A week after school had let out for summer vacation, I woke up later than usual one day. I made a brief glance at my alarm clock and saw that it was 1:35 in the afternoon. Dammit, why didn't Namęšéme wake me up earlier? Usually, by this time, I would have already eaten breakfast and lunch. So why did I sleep late? I mean, I didn't mind because it made me feel a little like a grown-up, but it still seemed weird.

I slowly got out of bed and made my way into the master bedroom where I assumed Namęšéme and Mrs. Richardson would be. I... I wasn't sure how to process this. Namęšéme was still lying in bed, but someone had slit his throat with what I guess was a steak knife. Who would do something like that? I then glanced over to see the sliding doors to the closet ajar. Curious, I walked into the closet and saw that Mrs. Richardson had hung herself from the clothes rod. Holy shit, did... did she kill Namęšéme before then taking her own life? I had to call someone, anyone to help me out. I ran back to my bedroom and called 911 on my Garfield phone.

"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked on the other line.

I started breaking down, crying. "Please help. My grandpa and his wife are both dead! I-I-I think she killed him and then herself! She slit his throat!"

"Are you alone?"

"No, my aunt Amy is here. She's just a baby."

"We'll send help. What's your address?"

I gave the operator my address. "I'm only twelve. I-I'm scared."

"Alright, we'll send out paramedics and police. Just hang tight and don't go anywhere."

I was still crying by the time the police and paramedics had arrived. I'd made sure to feed Amy and change her diaper in the meantime. I sat on the front porch, holding Amy closely to me, and watched as Namęšéme and Mrs. Richardson were brought out in body bags. I couldn't believe that just a week ago, I'd told Namęšéme about how Ximena let us have a go-kart race on the last day of school at recess and that lots of people had signed my yearbook. Now he was gone forever. My entire family was gone, all except for Amy. What now?

"You never suspected anything related to mental illness at all?" a cop was asking me while he wrote some things down on a notepad.

I just shook my head. "I thought Arizona was just suffering from the baby blues. I didn't think-"

The cop put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "It's not your fault. Sometimes, it can take a while before symptoms develop, several weeks even."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"My partner and I think your grandfather's second wife might have been dealing with..." The cop cleared his throat. "...postnatal psychosis."

"I heard people who deal with psychosis were monsters."

"Well, uh... let's change the subject, shall we? Obviously, you and your... aunt can't live by yourselves, so we'll need to notify a grown-up you might know who could take you two in. Do you know anybody who could be your legal guardian?"

The McBride family immediately came to mind. "My next-door neighbors could take me and Amy in."

"You mean the McBride family?"

"Yes, sir."

The cop nodded to show he understood. "Alright, I'm going to go next door and notify them about your grandfather's death, okay?"

"Okay."

Frankie hugged me and Amy both when the cops brought us next door. It was so nice to have her comfort me after all this. I was never going to worry about facing the world alone, not while she was around. I could see a future with us together, with kids and pets and a nice house and everything.

"How are you holding up, Jasper?" Frankie asked me.

"Not that great, unfortunately," I replied. "I've been better, but I've also been worse."

"Sorry to hear that, Jasper. I know how it feels to lose a grandparent."

Oh, right. Anita had died two weeks ago. Namęšéme and Mrs. Richardson and I event went to her funeral. It had been so quiet that day. It was an open-casket funeral, so we got to see up close how great of a job the mortuary makeup artist did doing Anita's makeup, nails, and hair and actually making her look alive. Hell, I think she looked somewhat younger there than when she had been alive. There was not a single dry eye there, and I could vouch for that since my eyes weren't dry.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Frankie asked me again.

I trembled just a bit, trying not to let the trauma of what I'd just witnessed get to me. "I-I don't know. It just really hurts right now."

"Well, you've got me, Mom, Dad, Glen, Homer, Shelly, and Melba to get you guys through this. We'll always be there for you if you need us."

"O-Okay..."

At that moment, Newt and Jewell both walked into the living room. They had sad looks on their faces, clearly from what the cops had told them.

"Jessica, we heard about what happened with your grandpa and his wife," Jewell said. "It absolutely breaks our hearts that Arizona would do this, and especially to her own husband. Is there anything we can do for you right now?"

"Just don't talk about Arizona anymore," I replied, slightly irritated that they decided to mention Mrs. Richardson at that moment. "I don't even want to think about her."

"Alright, if that's what you want," Newt said. "We just want to make sure you feel comfortable here."

"Thanks. Anyway, I'm really hungry. I haven't eaten anything since I woke up. What's for lunch?"

Jewell thought about it for a minute. "Well, we've got leftover sausage with biscuits and gravy from earlier this morning if you want some."

"Yeah, that... that sounds about good."

"Alright, let me just get some from out of the fridge, alright? We'll get you fed in no time."

This would work out just fine. Being friends with them was good enough already, but having to live in the same house as the love of my life? That was even better.