It was two weeks since the horrible accident had occurred.

As much of a school-skipper as Alfred F. Jones might seem, he didn't like to do it at all. Ever. So his friends all knew he wouldn't do that. Besides, two weeks was a little long for skipping school. Besides, if he did skip, he always kept in contact via phone.

But he hadn't. Sure, he checked his messages every day, which over the days had surpassed one-thousand. But he didn't respond.

So when he entered the school, head facing the floor, a dull look in his eyes, the attitude was jovial...until his friends actually noticed the weird aura around him. Alfred took his seat next to Arthur, his long-time best frienemy. Arthur patted him, worry knitting his brow. He attempted at a smile. "Alfred! Where've you been?" he said, with an obviously fake-happy tone.

Alfred didn't respond, just stared blankly at the whiteboard. He was remembering past events, until a sharp rap on the teacher's desk roused him.

"Mr. Jones," the teacher said with contempt, "care to step up here and tell us all why you left school for twoweeks with no notice?"

He stood up silently, and walked to the teacher's desk. He explained in a low voice that he couldn't say it out loud to the class, he was sorry, and the like. He did, however, whisper it in the teacher's ear. She covered her mouth, and looked him in the eye with sorrow. "I am sosorryfor your loss..."

As she said that, he was brought back to what had actually happened.

Two Fridays ago, Alfred was walking home from school with his brother, Matthew Williams. Matthew lived in a different house; their parents were divorced, and Alfred chose to live with his dad while Matthew chose the mother. They were joking around and having a great time, and catching up. After all, Matthew had been invisible to just about everyone until three days before, when he pulled Alfred over for a chat and they actually became friends.

The twosome were taking the long way to their houses, through downtown. Matthew heard a noise, and stopped for a moment, but Alfred didn't notice. They passed by an alleyway, in which a gang was having a brawl.

Matthew knew what was coming.

"Alfred! DUCK!" he yelped, pushing him down and jumping in front of him at the last minute. The thugs realized what happened, and ran like hell away.

Alfred rubbed his head. "Mattie, what did you..."

Matthew slowly fell to his knees.

"MATTIE!" Alfred screeched, scooting closer to his brother. Blood spurted and gushed out of a large hole in Matthew's chest. His dark eyes flickered open, and he smiled. "Hi, Alfred. I want to sleep now."

"No, nononoNO! Matthew stay with me!" Al yelped, shaking Matthew. It alerted a nearby jogger, and Al flagged her down to call 911.

Everything else happened in a blur. In fact, the only thing Al could remember clearly in that fifteen minutes was sitting in the ambulance, and talking to Mattie.

"Thanks for being there, Al. Even if you didn't notice me, it gave me a chance to dream."

After that, it was the hospital, which also rushed by. The doctor walked out, and Al jumped up. "How is he? Is he okay?"

The doctor sighed, and put his hand on Al's shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. He's dead."

Alfred snapped out of it, edging towards the point where he'd start crying and wailing uncontrollably. He sighed, and returned to his desk glumly. The teacher went to the blackboard. "So today we're learning more about the French Revolution..."

As it was, it became lunch period, without a problem solved. This irritated Arthur and his other three best friends. A lot. They scanned the crowd for Alfred, before Arthur's eyes finally settled on a hunched-over figure in a bomber jacket. Arthur gleefully headed over as he recognized it was Alfred, due to the large white '50' imprinted on the jacket. However, Alfred soon caught Arthur's notion, and stood up to leave as soon as Arthur arrived.

Arthur had a dismayed look on his face. He sighed, and took a seat at the table. He noticed Alfred heading to a tree. "Let's keep an eye on him," he suggested to the others. They all nodded, and watched, chewing their food.

Alfred smiled slightly at the tree. This was Matthew's favorite tree. After all, he'd been kicked out of the group, so Matthew had to find a place to call his own, right...? Al circled around it, fingertips dragging on the soft bark. Al stopped. That smooth spot. It was kind of sticky, too. He looked at it, and narrowed his eyes. Scratches in the tree. Spelling 'Alfred'.

He examined it closer. There were LOTS of tiny words! Hundreds and hundreds of characters, scratches, letter...

Al chuckled. "So THAT'S what you were doing back here, Mattie~!" he said quietly, using a piece of fallen bark to scrape off the substance.

He laughed a little more when he looked at the gooey liquid. "You and your maple syrup obsession, I swear. Though that was kind of smart, sealing over the stuff you wrote! Now, what didyou write?"

He glanced at the tree from top to bottom. He read myriads of things. 'August 27th, 2010'. Wait. That was last year! This was...

"His...living journal!"

He desperately searched around for the last entry. It was the day of his death.

'September 30th, 2011.

Alfred is the best brother anyone could ever have. Even if he never noticed me...he's so helpful and nice! I hope I can be like him someday. I also hope I'm not a hindrance to him in any way. I want to be better friends with him.

It's so nice to finally have someone to call a friend.'

Alfred's eyes brimmed with tears, and he slid down the tree. "I...w-was a HORRIBLE brother. I never did anything to help him, o-or hang out with him, or p-play hockey, or w-watch movies, or...or...t-teach him how to play v-video games, and g-goof off with him...I never even made an e-effort to include him. A-And he just wanted a friend so bad..."

His eyes narrowed with determination. "I have to do s-something for him."

Arthur frowned from his watching place. "Do you think...someone close to him passed away?" Francis interjected suddenly.

"Oh no, Francis, teachers usually say 'sorry for your loss' when you've done bad in the stock market, aru," Yao said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Guys! Shut up, he's doing something!" Arthur hissed.

Alfred took up a sharp rock, one that was obviously well-used. He figured it was the one that Matthew 'wrote' with. He circled to a blank spot in the front of the tree, and sketched. After about ten minutes, he admired his work.

A beautiful, natural-looking maple leaf was now carved into the tree.

Alfred sighed happily and leaned against it. "I'll come hang with you every day, bro, 'coz I know you're living in this tree somewhere. I'll be the good brother you wanted." He closed his eyes, and soaked in the sunlight.

Arthur approached him. "Hey, Al. We're having a group sleepover at Yao's house. Wanna join us?"

Al nodded. "Sure. One question."

"Sure, what?"

"..."

"..."

"...can Mattie come too?"