Falling Far From The Tree

by Drama-Duchess

Evan has decided he needed to die. He hastily makes another attempt at suicide, except this time, Connor finds him and intercepts. After accidentally reading Evan's letter in its entirety in the computer lab, Connor realized there was someone who needed to be saved more than himself. Connor selflessly sets off on a mission to save Evan, and inadvertently ends up saving himself.

7. End of May or Early June

Chapter 7: End of May or Early June

With graduation fast approaching, it would mark the end of a tough chapter in the lives of Evan and Connor. And they would soon embark on a new chapter. They often contemplated what that next chapter would be. They asked themselves – where to next? Were they going to travel the world? Continue onto college? Get a job and if so, what kind? They spend many lazy afternoons at The Boulder speaking candidly of frivolous dreams and possibilities after they got out of High School. Evan had always wanted to take time off and bike the scenic Appalachian Trail or maybe with his literary talent, he'd write a book illustrating those very experiences when he returned. He joked and wondered if anyone would read it. Connor said he would be the first one to buy Evan's book if he wrote one. Connor dreamed about learning to sail and taking to the seas for an extended adventure – just going wherever the wind took him and let the world pass by. He raved about how cool that would be. But one thing was for certain, whatever they decided to do, they promised to do it together.

They enjoyed this talk about wild and maybe not so impractical dreams that maybe someday, they would accomplish. They agreed it was rather ironic that they were actually talking about the future. To think that at the beginning of that same school year, they were both seriously contemplating death and how that would be the solution to everything. Now, they had so much to live for because they had each other's support.

Heidi wanted Evan to go to college. She wanted him to have the experience she never had, and to have an opportunity to rediscover himself. It didn't even matter what subject Evan chose to major in. Whatever it was, she was going to be completely supportive of it. Evan's happiness and well-being was important to her. They knew they didn't have the money to cover for Evan's full tuition, but Heidi reassured him that she would do whatever it took to support him financially. Besides, the future was promising because not only was she a semester away from earning her paralegal certificate from the Vocational Institute, but a job with decent pay was lined up for her afterwards.

During a casual conversation between Larry and Connor, the subject of college was brought up and Connor mentioned about the Hansen's financial struggles. Larry was surprised because after a handful of dinner parties together, the subject was never brought up. He was under the impression that things were fine. But Connor clarified that Heidi was too proud to admit anything was wrong. The truth was that they were only just getting by, and there was no college fund saved for Evan. Evan's father never set one up nor had he contributed towards one. The money that he had sent through the years were spent on rent and food. Then there were Evan's numerous medical bills that had accumulated and needed paying. Larry spoke to Cynthia about it and they were determined to find a way to help Heidi and Evan. At a Murphy family barbeque, Larry gave Heidi a proposition. A paralegal job had opened up in his firm and she would be a perfect fit for the position. Although she would be in a different department than Larry's, it was a nice paying job with great benefits. Larry added that he knew the head of the department really well and had already put in a good word for her. She pretty much had the job in the bag. Heidi couldn't be more grateful for the big break.

Evan wanted nothing more than to please his mother and if it meant going to college, then he would do just that, except he'd be doing it mainly for her and not for himself. As for himself, he wasn't sure what he wanted. He could honestly say that he never opted college out. He had always been fond of learning, but he was afraid being around all those people was going to affect his anxiety. He weighed his options. It basically came down to going to college or getting a job. It could be both, and eventually he'd have to get a part time job somewhere to help pay for tuition, but he didn't think he could handle both in the first semester. He had already decided that if he were to go to college, he would commute rather than go for dorm life. He just didn't feel comfortable or confident enough to be thrown into a melting pot of rowdy students and an invasion of personal space. It wasn't going to be good for a person with social anxiety issues.

Evan had to find a way to help with expenses. Then he remembered that stack of brochures, flyers, and pamphlets that his mother had collected over the school year. It had been sitting on the kitchen counter, untouched, for a very long time. Heidi discovered Evan had a knack for writing ever since he placed 3rd on a national short story contest, which then spurred the idea of Evan potentially winning other similar contests that included prize money. So Heidi started collecting everything she could on writing and/or essay competitions and contests. Evan never felt motivated enough to look through them because so much had been going on that year.

His mother had another late shift at the hospital one night and Evan was left to his own devices. Evan had finished his dinner, which was microwaved beef stroganoff that his mother had made in advance and stocked in the freezer. Ever since she became aware of Evan's nutritional issues, she was concerned about his eating habits and not putting enough wholesome home cooking into his body, so she made sure he was fed well each week. Evan was sipping soda out of a can when that stack of documents caught his eye again. He grabbed it off the counter and brought it with him to the living room.

Evan started flipping through the papers aimlessly, skimming the topics, taking note of the deadlines, and understanding what each had to offer if selected as the winner. He eventually separated them into neat piles as he went through them in random order. He made piles for YES, NO, and UNDECIDED. He realized there was an abundance of essays based on the writer's opinions on a particular given topic. There were various categories pertaining to the environment, controversial issues about laws and ethics, debatable political viewpoints, and economic structures. Then there were the essay prompts based on personal accomplishments and obstacles. Some were made for college applications, some were open to the public, and some were so exclusive that they needed an entry fee.

For a while, none of the topics really spoke out to him, and he didn't expect them to because they all seemed generic and screamed academia. It wasn't until he came down to near the end of the stack that a particular one drew his attention. His eyes befell on a leaflet. It was a glossy and neatly folded prune colored cardstock. On the front was an intricate design of an inky raven with a long threatening bill and beady eyes. The words "The Edgar Allan Poe Essay Writing Competition" were spread across the top in a blocky calligraphy font. E.A.P was one of Evan's favorite American writers, so naturally, just the name alone caught Evan's eye. Evan couldn't recall how many times he had obsessively read and reread The Tell-Tale Heart.

He opened the leaflet and read the detailed entry guidelines. The competition was open to the public, eligibility was anyone 17 and up within the United States, and the deadline for all entries to be submitted via online by the end of May. Judging would commence at that point and the winner (and losers) would be notified by an official letter in the mail in early June. It listed the prizes after that for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place. The 1st place winner would be awarded $10,000 and the winning essay would be published in the widely acclaimed Edgar Allan Poe Literary Journal for all to read.

Then Evan read the prompt. This year's topic was "The Moment That Changed Your Life." It asked to write an expressive and compelling essay of any length describing how this one instance made you a stronger and better person. The prompt was so simple, yet so entirely complex. It was attractive because the story Evan had to tell was not just any random run of the mill facetious story. It was dark, nefarious, destructive, emotional, turbulent, atrocious, and severe, yet also passionate, genuine, inspiring, enlightening, and heart-warming. It was something that hit very close to home, and he suddenly felt an odd calling to somehow address the ageless issue of mental health and the yearning for emotional stability.

For all the experiences that Evan endured that year, he felt this was the perfect outlet to let people know (even if it meant only one person was ever going to read it) that no matter how bad things get in life, no one is forgotten. He had tasted darkness many times and agreed it was an extremely scary place to be in, but it took him a while to learn that all he had to do was call out to be little less alone. When everything seemed wrong and broken, someone would be there to pick you up and give you the strength to rise again. Evan felt he had to fulfill an obligation, a responsibility to be a voice, to reach out, to be a reason someone might consider wanting to live, and most importantly, to be heard. He needed to do for someone, anyone, what Connor had done for him. Paying it forward.

Evan's eyes travelled back to the prizes. The 1st place prize money was an appealing sum. It was larger than most of the other contests. That 10K would definitely help out and ease some of the financial strains, but he wondered if he would even make the top three cut. It would have to be an above average essay to win 1st place. With confidence slowly diminishing, he looked at the 2nd and 3rd prizes. Second place was $5,000, and third place was $2,000. They were still good prizes and Evan figured he would still be happy if he placed third.

Evan abandoned the three piles he made on the living room couch and took the prune-colored pamphlet with him to his room. He went to his desk, switched on the lamp, plopped down on the swivel chair, and turned on his laptop. He unfolded the pamphlet and reread the prompt. He set the pamphlet aside and stared at the blank Word document page on his laptop. The cursor at the top was blinking impatiently at him – ready and waiting for instruction. Then his gaze fell upon the huge National Geographic map of the United States plastered on the adjacent wall depicting the different nature trails across America. He needed to find the best way of telling his story. He needed a good opening line that would grab the reader's attention.

He eventually went back to the essay prompt and asked himself – when was the actual true moment that changed his life? Was it in the computer lab when he wrote the letter? Was it when Connor signed his cast? Was it when Connor accidentally took the letter from the printer and read it? Was it when Connor became his friend? Was it when Connor came and talked him down from taking that step off the boulder?

Something caught his attention. On his desk was the beautiful coffee-table book of professionally photographed trees that Connor had given him for Christmas. He glanced at the title "Pictures of the Most Amazing Trees." Right in the middle of the book jacket cover was a color photo of a single grand oak tree. Its symmetrical wide branches extending outward and upward from a thick trunk, like as if it was reaching for towards the sky. Evan decided it was most likely summer when this photo was taken because the leaves were vibrant in color, full, lush, and robust. The sky in the background was blue and high with not a cloud in sight, and the sun's rays danced off the leaves leaving a twinkling gleam. The summer. The tree.

Suddenly, Evan had an "aha!" moment. It was like as if a light bulb went on in his head and all was clear. He knew the exact moment when his life changed forever. He was surprised he hadn't seen this before. It was right there in front of him all along. All the episodes that lead up to his changed life, went further back than the eye could see – before he met Connor, and before he wrote that letter in the computer lab. It was the time when he was so adamant and fixated on what he thought was the answer to a problem. Something that he was convinced would've solved everything if he had been successful. He now saw that single action had turned out to be the driving force that later propelled his life into a direction he never thought possible.

It was that tree at Ellison State Park – the straightest, tallest, most perfect one he could find. That very day, excitement and adrenaline pumped through his veins as ambition took over. He mustered up all the strength and agility he had and climbed that tree. One foot after the other, one branch then to another, higher and higher, until there were no more branches left to climb. When he reached the top and the summer sun was shining on his entire face, he remembered feeling an overwhelming sense of joy, release and that everything was going to be alright soon. It was so warm and inviting, and called out to him. That warmth soothed his troubled soul, enveloping every fiber of his being. He wanted so badly to reach towards it. Evan had the free-will to do as he pleased. No one was there to restraint or persuade him of anything otherwise. He acted at his own discretion. If he wanted to lose his grip on that branch, it was his choice. And so, Evan closed his eyes and let go. That was the very moment that changed his life.

He took a deep breath, collected all his thoughts and allowed them all to fall into place in his head. Turning back to the blank page, Evan knew where he must begin – at the tree. His long fingers curled and hovered over the keyboard of his laptop for a second. He then typed the first lines – A tree is a symbol of life. It represents strength, growth, connection to all beings, and in many ancient cultures, the cycle of life and death.

The words just flowed magically through his fingertips and before he knew it, he'd been typing for hours. When he finally tore his eyes away from his screen, he noted the alarm clock on his nightstand showing 1:37 AM in green digital numbers. Evan released a tired yawn. He was so absorbed in his writing that he didn't hear the front or back door, but he figured his mom had made it home by then. Way exhausted from the double shifts, she probably crashed right into bed, as usual. He would go check on her in a few minutes before he went to sleep as well. It was a weeknight and he had school in the morning, so he definitely didn't want to oversleep. He glanced back at his screen and smiled. Pleased with what he was able to accomplish, Evan hit the "save" button and shut off his laptop.

Evan spent the next three days pecking feverishly away at his keyboard whenever he had a free moment. For the first time in years, he felt motivated, compelled, committed, and driven to work towards something important. His heart raced with excitement and yearning each time he opened that laptop to write. It was like as if he was destined to be some kind of a writer. Writing had always been Evan's safe-haven, refuge, and happy place since a very young age. But somewhere along the way, he'd lost the spark and the ambition, and fell into a darkness that he didn't think he could get out of.

Evan was one of those people who wasn't very good at expressing himself verbally, perhaps it was due to the social anxiety issues, but when it came to the written language, he excelled. Text and words were his oxygen. He lived and breathed it. This wasn't about being obligated to provide an essay to submit for a competition anymore. This was something he needed to do for himself, to put his story in writing, to express his emotions through words, and to tell what he gained from all this. He told Connor about "The Edgar Allan Poe Essay Writing Competition" and the essay prompt, and how he was in the midst of telling his story. Connor was undoubtedly supportive and enthusiastic.

Like an artist who won't reveal his painting to the public until it is finished, Evan decided to keep his essay under wraps until it was complete and edited. Connor respected the fact that Evan couldn't show what he had so far. He understood that more than anyone because he was an artist. However, he showed a great interest and desire to read it once Evan was indeed finished. Evan replied that he would love nothing more than for Connor to be the first one to read it and give an honest opinion.

Evan and Connor alternated at each other's houses after school. When they weren't studying or doing schoolwork, they were playing video games and sharing YouTube videos. And if the weather was nice, they would spend the afternoon at The Boulder just talking and enjoying the view. They were never too busy for each other.

Evan was certain that nightfall was the best time when the ideas soared and writing flourished. Maybe he was inspired by the stillness of the night or the darkened star-studded sky or even the solitude of an empty house. He would sit in his room with the only light coming from a desk lamp and the computer screen. There were no external noises or sounds distracting him from his flow. He was able to get so much done.

He wrote his story with the utmost honesty. He painted a vivid picture, explained his emotions with conviction, and influenced his reader with sincerity. It was vulnerable, raw, edgy, unguarded, and unlike anything anyone has ever written, hence identifiable to everyone. He wrote eloquently about the tree at Ellison, letting go, hitting the ground hard and waiting for someone to come get him, the lies he built around his broken arm, the darkness that loomed deeper each passing day, the letter he wrote to himself (the last letter that he was ever going to write), and his commitment to die. He described his life as a deviation from what was considered the average teenager. There weren't many who could say they had social anxiety problems, sudden panic attacks that came out of nowhere, having to see a therapist on a regular basis, and snacking on Ativan, all at the ripe old age of seventeen.

Inserting the whole "Dear Evan Hansen" letter into a block quote in his essay was a huge step. But it was a risk Evan was willing to take in order to bare his soul, be entirely honest, and come completely clean. He needed his reader to understand how serious he was and that his plans were premeditated. He explained his unhealthy obsession with reading and rereading and analyzing that letter to death thereafter (no pun intended).

Evan introduced his reader to Connor Murphy as a diamond in the rough, because that was how Evan saw him. Connor was never given the opportunity to let people see the goodness that dwelled in his heart. People often judged a book by its cover, as was the case with Connor. And so, he was condemned and labelled, and placed in a category that didn't suit him. Evan described Connor with a sort of uncanny realism that was both heartfelt and accurate. But he emphasized Connor's true character and how he became his best friend, and later, Evan's savior.

Evan hesitated for a moment as to whether or not he should reveal certain details pertaining to Connor's frame of mind. It would expose Connor, but on the other hand, his story wouldn't make sense if he omitted those parts. And he felt he'd been truthful to the reader this long, to start fabricating truths now, would be a huge disrespect. He didn't want to be a fraud. He decided to tell what he felt would help his story grow, which still meant he had to include the fact that Connor was suicidal too. There was no way around that.

The writing progressed again into the late evening with midnight quickly approaching. Evan went into details on the significance of The Boulder, what that particular spot mean for him and Connor, to the day when everything changed at The Boulder, the sharing of dark secrets, and coming to a realization that someone else was going through the exact same thing. Tears burned in Evan's eyes as he described his thought process when he stood atop that boulder, seconds away from taking a final leap into a world without pain. That was his weakest moment - the silent scream, the loss of all hope, and the emptiness in his heart. There was nothing left. All he wanted was for someone to care – for someone, anyone, to come get him. And it was Connor who came. Evan had to stop typing. His hands were shaking too much, and he needed to compose himself.

Even though this was something that happened so many months ago, it was still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday. There were some things that one just couldn't ever get over no matter how much time had passed. He wasn't surprised by going back there, that it would open up old wounds and rehash emotional turmoil all over again. Evan walked anxiously around his room in circles trying to get the sensation out of his system, but the more he did that, the more he fidgeted, and tears fell. He went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. It helped a little, but when he returned to his room and sat back at his desk, he knew he was done for the day. He couldn't continue because he was way too distraught. He saved his work and went to bed.

Tossing and turning for a while, he grabbed his phone twice thinking of texting Connor, but he figured Connor was asleep. Then finally, he sent Connor a "waving hand" emoji, just to test out if he was still awake and to see if Connor would wave back. A few seconds later, it was answered with a "thinking face" emoji. Connor was indeed awake.

Why are you still awake? It's after 1 am! Evan texted.

I should be asking you the same thing. I'm in the garage working on a painting. What's the matter? Can't sleep? Connor replied.

Yea, something like that…. hit a snag on the essay. Evan wrote.

Like writer's block? Connor asked.

Not really. Evan's response was way too short.

Then what?

IDK… Evan's three-letter reply was even shorter.

Tell me.

Sorry I'm bothering you so late. Evan replied, sort of avoiding the subject.

It's no bother. What's on your mind?

I was writing about that day. You know which day I mean…Omg, everything just came rushing back. I couldn't go further, had to stop.

I see. It's a heavy subject. I can imagine it still being very fresh and emotional.

Wow, I never thought I'd feel like that again. It was like unburying the dead. I was so overwhelmed. So much grief. Evan explained.

Are you having thoughts again?

No, it's nothing like that, I don't think.

Evan…

Honest! But I feel like I had to reach out to you. idk…just because I needed someone to steady me.

I'm glad you did.

But I'm ok.

You sure?

Yea. Seeing your text puts me back into the present time. Really needed that.

You know I'm always here.

I know.

What are you gonna do about the essay? Connor asked.

I'll go back to it tomorrow. I have to finish what I started. I need to do this…for myself mostly. Evan wrote.

I knew you would. I know you're not a quitter. I'm proud of you. Just keep pushing through.

Thanks. (Smiley face emoji) How's the painting going? Evan's nerves suddenly calmed and he was in much better spirits. He found it amazing how much he still relied on Connor for emotional support.

It's coming along.

Can I see it yet? Evan inquired, hoping to be granted a peek.

You know the answer to that. Same as when I asked if I could read your essay in advance. LoL.

Alright fair enough (laughing emoji). K, I think I'd better go to sleep. Gotta get up early in the morning.

True. Sucks. Can't wait for the weekend.

Same.

SYT. Stay strong.

Thx for the talk. SYT! Evan replied.

Good Nite!

Good Nite.

(Asleep emoji)

When the conversation ended, Evan felt more relaxed. Connor was so easy to talk to and it just seemed like he didn't have to say much to be totally understood. It was really Connor that gave him the strength to fight, to exist, and to be the best version of himself. Evan had a lot to be thankful for and Connor was on top of that list. He would return back to his essay in a better place and mentality tomorrow. There was no treading lightly on a subject matter that would mark the most defining moment in his life. He had to go at it headlong and at full speed even if he would come out a damaged and shattered mess. But he didn't have to be afraid of that because Connor would be there to pick up all the pieces and put him back together. Evan stared at the ceiling in the darkness of his room and smiled. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

The next day came in like a lion, due to his late night, but he hoped the rest of the day would go out like a lamb. He couldn't guarantee it, but he hoped there wouldn't be another emotional episode. Though if it happened again, he would know to stop immediately and take a break. Being a senior nearing the last semester of high school had its perks. There was less schoolwork, less classes, and more time free time opened up. Most kids were spending said free time doing one of two things - preparing for college or just wasting it away partying. For Evan and Connor, they had never been the outgoing, social butterfly, partying type so wild parties with booze and loose girls didn't interest them. It was just not their scene. When school ended early for the day, Evan went over to Connor's house, and they worked on their projects. It had to be Connor's house, particularly the garage, because that was where Connor set up his studio easel, paints, and canvas. Evan used a small card table as a desk. While Evan tapped away at his keyboard, the sounds of careful brush strokes scrapping against canvas filled the air as Connor worked at his painting. They were both happy doing the things they enjoyed the most.

And when it was time for a break, they both retreated to the kitchen, where Cynthia always seemed to be ready with freshly baked cookies. It was a different kind of cookie each day, and sometimes, it was a brownie or a fruit tart. Evan's favorite were the butterscotch cookies, where he could easily eat five at one sitting. Cynthia beamed with delight and made sure to pack some for him to bring home.

At home, Evan continued his journey on paper, or this case - on computer screen. He was able to get through the most difficult parts and tell the rest of his story. In conclusion, he told the reader that not only was the day that he climbed that tree and deciding to let go the very moment that changed his life thereafter, but he came to a realization of accepting the fact that he made a mistake. That mistake was believing that nobody cared that he was alone, and that if he reached out, no one would come.

He explained that Connor had given him a gift – he showed him that he wasn't alone, that nobody was. And Connor proved it by being there at a time when Evan was so broken, defeated, hopeless, and emotionally troubled. Evan told how relieved he felt when he realized he didn't have to face life's scary moments alone, that someone came and understood, that he was not forgotten, and that someone would've definitely noticed if he disappeared. True friends like Connor were rare and hard to come by in a lifetime, but Evan was thankful and blessed such a person somehow inadvertently entered his life.

He summarized his final message to his dear readers - For those who feel they were lost in a world of darkness, where they believed so surely that nobody cared, where being consumed by loneliness was a way of life, where hope was impossible, where every day seemed like a fight they were losing – no matter what they were feeling and how horrible things were, no one is alone. No one. None of us. When we're broken on the ground, exhausted in spirit, and too weak to walk - and all we really needed was someone to carry us, all we have to do is just reach out our hand and someone will come running. Lift up our heads and look around, because we will be found.

When Evan hit that final period key on his keyboard, he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. He grinned satisfactorily at his work. Then his grin disappeared because he wasn't completely done yet. He realized he needed a working title for his essay. It hadn't occurred to him as he was writing the essay, but now that he thought about it, he needed a really good one that suited his essay. And for the first time, his mind drew a blank. Appearing deep in thought, he was staring at a small crack on the wall and drummed his long fingers upon his desk. His eyes travelled to that beautiful coffee-table book "Pictures of the Most Amazing Trees" again. He smiled at his most prized possession and stared at the cover photo of the oak tree, asking it for inspiration. And instantly, it came to him – another "aha" moment. Evan found it very ironic that this very book helped initiate the beginning, and now, it helped finalized the end. Seeking guidance from the trees, was how Connor referred to it, and it worked. Evan quickly went to the top of his essay and typed in a title. He smiled widely. It was perfect.

Evan spent the next whole day eagerly editing and proof-reading his essay. He was quite satisfied with his work after spell and grammar checking, re-wording, deleting, inserting, and formatting. It was now presentable for reading. He hit the print key and waited for the papers to spit out of the printer.

The day after that, Connor was over at Evan's house after school. They were at the dining room table with laptops and books spread out. Opened cans of soda and half eaten bags of chips were sporadically placed. The boys sat across from each other and had their laptops open. Evan was supposedly starting on a second essay for a different no-so-interesting contest, and Connor was reading, which he often liked to do, and occasionally surfed the web.

"So, where is it? Can I read it? It's done, right?" Connor asked finally, referring to Evan's essay.

"Well, yea." Evan said nervously. Something that he was so proud to write and present, suddenly became a bit too personal show. He was scared to allow someone to read something so private. Maybe it was a fear of being judged or the fact that someone else would know what he felt. But this was Connor and there wasn't anything he didn't already know. Still, his confidence grew smaller and smaller. Perhaps this was a bad idea to begin with – perhaps the whole thing sucked.

"What's the matter?" Connor saw Evan's reluctance.

"Umm…it-it's finished." Evan rummaged through his backpack and found the folder. From it, he yanked out a few pages of paper held together by a staple on the corner. He clutched it in his hands, not sure he wanted to let go of it.

"Great! Let's see it." Connor was enthusiastic, holding a hand out.

"It's like this, Connor…" Evan stammered apprehensively. "I'm not sure if it's that good. I mean, I don't know if this'll upset anyone. I-I…..you might think it's awful."

"What?! Nonsense. I know your style of writing. You're truthful, candid, and always articulate. It's not going to be bad. Besides, you promised I'd be the first one to read it." Connor said.

"I-I don't know about this. Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't know if I'm confident enough to show this."

"I'll be the judge of that. And I'll give you my completely honest opinion – no sugar-coated just because you're my best friend." Connor joked.

"Connor, you're in it." Evan gasped. He looked horrified as he gripped the papers like as if his life depended on it.

"I know. I think I have to be. Come on, hand it over." Connor was still holding out his hand ready to take the papers.

"Consider yourself warned. You're gonna hate it." Evan cried and placed the papers quickly in Connor's hand.

"I doubt that, but we shall see…" Connor eyed Evan humorously and received the papers. He turned it around and glanced over the neat Calibri font, double spaced format, and a very official looking heading. He was pleased with the length. It didn't appear too short nor too long. The thickness of the papers felt correct in his hand. Connor started at the top and he gave out a sudden delighted laugh.

"What?!" Evan gulped. He was a nervous wreck.

"Oh, nothing. I really love your title! It's so clever. Fits so well with your theme." Connor gushed. Then he read the title out loud and clear. "Falling Far From The Tree."

Upon hearing it spoken out loud, Evan realized how great it really did sound. It sort of defined him and his story. It was apparent how far he indeed fell from that tree. He wasn't an acorn or an apple that aimlessly fell and landed close to the tree. He was a human being with free will and real intensions. But he never imagined how his life changed because of that one instance. The act of letting go. The desire to die. He could've easily broken his neck from the fall and died instantly, but he didn't. An act of God. God spared him and only gave him a broken arm – a broken arm that would later propel him into a whirlwind of emotions and realizations – epiphanies, if you will.

"You think so?" Evan smiled a little.

"It's totally perfect. Love that. See, it's off to a good start already." Connor replied optimistically.

Connor made no conversation thereafter, which was what he usually did when he read. He liked to immerse himself in whatever he was reading and did not want to be disturbed. Evan felt awkward just there and waiting, so he made himself useful and dove back into that new essay he was writing. It was a distraction and gave him something to get his mind off of Connor reading his essay. The keys clacked away for a while but the silence in the room was killing him. He could hear Connor occasionally turning a page. Several times, Evan looked up from his laptop to study Connor's facial expressions. But he couldn't detect any positive or negative tones. Connor had his eyes turned downward, reading, absorbing every word. Aside from an occasional furrowed brow here and there, no other gives were apparent. Evan went back to his keyboard, feeling like he already knew what Connor was going to say – that it was a mess.

After some minutes later, Evan noticed Connor flipping over the last page of the essay, as he finished reading it. Evan looked up to see Connor's reaction of approval or disapproval. He half expected Connor to scream at him and demand to know what kind of garbage he was writing. But to his surprise, Connor lowered the paper to reveal tears brimming in his eyes. He gave up trying to hold them back and tears tracked down his face in a slow stream. He let out a strangled sob as he feverishly brushed away his tears. His chin shook and more tears spilled out. He desperately needed to compose himself, but it was difficult. Evan only stared in awe. He didn't know what to think, so he just waited for Connor's verdict.

"What-what are you gonna do with this essay?" Connor said when he found his voice. It was shaky and faltering.

"Um….I'm gonna burn it. That's what I'm gonna do. Burn it." Evan answered, looking so comical that it made Connor laugh as a few final tears fell from the corner of his eyes.

"Like hell, Evan. You're going to do no such thing. I'm gonna tell you what to do with this essay. You are going to submit this son of a bitch."

"Why? It's horrible." Evan watched as Connor struggling to gain composure. He noticed Connor's hands were trembling slightly.

"Horrible?! This is not horrible! This…this is brilliant. Fucking brilliant!" Connor wiped a tear away.

"But why are you crying? I hurt you. I did. I-I'm sorry." Evan shook his head.

"Oh, you think I'm crying because I'm upset?" Connor smiled with eyes gleaming. "No, that's not it. I've never read anything so emotionally forward. It's touching and moving, honest, real, and sympathetic. The best thing about it is that I can relate to your experience. It's like you described exactly how I felt. I lived through you in that essay. I think most people could find some part of that story to relate to. Your fight was a hard and challenging one – one that you almost didn't win. But you've expressed it in such a way that I, the reader, get to take something inspirational away from it. It's so easy to feel alone, but you're exactly right - we're not alone. So, no, I'm not upset. It's the opposite, Evan. I'm crying because by reading this essay, I feel like someone gets me – someone completely understands and finally gets me."

Evan was taken back with the little speech. "Still, I can't submit it."

"You're definitely going to submit it. I'm going to make sure you do. The prize is ten grand. You know how far that's gonna go? Very far…" Connor said adamantly.

"It-it's not about the money. Don't you get it, Connor? If this wins first place, this essay is going to be published in a literary journal. It's there for anyone to read."

"Oh, so now you really do think you have a chance at winning first place! I underestimated your ego." Connor taunted and laughed wholeheartedly.

"I'm serious! I'm not saying that I'll win. But in the rare instance that I might, you have to think of the consequences. This is going to expose you. Your whole story is going to come out. Anyone who reads it, will know. It's too risky. I can't use you to get ahead. I won't."

"You've worked at this for weeks. I've seen you. You've put your blood, sweat, and tears into this and now you're just going to scrap it? Just like that? Why? Because you think by writing the absolute truth that you'd be betraying me?" Connor was teary eyed again. "Evan! Don't you see that by writing this essay, you've not only told your story, but you've also told mine? You've set my record straight. You've explained the true me. It's more than anyone has ever done. I'm not the thug that everyone thought I was. I'm not a drug addict. I'm not a criminal. I mean, yea there were some very dark, private moments in there, but they were genuine. You paint me up to be this savior, even though I hardly see myself as one. Not even close. I don't deserve to be put up on a pedestal. Especially since I only played a small part. It was really you, Evan, who saved me."

"I-I just don't want to hurt you. It was never my intention."

"I know you would never hurt me. And I'm not worried about the exposure." Connor said. "I used to be, but not anymore. I need to let it go."

"I don't know…."

"This essay is a work of art. Not gonna let you trash it. Evan, look at me." Connor noticed Evan was avoiding eye contact. He looked so remorseful and guilty. Evan reluctantly looked up at Connor. "Remember what you wrote in that letter? You said you wished to be part of something, and that you wished anything you said mattered to anyone? Well, this essay that you wrote – this is part of something huge. The things you said in it – its stuff that matters to everyone. You and me - we're not the only ones that feel this way. There are others out there who need to hear and read your story, so they'll know that someone understands and that they're not alone. Everyone needs to see this. They just need to take ten minutes, this will make their day. They'll pass it on and share it with the people they love. Because of this, you are heard. We are heard. You gave us a voice by writing this."

Evan hadn't thought of it that way. But it was true. All he ever wanted was to be heard. His face softened up.

"I mean, if you end up winning first place, it's great. It'll be printed and reach out to people far and wide. If you don't win, it's okay too. You just continue doing what you're doing. You got it out there and gave it your best. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But in my personal opinion, your essay has great potential to win, and I'm not just saying that. I don't think anyone else would write something so personal, intimate, and close to home. This is your chance to shine and I'm going to make sure you take it." Connor said. Then he smiled. "Oh my God, I never thought your essay would have such a big impact on me. I fucking, literally, cried."

Evan chuckled.

"So, here's the plan - you're going to submit the essay today. I'm going to stand behind you and watch you hit that send button. I ain't leaving until you do. I swear, I'll submit it myself if I have to." Connor reprimanded.

"Alright." Evan said. "Are you sure?"

"Never been surer." Connor answered.

As Evan hit that send button finalizing the submission of the essay to The Edgar Allan Poe Essay Writing Competition, he felt an elated sense of excitement, joy, fear, relief, and unease. Things were going through his head. He wasn't sure what or how he should feel. He felt torn. He wanted to feel excited and proud because he created this meaningful, honest piece of writing that was close to his heart. And that he had a vessel, an incentive, an opportunity to both educate and show others the importance of mental health. Yet after all this, there was an ounce of him that felt horrified and worried that it wasn't good enough, that he had failed, and made a mockery of himself thinking he actually had the talent. It also worried him that if he actually won, it was going to be published, and people were going to read it. Evan never had anything published anywhere. It was a very scary thought. And if that happened, there would be no way his mom was not going to know about it. And she would want to read it and show it off to anyone. Heidi was going to know everything. Evan wanted to win, because it would stroke his ego and prove that he was an exceptional writer, and the prize money would've been the icing on the cake. But all that came with a hefty price, a consequence, a downside, an aftermath. This was a nightmare. Evan started regretting ever hitting that "send" button.

By the end of May, Evan had accepted the fact that he got the ball rolling and whatever was going to happen next was up to fate itself. Connor often laughed at Evan for being a silly goose. But it was also Connor who talked Evan out of his anxiousness and reminded him that only good could come out of this experience, because either way, they learned something from this. Evan had expressed himself openly and honestly and came to acknowledge what he'd done and what happened afterwards. He had bravely set his feelings straight and hid nothing. It was a proud moment, a huge step, a reconciliation with his past. Connor advised Evan to refocus on writing other essays for other contests in the meantime. As Connor said, "You have to cast your net farther, if you're gonna catch more fish." And so, Evan started casting his net farther.

Things were going well for a while. Evan was writing about his views on global warming, social issues, and even dabbling on personal growth. The essay prompts all had different criteria. Length ranged from as little as 250 words to 7,000 words. Prizes ranged anywhere from $50 to $5,000. None were near as grand as The Edgar Allan Poe Essay Writing Competition. Some topics were inspiring, and some were just plain boring. Evan had to admit that although he wrote, his heart was not invested in any of those subjects. He felt a bit numb writing those other ones when the one he kept thinking about was the one he already submitted.

Evan sorely wanted to see the painting that Connor had been continuously working on, but being that it wasn't finished yet, he refrained from asking. Connor was a perfectionist when it came to art. He took his time and liked to be accurate. Every stroke of the brush had a purpose. The only hint he gave Evan was that it was a very thought-provoking, mind-stirring, inspirational piece, which to Evan, could mean anything.

Thereafter, Evan spent his time obsessively checking his mailbox at least three times every day. On Fridays and Saturdays, he practically sat on the steps to his house waiting for the postman to deliver the mail. He was waiting for the letter that would seal his fate. How could his happiness depend on one simple letter? But then he remembered that letter he wrote to himself and answered his own question.

The Hansen residence received all sorts of mail - bills, notices, junk mail, catalogs, flyers and advertisements, but no letter for Evan. He waited impatiently thinking the best, then thinking the worst. He figured no news was good news, which meant the judges were still in the deliberating stage. So, there was still hope. But then if no letter was received at all, could did this mean they never got his entry, though he was positive he filled out all the forms correctly, attached the essay and hit send. Connor was witness to all that, plus there was a "submission success!" confirmation email afterwards. Unless the judges thought it was so bad that they trashed it immediately. Evan was going crazy.

It was early June when it happened. The usual stack of mail came. Evan anxiously flipped through it and his heart sank when he came across one in a very professional-looking heavy weight letter envelope. It had Evan's full name and address typed on the front. The return address on the corner was also typed in the same font and it read "The Edgar Allan Poe Literary Society". Evan placed the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter and brought that one piece of mail with him to his room. He should be tearing it open with his teeth because the suspense had been driving him nuts for weeks. But now that the answer was right there in his hands, he didn't feel a desire to know. He put the unopened letter on his desk. Nerves and panic pricked at his skin. He could feel his breath quicken and his hands getting clammy. He got up and paced his room in circles. He sat down on the edge of his bed, got up, sat back down, got up again, paced some more, and stared at the envelope on his desk. Evan let a whole hour slide by before mustering up enough courage to finally take up that envelope.

Evan sat down at his desk and slit open the envelope with a letter opener. In the envelope was a single sheet of paper folded twice in horizontal thirds – very business legit. Whatever it said, was probably very to the point. Evan figured he needed to prepare himself for failure. He couldn't be too hopeful. He imagined seeing the words … "Dear Entrant, We formally regret to inform you that your essay has not been chosen to be on our winners list." Evan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He never thought he would be thinking that standing on top of that boulder ready to jump off was way less nerve-wracking than opening this letter. The yearning for approval, for success, for recognition, for a voice – it was so much more terrifying. He wanted to get it over with.

Evan pulled the paper out of the envelope and unfolded it. There was just one paragraph of text on it. Evan began reading it carefully. His heart was pounding fiercely against his chest. As he read it, his eyes watered and soon enough, he was sobbing. When he finished, he read it again to let the realization sink in, and just to be sure he hadn't read it wrong. He took a moment to wipe his tears away with the palms of his hands. He caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror that hung next to his closet door. He saw a lanky fellow with slightly hollow cheeks, a mop of semi-curly light brown hair, and a long awkward neck clutching a piece of paper. He'd never seen anyone so average, yet so different at the same time. He needed Connor's comfort so badly right then. Evan pulled himself together and took off towards Connor's house.

Evan found Connor in the garage. The door to the garage was pulled opened to air out the smells from the paints. Connor had the front of the painting facing the wall so no one was able to see it except the artist himself. He had on a painter's smock and was dipping paint brushes into a jar of water when he saw Evan approaching. He set down his brushes, took off his smock and hung it on the easel. He was ever so glad to see his friend. As Evan came closer, he realized something was wrong. Evan had a troubled look on his face and his eyes were red, like as if he'd been crying.

"What's wrong?" Connor pressed, sensing something happened. Evan breathed in-and-out loudly, and paced in front of Connor nervously, not knowing what to do with himself. "What? You're freaking me out." Connor demanded.

"This. This arrived." Evan pulled out a rumpled envelope from his pocket.

"Is that…."

"Yea." Evan interrupted. He handed the envelope to Connor, who took it. Connor studied Evan's drawn face curiously. His eyes were big and glassy, full of tears. Suddenly, Connor had a bad feeling.

"Oh, Evan. No way." Connor said sadly, assuming the worst had happened. His heart felt broken. Evan worked so hard on that essay and Connor was sure it would be a hit.

"Read it." Evan's voice cracked badly.

Connor pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it carefully. As he read the first sentence, his eyes narrowed in concentration, then widened in delight, then his mouth twisted into a huge smile. His face lit up and eyes danced with elation as he quickly read the rest of the letter.

"Evan! You won first place! YOU WON FIRST PLACE!" Connor hollered ecstatically. His voice was a high-pitched excited squeak. He looked up at Evan and laughed. "You really had me fooled. With the look on your face, I thought it was bad news. Oh my God! You won! You fucking won!" He was flabbergasted, deliriously happy, completely floored, and slapping Evan proudly on the back right then, like their team scored the big touchdown.

Connor expected both of them to be hysterically jumping up and down, and cheering, but apparently, he was the only one doing the celebrating. Evan only stood there motionless, letting the tears flow down his face in steady streams. He struggled for air as his breathing hitched. The tears just wouldn't stop. It left Connor confused because it looked like Evan was more upset than glad.

"But why are you crying? First Place! This was what you wanted, wasn't it? It was our goal, right?" Connor inquired, lowering his voice.

"I don't know." Evan sobbed. He sounded conflicted. "I can't believe it."

"Oh, I can. I can definitely believe this. I knew it. I knew you'd win."

"I can't believe they chose mine. Out of thousands of entries around the nation, they chose mine." Evan gasped, as a hiccup from excessive crying surfaced.

"I told you it would make an impact. It's a strong and solid essay expressing a topic that is important to everyone."

"I can't believe it." Evan repeated in disbelief.

"Oh, you're just in shock." Connor said humorously. "I know. You need some time to digest all this. You need to sit? You look like you're about to faint or vomit. Need some water?" He joked. Evan shook his head.

"It's just….wow." Evan touched his forehead with the palm of a hand.

"Do you know what this means?" Connor was smiling again.

"Yea, it's gonna be published." Evan cried in horror.

"No, you won ten grand! You're rich!" Connor gushed.

"Connor, I'm serious." Evan looked so scared. "Everyone's gonna know."

"I think the only everyone that you're worried about is just your mom. You don't really care about anyone else knowing."

Evan nodded and buried his face in his hands.

"This is probably for the best. Were you going to keep all this from her forever?"

"Maybe." He grumbled.

"Evan, you know that it's the whole package, right? The pros and the cons. We already weighed it all out before we committed. We knew what would happen if you won. I mean, would it have made you feel better if you'd lost?"

"Well, no. I wanted to win."

"And you did, so this is fantastic!" Connor chirped. "You need to tell your mom you won first place. She is gonna flip."

"I think – I think I need a few days. Just to get myself mentally ready for what's gonna happen."

Connor turned back to the letter. "It says here that they want you to make an appearance. There's going to be an awards ceremony where they will present to you the prize money. Sounds so official. They'd probably want photos with you. And in about a week after that, they're gonna publish your essay and mail you five copies of The Edgar Allan Poe Literary Journal." He looked up. "I want one of those copies and you're gonna autograph it for me." He demanded comically.

"Holy Crap. No amount of Ativan and Lexapro is gonna be enough to suppress my anxiety now." Evan sighed with a quivering breath.

"You are hilarious. I thought you would be a lot happier about this. But you look like you're ready for the slaughterhouse. Come on, Evan. Lighten up. This is the best news we've had in like forever."

"I know. Maybe you're right - I am in shock." Evan admitted nervously. He stared at an oil stain on the floor.

"We need to celebrate. I'd say let's go for a beer, but duh, we're under aged." Connor slapped the palm of his hand on his forehead in jest. "Let's go for a slice, a scoop, or both - whatever you want. My treat."

"I know you mean well. But gosh, I just don't feel like celebrating. This is all so sudden and so traumatic."

"Yea, I'm sure winning 10 grand is very traumatic." Connor rolled his eyes jokingly. "Well, we don't have to celebrate if you don't want to. Rain check is fine."

"Would you mind if we just grabbed a couple of Cokes, some Sour Cream n Onion Ruffles, and just sit at The Boulder for a while?" Evan said.

"Okay, you got it, buddy." Connor said.

Evan told his mom about winning first place in The Edgar Allan Poe Essay Writing Competition about a week from the actual awards ceremony. She of course was thrilled to the bone and proud as a preening peacock for her son. Heidi was even more excited when she found out how much the prize money was worth. By then, she was practically jumping through the roof. This was certainly going to help with tuition. She couldn't be happier, yet she didn't understand why Evan was so calm and collected. He treated this like as if it was no big deal. But it was huge deal for her. She thought this was maybe just one of Evan's many quirks. He downplayed everything. She had so many questions – when did he write this fabulous essay? When did he found out he'd won? Why hadn't he told her sooner? What was the essay prompt? And what was Evan's essay about?

That last question was the kicker. He thought a lot about how he should answer that when asked. Evan realized the awards ceremony only consisted of the acknowledgement and distributing of first, second, and third place winners, along with photo ops with the judges, editors, executives, and directors. There were going to be no readings or content spoilers (It was the way of The Edgar Allan Poe Literary Society. Everything was fresh and under the radar until publication. That was what made them an award-winning journal.) When Heidi insisted on reading his essay, Evan talked her into thinking that reading it from an actual journal made it more official and he would prefer this to reading a bunch of stapled pages. The suspense was agonizing but she finally agreed.

The awards ceremony was held in an assembly hall. There was a small platform stage with dark purple curtains swept back and held with gold tassels. A large banner with the words "The Edgar Allan Poe Literary Society Presents: Our Literary Winners" hung across the back of the stage. There was a table to the side of the stage with certificates set in fancy frames. And right next to that table were a set-up of about seven chairs. The rules limited the number of attendees to two per entrant. So naturally, Evan brought his mom and Connor.

Evan felt like it was graduation all over again, except this was a lot less awkward and way more fun. The people at the Society were very professional, cordial and amiable. Perhaps it was the fact that they were all writers and shared the same interest of the written language. It was like a secret code. There were a lot of handshakes and exchange of pleasantries. Drawing faces to names. Evan was so afraid they might mention about the content of the essay in front of Heidi, but thankfully the details were not brought up. They only mentioned generally about the excellence of the essay and writing techniques.

The ceremony commenced without prolonged speeches or formalities by parties. There was a brief introduction, followed by a short explanation describing the purpose of this annual competition and what the judges were looking for in terms of winning essays. Then they called up the winners starting with third place to collect their framed certificate and prize money. Everyone had equal time to accept the awards, shake hands, and smile for the cameras. When Evan's name was called, he received a standing ovation by the Society. Heidi thought the standing ovation was because Evan was the first-place winner, but actually, it was more than that. The judges and everyone at the Society had read his essay and understood the extreme difficulties this boy had gone through to get to where he was now. The applause wasn't wild like one would expect at the end of a really good performance, but a sort of appreciated, and highly esteemed clapping that signified a strong sense of accomplishment. It was never Evan's intention to try and change the world. He hadn't expected his story would touch so many. Well, maybe Evan did end up changing the world with his essay – if not the world, then perhaps it'll reach someone who really needed to read it. Even if it only saved one person, it would've made it all worthwhile. Evan deserved a standing ovation.

They all shook his hand again and presented him with the certificate and check for $10,000. Evan looked rather sheepish and uncomfortable with all the attention surrounding him. He was not used to being seen or heard. There was a professional photographer that followed them around snapping pictures of Evan with the judges, Evan with the editor-in-chief, Evan shaking hands with the executives, Evan holding the check, group photos with Evan holding the framed certificate, and even one with Evan and his mom, along with Connor. All for the literary winners spread. The Society also treated Connor with the highest regard, because they knew the important role he played in this essay. By the end of that event, Evan was exhausted and glad to finally go home.

Heidi was ever so proud of Evan that she beamed with pride every time she looked at him. Evan loved the attention but knew it would be short-lived once the journal got published. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid of what his mother would think when she knew the truth. Would she be mad at him for lying to her? Would she hate him for doing what he did? Would she forgive him? Would she still be proud of him? Would she still love him?

Then the day came when the publications arrived at his house. It was packed securely in a brown box with tissue paper. It was elegant and emanated sophistication. The journal had a hard cover with a Victorian lace border design. It had a thickness that was more than a magazine, but not yet a book. Evan admired the design. He eventually opened it and found his essay right in the middle of the journal. Right there on page 26 was a large, handsome photo of a tree. A caption above the picture briefly informed this was the essay that took first place in the annual writing competition. Beneath the picture were the words "Falling Far From the Tree" in a beautiful, scripted font. And underneath that title were the words "By Evan Hansen". It was exciting to see his name in print this way. Evan had spoken to the editors about dropping "Mark" from his name, even though it was on all the official records. He had to explain it the same way he had done numerous times for all his teachers in school. He reread the essay that followed and smiled proudly at his achievement.

They were at Evan's house the next afternoon in the middle of a Super Mario Bros. game. The living room floor was littered with cushions, books, sodas, and a scatter of candy wrappers. Connor and Evan were sitting cross-legged side by side. Their eyes were glued to the huge flat screen TV and their fingers were maneuvering strategically on their video game consoles.

"So, do you think she's really gonna read it?" Connor asked as he pressed the up-down keys rapidly.

"Knowing her, probably. She had me bookmark the page with a post-it this morning. She put the journal in her tote bag and promised to read it during her break." Evan replied. "I tell you, this can't end well for me."

"I don't know. On the bright side, maybe she'll gain some insight and understand where you're coming from."

"I doubt it. You don't know my mom."

"Are you afraid she would freak out?"

"It's not that." Evan said, shaking his head.

"Then what?"

"There's no worthy explanation. Nothing can make sense of all these things I've done. When I look at her, words fail." Evan stopped pressing the buttons on the console and just stared at the TV and watched his Luigi run out of lives.

"Evan…" Connor also stopped playing to look at Evan.

"I'm this mess. I want to pretend, so I don't have to face the truth. I don't want her to see the worst of me. This broken, pathetic, lost, needy, and pitiful person. It's why all my life, I've learned to slam on the brake even before I turn the key. My mom seeing the worst, most violent, destructive, version of me. The version she never expects. The version she doesn't know. The true me. What if she knew, would she like what she saw or would she hate me even more?" Evan looked troubled. "So, words fail."

"I don't know how she's going to react to that essay when she finds out everything. But Evan, you kinda let the cat out of the bag already by choosing to write that piece in the first place. I mean, you knew what you were getting into. You wrote it, submitted it, and won! Did you think for a moment that you weren't going to win? I knew from the start, even before you wrote it that you were going to win. You underestimate yourself and you don't know how great you are. But I can see it in you." Connor said. "You can deny it all you want, but there is a part of you – a tiny part – that wants to clue her in on what you've gone through. You don't mean to hurt her by it, you just want her to understand."

Evan stared at the console in his hands and shrugged. "I guess…..but I'm just afraid. Afraid of what she'll think – how she'll see me from now on. If she'll make me see a real shrink and take more meds." He let out an exasperated laugh.

"Of all the emotions she's gonna have, I don't think she'll hate you. She might question her parental instincts, but she can't hate you."

"I should only be so lucky."

"Whatever happens, you have to believe that you'll get through it." Connor advised. "You have to accept that there will be an initial reaction to this news. There'll be shock, anger, sadness, and a need for understanding why you did what you did. You may not have an answer to the 'why' right away, but once you get passed all that, only then things'll get better."

Evan was silent for a minute. He sighed and said, "Connor?"

"Yea?"

"How'd you get to be so smart?" Evan asked rhetorically. "You seem to have answers for things that I wouldn't think to have."

"Well, sometimes you might not see things right away because you're so blinded by the problems in front of you. It takes a different perspective and maybe a little intervention to make you see the truth. So, let's just take this one step at a time."

Evan nodded and smiled.

"How about we get back to rescuing Princess Toadstool?" Connor said. They picked up their consoles and started a new game.

Evan and Connor were in the middle of an intense game of Super Mario Bros. and all problems seemed to be temporarily forgotten as they were staging up, gaining additional lives, and defeating enemies. The degree of animated laughter and kidding around in the room was cut short by a loud slam of the back door. This caused both Evan and Connor to jump up.

"EVAN! Evan, where are you?" It was Heidi. Her demanding voice was a mixture of desperate, anxious, possibly a hint of anger, a touch of uneasiness, and definitely a wave of distress.

"Mom – what's she doing home so early?" Evan spoke to Connor softly.

"I dunno. Maybe she read your essay." Connor whispered back.

"MARK EVAN HANSEN. Where are you?" Heidi hollered.

"Sounds like you're in trouble. She's calling you by your full name."

Evan gave Connor a helpless look before answering back, "In-in here, mom. We're in the living room."

Heidi emerged into the living room to find the boys standing side by side, looking a bit petrified. She was holding her handbag in one hand and a copy of the literary journal in the other hand. Her complexion was white, like as if she'd seen a ghost. A dazed look of stupefaction had washed over her usual jovial face and her lips trembled. Her hair became slightly disheveled in that ponytail. She was still wearing a purple scrub uniform from work. Her shoulders were hunched forward, looking small and truly defeated. Both Evan and Connor were wide-eyed and speechless. They had no idea what was about to happen, and they dared not move an inch.

"Evan. This is all true." She held out the journal. Her voice was tiny, insecure and the sentence sounded like a cross between a statement and a question. Somehow, she hoped there was a logical explanation to the meaning of this. She didn't want this to be her true son. She hoped that Evan, being the exceptional writer that he was, just made this all up to win the contest. There must be some mistake.

It was evident by then that Heidi had read the whole essay. She would not be there if she hadn't. Evan nodded. "I'm s-sorry you had to find out like this. I-I-I didn't know how to tell you and-and there never was a right time." His voice was soft and apologetic. He definitely couldn't look her in the eye.

They all stood there for a moment, deep in thought. Heidi was trying to wrap her mind around what she had just read – that her son had attempted suicide, not once but twice, and almost died, all without her even knowing any of it. Her heart sank when Evan confirmed it. This couldn't be her son. She knew her son really well, or so she thought. But Evan wouldn't lie about something like this.

Connor was quiet because he felt it wasn't his place to say anything. The tension in the room was at an ultimate high and he would give anything to not be there, but he couldn't just abandon Evan. Meanwhile, Evan was waiting for the hammer to fall.

"Mom…" Evan began, not knowing what he should say next, but he felt he needed to break the silence.

Before Evan could say another word, Heidi dropped her handbag and the journal on the couch, and pulled Evan into the tightest, most apologetic, most endearing, and most affectionate hug he had ever felt. After that, she burst into tears.

"I didn't know." She sobbed. "I really didn't know!"

"I'm sorry." Evan folded his arms around his mom and melted into her hug.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for not noticing what was happening to you. I'm so sorry." Heidi blubbered through tears. "How could I have not known? That you did that…. I don't know why I didn't question it. I think in my heart, I suspected it, but I don't know – maybe I just didn't want to believe you broke your arm on purpose. Then to think that you tried again. You must've been so beyond hope, lost, and desperate. I should've seen, it's so obvious now. It all makes so much sense. I keep thinking back and wondered why those people at the literary place were treating you so… so special – like as if they knew something. At first, I thought it was because you were the winner. But now I know. This is really my fault. It's my fault."

"No, it's not. It's my fault." Evan mumbled. "Do you hate me?"

At those words, Heidi released Evan from the hug and cupped both her palms on either side of Evan's face so that he was looking at her directly. Their noses were inches away from each other. "Evan, you listen to me, and you listen carefully. This is not your fault. Never your fault. Do you hear me?" She cried out, with tears robbing her vision.

Evan tried to look away, but Heidi kept his face in her hands and spoke into his eyes. "EVAN, I LOVE YOU. Don't you dare forget that. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are my baby, my whole world. I love you more than anything on this planet. Nothing's ever going to change that." There was so much conviction in those words that Evan's eyes welled up with tears.

Evan opened his mouth to say something, but his mom was not done. "I failed to see that you were struggling all this time. You were so alone and hurting, and you needed me. I wasn't there. I should've been. Maybe I could've prevented all this or maybe not. But if I had only been a better mom and paid attention, it wouldn't have come to this." Her words were rushed and caught up in her sobs.

"You were so busy." Evan whispered. His chin shook and more tears fell.

"That shouldn't have been an excuse. I shouldn't have been too busy for you. I was so focused on making ends meet, getting enough money to put you through college….I didn't see the real problem." Heidi sighed as her eyes brimmed with tears. "I don't know what I would do without you. I can't imagine. And to think, I almost lost you - twice. I didn't know. I didn't know." Heidi pulled Evan into a new hug. She smoothed his hair, put soft kisses on his temple, and cried some more.

"I'm sorry, mom." Evan blubbered. He was crying heavily now. All the emotions and tensions that had been building between him and his mother was released. There was no more walking on eggshells around each other. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you. I was scared of what you'll think of me. Seeing this side of me. The worst possible side."

"You, you are precious. Don't doubt for a moment that there isn't a person in the world who wouldn't know it if you disappeared. Honey, you can tell me anything. Please know that. I promise I'll try to understand. Whatever it is. You tell me, okay?"

Evan nodded his head in her arms. "I love you."

"I know, baby. I just want to hold you and not let go, because you're alive. You're warm, breathing and alive." Heidi squeezed Evan tighter, then it dawned on her that someone else was in the room. Connor was still standing there watching all this unfold. She let Evan go and looked into his eyes, "Are you okay?"

"Yea. Are you?" Evan dried his eyes with the back of his hands.

Heidi stifled a sob and nodded as she quickly thumbed away her tears. She took a breath then turned to face Connor. Connor couldn't decide how to read the look in her puffy, red eyes. There was a twinge of anxiety, a startling mix of compassion, followed by a possible large douse of anguish. Her face was flushed, chin throbbing, and nostrils flared.

"YOU!" Her voice made Connor jump. Heidi's arms were at her sides with hands curled into fists. Her body language screamed aggression. Connor was ready to apologize for keeping all this important stuff a secret, and beg for forgiveness, when she surprised him. She stepped forward, threw her arms around Connor and pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you." She repeated over and over, with new tears resurfacing in her eyes.

"Um." Connor was taken back and stared at Evan, who shrugged and found it amusing. He allowed Heidi to hug the living daylights out of him. Connor awkwardly returned the hug.

"Thank you so much, Connor, for being there for Evan, because if it hadn't been for you – for you being there at that moment…" She breathed an uneasy sigh. "I know how badly this could've all ended. The things that happened, the way Evan was….You don't know how grateful and thankful I am that you were there, that you're his friend. Nothing I do or say can ever repay you for what you did. You saved his life. I owe you everything."

Connor was left speechless. But that was okay because Heidi had more to say. She peeled herself off of Connor and touched his cheek with her fingers. "You are important, Connor. In reading Evan's essay, I feel like I got to know you as well, and your past. I'm sorry you had to go through those things. You've made such a big difference in Evan's life, and in mine."

"I can't take all the credit. Evan saved my life too. He thinks of me so high in that essay. But I'm hardly a saint." Connor said humbly, finally finding his voice.

"The saints weren't perfect. They were just as flawed and human as anyone. But they fought hard to do what's right, just like you. So, in a way, you are like a saint, Connor. You deserve so much. I think I see why you and Evan have such a strong friendship now. Knowing you mirror each other, bonds you." She was still talking through tears.

Connor figured she would be in shock after finding things out, but he never thought she would go so far as to hug him and treat him like some sort of unsung hero. Maybe not everyone would've done what he had. But he knew he couldn't just stand by and watch someone self-destruct in front of him and do nothing about it. Connor was never the one to keep a blind eye to a problem he felt he could fix. That was just who he was. Connor wondered if it was weird to think it was self-full filling and therapeutic to help Evan. Before he knew it, Heidi pulled both boys into a group hug.

"Please don't ever, ever do that again. I don't hate either of you for what you've done and thought to do. You boys are well-loved and appreciated. We need to heal from this. We will heal." Heidi planted a kiss on top of Evan's head, then a kiss on the top of Connor's head.

Eventually, Heidi pulled away from the hug and reached for a tissue from the dispenser on the end table. She composed herself enough to say, "Evan, your essay was genius. I knew you could write, but I didn't know you could write like that. I'm embarrassed to say that it left me extremely impressed, and I shouldn't be impressed. I should've already known. So many things I didn't know."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about everything. I just couldn't. I-I didn't think I could come to you and face you. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I just couldn't." Evan shook his head.

"I feel like there was a reason I had to learn about this in an essay. That's what it took to make me take time out to realize what I've missed and how I can change things." Heidi said. She looked at the boys then said, "Okay. We're going out to dinner. The three of us."

"But mom, you left work early." Evan worried.

"Things are going to be different from now on." Heidi replied. "I'm not working double and triple shifts anymore. I already had a talk with my supervisor. It's going to be Mondays to Fridays, 9 to 6 and that's it. I left early today because my son needs me and I need my son. I wasn't around for you back then, but I have to be here for you now."

"Really?" Evan sounded so innocent and believing.

"Yes, really. So, let me freshen up and I'm taking you both out to dinner tonight." Heidi smiled.

"But don't you two need to talk?" Connor chimed in. "About you know…stuff?"

"Yes, and we will. Later tonight." Heidi answered looking at Evan. "I really do want to have a talk, Evan. I'm not angry with you. I just want to understand some things. You don't have to be afraid, not anymore. I was hoping we could fill in the blanks a little. And we'll only talk about what you're comfortable with telling me."

"Sure." Evan said.

"I hope you boys are hungry. It's going to be a nice place and you can order whatever you want." Heidi said as she headed out of the room.

"It's not the Olive Garden again, is it?" Evan groaned. Heidi turned around with a surprised look.

"Evan! You just won ten thousand dollars, I think we can afford to do better than the Olive Garden." She said amusingly. "We're going to that fancy steakhouse on the avenue."

Evan and Connor watched her disappear into the hallway. "She's referring to Barrington's Steakhouse. She must really feel bad about this."

"Are you okay?" Connor asked.

"Yea, I think so. That was a relief. Went better than I expected though." Evan answered. "Are you okay? It was kinda intense."

"Huh? Yea, I'm okay." Connor replied still reeling from what just happened. "But God, I really thought she was gonna hit me for a moment there." He laughed nervously, causing Evan to chuckle.

"Yea, I thought she was going to hit both of us." Evan admitted.

Evan didn't want to make it apparent that he suddenly felt emotionally drained, but he was. So much that he needed to sit down for a spell and take a sip of water. That was one of the most stressful and emotionally harrowing experiences he had in a while. But in a way, he felt relieved that his mom knew about the tree, about letting go, about his dark thoughts, about the suicide attempts, about Connor coming to get him, about Connor and the pills, about not being alone, about all of it. It really was a lot of weight to carry around and he felt the load had lightened. Of course, there was still a ways to go, but this was a start.

Connor couldn't help but smile, knowing that Evan's situation was turning around – that Evan was finally getting the closure and chance to be part of his family again. Just like Connor, the prodigal son returns. Perhaps the Edgar Allan Poe Essay Writing Competition prompt found its way to Evan's stack of brochures and flyers for a reason. It was fate that drew him to it and fate that compelled him to write his story. It was a domino effect in the best way. The start of the beginning of everything. No one deserved to win the contest more than Evan, and Connor knew it. It was the break that Evan needed. There were reasons why Evan had to write it. He wrote it because he had to give others like him a voice. He wrote it because he needed to do it for himself and his own mental space. He wrote it because he figured the prize money would help with college tuition. All these things were valid, but most importantly, he used it as a medium to reach his mother, because he couldn't find another way to do it. Evan was most comfortable with words on paper as a form of communication and expression. When he wrote, things just flowed, and he was able to tell it exactly like how it was – better than any speech.

End of Chapter 7

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with me on this wonderful ride. One more chapter to go…I think.