," Geoff said in a tired haze, looking around with clouded vision to ask why she rudely charged at him. But he could barely open his mouth to ask—his lips felt disconnected from his face, the floor was shifting back and forth, and blurs of people darted past him in an ambush. It sounded like people were screaming but the music almost muted their panic.

"What—" Geoff tried again, but a wave of vomit rushed out his mouth and onto the floor. He clutched his stomach and groaned. He always held down his liquor, so this was a first.

"Geoff!" Geoff sluggishly turned his head and saw the obscure form of Matt helping him off the ground. "We gotta leave, the police are here!"

"P-police?" Geoff wasn't comprehending.

"They're arresting people and everything! We gotta go!"

"But—" Geoff thought he was going to hurl again so he put his hand over his mouth. Now that he was standing up and his body was rejecting alcohol poisoning, the faint screams he heard earlier on the floor were more pronounced. He still saw fuzzy outlines of people stumbling and tripping over each other, the music still blasting, and 4 police officers storming in the living room.

Matt and Geoff ran (or stumbled-ran as they were both drunk) into the kitchen and exited out the back door, running for their life. Luckily, Matt's car was only parked 2 blocks away, behind a large tree in complete darkness. Geoff was falling lazily behind as his balance was skewed. The sirens and the shouts of people were giving him a headache. He tripped over his own shoes and fell against the hard concrete, wanting to lie there and rest…if only he could just rest…

"Geoff!" Matt whispered-yelled, pulling his friend up and dragging him into the car. "What the hell man, are you shit-faced? Get your ass up!"

The sidewalk became a roller coaster, going up and down, down and up, and Geoff was having trouble regaining his balance. He wanted nothing more than to vomit, but he knew it would slow them down if he did. He heard police officers yelling in the distance, quickly approaching them.

In all of his drunkenness, Matt pushed Geoff into the passenger side of the car and jumped into the driver's side. Somehow, miraculously, the sirens and the yelling went away and all was quiet except the hum of the car. Geoff could feel himself moving at the speed of light in Matt's car, driving farther and farther away from the chaos. The world spun incredibly fast, Matt's silhouette spinning round and round like a Tilt-A-Whirl at 120 mph, and Geoff feeling as if he was on the ride himself, the car spinning along with him. Geoff felt himself stopping. Then dangerously spinning again.

Then painful darkness enveloped Geoff, and the spinning stopped.

Beep…beep…beep…

"We're going to…he'll need…" the disembodied voice kept going in and out like the connection of an old radio.

Garish light. Bleach. The smell of fresh laundry. All these senses bombarded Geoff at once, forcing him to open his eyes slowly.

White. White was everywhere. He couldn't move. His arms were stiff, his mind groggy, but he finally realized –

He was in the hospital. He was in the hospital wearing an oxygen mask and a neck brace. And his stomach felt peaceful and empty. He was happy he no longer had to vomit.

Something warm covered his right hand. He couldn't turn to see who it was, but he recognized his father's voice right away.

"You're awake," his dad said, relieved. "Thank God."

Geoff wanted to express his happiness that his dad was there, but his mouth was dry and pasty from exhaustion and underuse so nothing came out. He saw his mother sitting in a chair across from him, crying with her head in her hands. Lexi was in another chair sitting next to her, hugging her mother. A pang of sadness hit Geoff as he realized all the trouble he must've put his family through.

Just then, a middle-aged, balding doctor came into the room and looked at Geoff. "Well well well, he's awake." His voice belonged to the disembodied voice he heard earlier. "Don't try to talk, Geoff. You've been sleeping for the past 2 weeks and need all the rest you can get, after the trauma your body's experienced." He pulled up a chair and sat on the left side of Geoff. "You're lucky to only have a mild concussion, a broken right arm, and a fractured collarbone and rib. It's a good thing you wore a seat belt that night or you might've been killed."

That night?

The doctor squinted his eyes at the teen. "Do you remember?"

Geoff said nothing.

Mr. McCormick heavily sighed. "The paramedics from the ambulance told us a car sped through a red light and rammed into Matt's car, on your side, while Matt was driving. You were trapped underneath it."

Geoff still didn't know what the two men were talking about. He looked inquisitively at the doctor, who scratched his balding head.

"As uh, for your friend Matt…"

All at once, everything came flooding back to Geoff:

"Shit!" Matt hissed, haphazardly entering the driver's side and fumbling to put on his seat belt, his hands shaking and feeling like rubber from his intoxicated state.

"Dude, worry about that later, they're ganging up on ussss!" Geoff slurred-shouted, as the sirens and angry yelling that was behind them approached closer and closer.

Matt pounded on the accelerator and zoomed down the dark road, away from the cops. The police soon gave up on the chase as the sirens and lights dimmed. Geoff looked outside his window—or what he could make out from the hazy lines—and sighed.

"We—we made it!" He shakily put on his seat belt, trying desperately to ignore the spinning sensation that wouldn't leave him.

"Yeah," was all Matt said, gripping the steering wheel and speeding through intersections.

Geoff looked at the speedometer—90 mph—and stared at the red dot from the traffic light, feeling relaxed and less stressed. "But what a night, right?" he managed to say without throwing up.

The light turned green and the car resumed driving at its high speed. Matt smirked. "You're a real—"

Screeching tires on dry pavement filled Geoff's ears. Burning, excruciating fire invaded his body. Something heavy captivated his entire being, paralyzing him. Exhaust fuel filled his nose. And the Tilt-A-Whirl ride he was on finally stopped as he vomited on himself.

Geoff sharply drew an intake of air, salty tears welling up in his eyes.

The doctor connected his gaze to Geoff's. "He collided head first out the car and died on impact. I'm sorry."

Right then, Geoff wished he never woken up as he once more felt painstakingly, agonizing sorrow.

Geoff opened his wet eyes and grabbed the Heineken bottle he placed beside him, taking a swig and staring at Matt's tombstone, clutching the bottle, his face in turmoil. The December wind picked up, ruffling his thin jacket. He wiped the tears that streaked his face and took a deep breath before saying his monologue.

"Dude…life sucks without you. For real. It's only been a year, but man…it sucks. I…I should've told you what was going on at home…I kept visiting your grave after your funeral but I…I couldn't tell you what I'm about to say now." Geoff drank another gulp of his beer and exhaled.

"I'm sure you know now, but my parents are divorced. They filed after the…the accident in November and got it granted in February. They grounded me all the way up 'til January, man. They seriously did not know I went to a college party and was drinking underage." Geoff bitterly laughed. "And after all of that I somehow managed to pass 9th grade. Oh yeah, I didn't tell you that. Well, my parents were separated and when we were playing hockey that day and you asked me if everything was cool, it wasn't. It wasn't dude. Dad went to a hotel and it messed me up. I was failing my classes, and Mom said I'd have to repeat 9th grade if I didn't get it together and I'd have to see Mrs. Schroeder!

"So I went all out at Jake's party trying to forget all my problems, ya know? But I should've told you when you asked. I was going to later, man, but…" Geoff looked at the picture of the smiling boy and shook his head, a hard lump forming in this throat. "So uh…" he paused before continuing, his voice strained. "You don't know how guilty I feel, brah. You just don't know. I told you not to worry about your seat belt but…I somehow put on mine? Everything happened so quick. If I didn't say that you could still be here…living and stuff. Jake and your family said it wasn't my fault but I didn't tell them—I didn't tell them about the seat belt cuz I thought they'd hate me. But I guess I should say something now…"

He paused a moment before shouting at the top of his lungs, "WHY'D YOU LISTEN TO ME?!"

Even though he was all alone, the faint noises of rustling leaves and animal calls immediately stopped, and all was eerily quiet. Geoff couldn't contain himself anymore and started sobbing and hiccuping hysterically, his voice high-pitched. "So what if we got busted, at least you'd be alive! You would've been alive! Why the heck did you listen to me?!"

He hastily brushed his tears away and stared at the ground, afraid to look at the picture looming before him. Once he composed himself after a couple of minutes, he continued. "It's funny cuz I hated you when we first met," he said, voice trembling but calmer than before. "But now you're…you're my best friend. Always will be dude." He forced himself to look at the picture and didn't break his gaze. "Um…I'm seeing Mrs. Schroeder now. I decided I needed to get help. And my mom and the principal forced me to anyway after you…so uh, she told me to sign up for this thing called Total Drama Island. She thinks it'll be good for me. Take my mind off things, ya know? It's a reality TV show and I could win $1 million dollars. I already put in my audition tape and everything. Hopefully I get accepted in the spring. I faked being happy and talked about parties a lot, but I look like a big hypocrite talking about parties and not saying what happened to us. But everyone knows me as the party guy, and I couldn't think of anything else to say…If I win, I'm gonna use the money to open a hockey rink in your name, since you said you wanted to be a pro, right? That way everyone will remember you."

He dug out a small, blue, Pokémon card from his pocket. "It's Lugia. I know you hate him, but I beat you 20 times with this thing. You can look at it just for laughs." Geoff placed it on the neat stone ledge.

"I hope you're doing ok up there, dude. 10th grade's ok. Same as 9th grade. I'm getting along with my parents better. The guy who hit us paid your family and me a settlement for reckless driving, so if I don't get on the show, I'll use that money to save up for the rink. But if I do get on the show, I'm giving it my all. If I'm gonna win this thing for you I can't mope around. Mrs. Schroeder thinks this will help me get my old self back. The guy who doesn't have to put on a fake smile and pretend he's happy and chill all the time. Someone who isn't depressed almost every day."

For the first time since the accident, Geoff gave a sincere, warm smile to Matt's picture. "Take care, man." He finished the last of his beer before turning around and heading back home, his conscience cleared as he wiped his wet face.

The storm clouds exploded with rain and the wind picked up speed. Despite the strong wind trying to capture the Pokémon card into the dark clutches of the abyss, the card stubbornly stayed attached to the tombstone, unmoving and unrelenting.

This is the saddest thing I've ever written. I even teared up writing this. I just wanted to write a dark Geoff story and show that he's not the happy guy everyone thinks he is. It even tied in to why he competed in Total Drama Island.

Reviews are appreciated :)