It’s raining. Gusts of wind throw water violently against my window as the storm rages outside. Big fat droplets drip down from the roof, pour from the sky and form a miniature river down the street. Usually, a weekend rainstorm like this would encourage me to put on a soft sweater, make hot cocoa and read in front of the fireplace, but today I feel nothing but raw pain. I stare blankly out the window, exactly as I have done for hours, and in the gray morning light I see my reflection gaze dully back at me. My messy hair poofs out around my head and is greasy to the touch, but I don’t care in the slightest. The skin under my eyes sags in a dark purple crescent from a sleepless night and my makeup has run down my face, etching patterns of dark color on the nearly translucent surface. My eyes, now devoid of tears, look hollowly back at me. They are deep, murky, and filled with grief. I know I should shower, I know I should sleep, I know I should get up and stretch my legs...but I can’t.

My fingers slide over the screen of my phone that has been clutched tightly in my hand and make their way to the text message that came in around midnight. I bend over as my stomach cramps and I feel bile begin to rise in my throat as I re-read the letter.

“I’m sorry, Lia. I’m so sorry, but I can’t do this anymore. I tried so hard to make this work, but the depression and the pain just keep pushing me down further every day. I don’t think you ever fully realized what grief can do to a person. I can’t live like this anymore. I just want to be free from the world and be reunited with my parents again. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me, it’s meant so much, and I really will miss you. I promise I will watch you from wherever I end up. I hope and pray this doesn’t hurt you too much. I just know every one's life will be better without me, even yours. You deserve so much more than me. Goodbye Lia...I love you. -Zane”

Zane is gone. He’s not coming back. I put my head in my hands, but am unable to cry anymore, my tears already relinquished by hours past. I have never felt more alone in my life. The one time my parents leave me alone in the house while they take my brother to New York City for a basketball tournament, and my best friend goes and kills himself. I can’t deal with this. How could I possibly cope with this loss? Zane is dead, there is nothing more I can do or say that will save him. I tried my best, and I failed.

I finally stand up and flop myself into my bed to pull the covers up over my head. Hiding away and blocking out the world is the only thing I feel that I can do right now. My heart aches and I can almost feel it shatter into a million pieces inside my chest. The pain is unbearable, and I scrunch my body up into an even tighter ball and squeeze my eyes tightly shut hoping that I will just awake from sleep, and this nightmarish experience. It doesn’t work; this horror is real. How could Zane think that this wouldn’t hurt me this much? I am in utter agony, and I feel as if a sharp knife has been driven into my soul. There is nothing that can relieve this grief and absolute pain. Nothing, except maybe death.

Unlike Zane, I have never wished to die, but now everything is just too overwhelming for me to stand it. If only death would come to me quickly and whisk me away! Her open arms would shroud me in cold eternal sleep, and I could be at peace. The world has collapsed, and I have nothing left to live for, not even my music, the one thing that has always sustained me. Nothing at all can console me now. I shall wait here until silent death comes to claim me. They say that death is a needy, grabby character, snatching souls left and right. She’s already taken Zane, why can’t I die with him?

I close my eyes, breathe in deeply, and stuff my face into the mattress before letting the tears flow freely again. I lie in the soft blankets, sob quietly and hope for some sort of enlightenment to the struggles forced upon me, but not a single resolution comes to mind. The only thing left for me is death, and I pray that I will be relieved from this torture by it soon.

•••

I think I must have dozed off for a few minutes, because the next thing I know, Haydn’s Horn Concerto No. 1 is blaring from my phone. I jump out of my daze and snatch it from my bedside table, hoping that it’s Zane, or the police, or someone who will help me. The number at the top of my screen is unfamiliar, so I hover my finger over the ‘decline call’ button, unsure of whether to pick up or not. Against my better judgement, something deep down in my gut is telling me that the call is important, so I answer anyway.

“Hello?”

“Lia?” The voice on the other end is female and sounds worried and agitated. “Is this Lia Klein?”

“Yeah...” I say, wondering how this strange lady knows my name. “that’s me.”

“This is Clara Lawde......Zane’s sister?”

Zane’s sister. I gulp and try to steady myself. Clara surely has the information that I’ve been longing for. “Yes?” I say.

“Lia, first of all, thank you for calling the police after you got Zane’s note, it may not have saved him, but it means a lot that that you took that action. I also saw all the messages that you left on his phone and I can tell that you care a lot about him which is why I’m calling you now.”

“Thank you.” I say tearfully, because even to my shattered heart, this call touches me.

“Zane did attempt to kill himself. He threw himself off of the Graden bridge about fifteen minutes after he sent you the note. The water was freezing, only about thirty-five degrees, and the current was really strong and it dashed him up against the fishing rocks once he floated downstream. That’s where the police found him. Zane didn’t have a chance, Lia.” Clara’s voice crackles and I can hear her muffled sobs over the phone. “He’s still alive, but only just. There’s really no chance that he’ll survive, but the doctors say they’re doing the best that they can. I just wanted to tell you that if you want to say goodbye, you better come quickly, because Zane is slipping away as I speak. He’s at the Albany Memorial Hospital, intensive care. Please come, Lia, it would mean a lot to me....and Zane.”

“I will,” I whisper before ending the call so that Clara can’t hear the battle that now rages between my heart and my brain.

•••
My heart says that I should go and see Zane and say goodbye, no matter how difficult, but my brain says differently. It’s telling me that I should just stay here and wallow in my despair, because watching Zane die will only make things worse for me. There is no easy answer. Unsure of what to do, I pull up the Facebook app on my phone and find my favorite picture of the two of us, hoping for some inspiration. Taken after our jazz ensemble won state championships last April, it is the only picture where Zane actually looks happy with himself. We’re in our black formal wear and we both have our gold medals around our necks. He’s laughing in glee with his arms around my shoulders and we’re smiling up at each other, faces flushed with excitement. I stare at the picture, at Zane’s joyful face, and I know that no matter how hard it is, I am going to the hospital to say goodbye to my best friend. I can’t just leave him there to die without me. For the past year and a half we’ve nearly always been together and I want to be with him as he leaves this world.
Feeling suddenly freer, I stand up, put my phone back in my pocket, stretch, and yawn. It’s going to be a long day. I quickly run my fingers through my vile hair and cringe at the slimy texture. I have no time to freshen up, much as I’d like to.

I dash down the stairs, throw on my black pea-coat, snatch my car keys from over the microwave and head out into the freezing December rain. The icy drops run down my face, and I bend to avoid them until I’m sitting in my red Ford pickup, already soaking wet.
I jam my keys in the ignition and head out onto the road. There’s almost no traffic downtown, which is odd this close to Christmas, but I don’t care because that means that I can get to Albany faster. It’s a two hour drive from here in Graden, but it’s possible to shave about a half hour off if I ride a bit above the speed limit. With the roads clear, I should make it to the hospital in time.

•••
I pull onto the ramp past the strip mall to get onto the New York Interstate, and I gasp in dismay. The highway is completely flooded; huge, shining puddles stretch across the four lanes and spill into the forest on the other side. I gulp and slowly inch the car forward. So much for getting to Albany quickly. A few cars crawl along through the mini lake and I timidly press the accelerator to join them. The truck jumps and bounds out into the lane, splashing water all over the windows to join the raindrops already gathered there. Carefully, I ease the pickup into second gear and begin my journey. Large waves of mucky water rise up on the sides of the car, and I watch the speedometer carefully, making sure I don’t go above thirty so that I don’t hydroplane and crash the car. I sigh deeply. At this rate, I probably won’t make it to Zane in time, but I have to try. If I turn around now, I’ll never forgive myself.

•••
I plow through the flooded highway for almost three hours before I hit the traffic jam. Still several miles away from my destination, I have to slow and stop behind a very long line of cars. I roll down my window and crane my neck to try and see what’s up ahead. Not much is visible through the torrential downpour, but I can just make out the flashing blue lights of police cars much farther down the road. The line of cars stretches for at least a mile, and none of them are moving. Fuming, I pull my soaking head back inside the car and angrily slam my fist down on the car horn. There’s no way that I’ll get to Zane before he dies and I’ll never be able to say my final goodbye to him while he can still hear me.
Thoroughly depressed, I turn off the truck and flip on the radio to pass the time while I wait for traffic to move again. I twist the dial to find my favorite pop station, but am dismayed to find that the song it’s playing at the moment is “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry. I used to love that song, I even learned how to play it really well on the piano, but now it just makes me think of Zane, and how he is dying young today. I turn off the radio and sigh deeply. This has been a terrible day all around. I miss Zane so much already, and I haven’t even said goodbye to him yet. I just hope that I get the chance to do that. I lean back in my seat, close my eyes and let the memories that I’ve been holding back all day wash over me as the rain drums a heartbeat on the roof.

•••

My first day of school at Graden High. I feel kind of nervous and shy after what happened during freshman year over in Syracuse, but Graden is fine so far. My first few classes this morning have been ok, but I’m really happy to get to wind ensemble, ready to play music, and feel like I belong again.

I get my music and french horn from my new locker and sit down where the band director, Ms. Hubert, tells me to. I tune, do a very quick warm up and rifle through the sheets of music on my stand. I’m dismayed to find that none are particularly difficult. I sigh. Such is life. Behind me I hear the trumpets and trombones going through their various warm up routines and I listen intently trying to pick up any little helpful tricks by ear. Suddenly, I feel a sharp jab on my shoulder as the trombonist behind me accidentally goes beyond seventh position with his slide.

I turn around and look at the musician in question. “Hey!” I say jokingly, “What was that for?”

“Sorry about that. My bad.” He looks straight into my eyes and I feel a shiver run up and down my spine. Not a bad one, either.

“Are you new here? I’m Zane, by the way.”

“Lia.” I say carefully, and blush before glancing away. Zane is the first person that I’ve actually had a conversation with so far today, and I’m feeling a bit sheepish. Plus, it just so happens that Zane is a human of extreme cuteness. He looks as if he’s fairly tall, and he’s got thick dark hair that sweeps over his forehead. His skin is as pale as mine is, and he’s very solidly built, but not overweight at all. His mouth turns up just slightly as he talks to me and his eyes entice me with their forlorn penetrating gaze. I turn my head to look back into his face again. “And yeah...I’m a new student. So be nice!” I laugh and toss my long auburn hair before turning back around as I see Ms. Hubert step up to the podium. She starts talking about grading policies and concerts and jazz bands and I sort of half listen while I wait impatiently to play. Finally, we pick up our instruments and start to warm up. The warm, rich, full sound of my french horn soars over the rest of the band, and I feel fully content for the first time today. The rest of the band sounds pretty good too, especially since it’s only our first day of rehearsal. Soon however, the flutes have trouble with some high notes and I sit back in my seat to relax for a moment, running through fingerings furiously.

Suddenly a voice whispers in my ear.

“Meet me after band, OK? At lunch?”

Zane. I smile to myself and give him a thumbs up sign over my shoulder to acknowledge that I heard him. I can barely contain my excitement; I think that I have made a new friend.

---

After band class is dismissed, I go and put my french horn in my locker, fiddle with my hair a bit and go find Zane in the cafeteria. He’s sitting on a bench by the large windows instead of at a table with other people which strikes me as slightly odd. Perhaps he’s just feeling lonely. I sit down next to him, and take out my lunch: A small green salad, water, and a piece of crusty baguette. “Yum.” I say, biting into the bread.

“Lia!” Zane exclaims, surprising me a little. “That’s no lunch! Where’s your meat? Where’s your protein?”

I giggle just a little before replying. “I’m a vegan, silly. No meat for this girl! I’ve never eaten animal products, not once in my whole life.”

“To each her own, I suppose.” Zane says and sighs before smiling back at me. He really is super hot when he smiles. “So, Lia. Tell me about yourself. What brings you here to this dump of a town, and joke of a school?”

“Oh. Well...” My voice trails off as I try and think of where to begin. “Technically, I’m a sophomore, but I’m mostly taking junior and senior classes. I’ll probably graduate next year instead of in two years because I’ll have enough credits. Up until about two weeks ago I lived in Syracuse, which I liked until last year. Freshman year was simply awful for me. I was harassed and bullied every day by both members of my own class and upperclassmen. Rumors swirled around about me: that I was a backstabber and secretly hated my friends, that because I never had a boyfriend I was therefore a lesbian, even that I was plotting to kill our class president. Just awful stuff like that, and none of it true. It got so bad that I didn’t feel safe at school, I was pushed and punched and verbally abused and even received several death threats every single day! I told guidance and the principal about it but they did nothing. So I told my family that I couldn’t go to school there anymore because of my social problems, and we packed up and moved here, to Graden, in the middle of August.”

“Sheesh, Lia! That sucks!”

“Yeah...” I sigh before continuing. “My parents were all right with the move though. My dad’s company has a firm close to here so that’s where he’s working now.”

“Well that’s good.” Says Zane, nodding his head. “So what’s your connection with music? You’re a wicked good horn player.”

“Ha. Thanks. Actually, I’m considered something of a family disappointment because I love music and I’m not into sports at all, unlike my parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and every other member of my extended family. My younger brother is adored because he’s a total jock, but they don’t really care about what I do, they are really just obsessed with sports. It doesn’t stop me from following my dream though. All I’ve ever wanted to do was perform on french horn and actually...” I turn my head to hide my face because I can feel the color rising in my cheeks. “I’ve already been accepted into Julliard.”

Zane’s mouth hangs open, gaping in astonishment. “Damn, Lia! You must be freaking amazing!” He shakes his head and breathes out heavily. “You’re going to be Ms. Hubert’s new favorite, most definitely.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Anyway, enough about me. What about you, Zane?”

His face darkens. “It’s a long story, Lia. All you need to know right now is that I, too, am a musician. Trombonist to be specific, but you obviously already know that. Again, I’m sorry about my slide hitting you in band class.”

I shrug off his apology with a wave of my hand. “No problem.”

“Other than that, I’m a senior, and I really like being one of the oldest in the school. It’s fun so far. There’s not much else about me that I can explain quickly. Maybe I can tell you the other stuff....someday. Just not now.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Fine.” I say dramatically, and pack up my lunch. The bell signaling that it’s time to go back to our work rings obnoxiously, and I say a quick goodbye to Zane before heading off to my physics class.

---
The next couple of months go by fairly quickly. I make a bunch of new friends in the band, although Zane remains the best of them. I audition and make the top jazz band as the pianist, hold my position as the principle french horn in the wind ensemble, and begin to practice with the pit band for the school’s musical, Wicked. I eat lunch with Zane every day, and we often go and grab a coffee together after jazz rehearsals. I still don’t know much more about him than I learned on the first day of school, but I’m fine with waiting. I know that Zane will tell me about his past because he promised that he would, and Zane never breaks a promise.
In January we start intensive pit rehearsals every evening which are actually quite fun. We’ve got about ten dedicated musicians playing, including Zane, and we have a good time playing together. One rehearsal though, he walks in about an hour late, his face dark and cloudy like a storm before it breaks. He mumbles “Family emergency.” to Ms. Hubert, and crashes through the rest of the band to get to his seat, obviously angered. I turn around in my seat to ask if he’s all right, but he just scrunches up his face and shakes his head sorrowfully at me.

---
Once rehearsal finishes, I corner Zane backstage, and am startled to notice that he’s crying quietly.
He does a nervous jump as I approach and turns around sharply. “Lia! Oh god, I don’t want you to see me like this.” He tries to run past me, but I hold up my hand to block his way of escape.
“No.” I shake my head firmly. “Zane, tell me what’s going on.”
He slumps against the wall and buries his face in his hands before he speaks, and when he does his voice is rather husky.
“I guess I’m going to have to tell you sometime...” He pauses slightly to wipe a stray tear from his eyes. “The summer before my junior year...I lost both of my parents. My dad was diagnosed with the final stages of pancreatic cancer, and he died six weeks after they found the tumors. My mom loved him dearly and died of a grief induced heart attack five days later, right after the funeral.” He stops for a moment and looks at me, the tears glistening on his pale face. “I have one sister, Clara, who’s five years older than me. She became my legal guardian after my parents passed, and we’ve had a stable brother-sister relationship ever since. And then today, my eighteenth birthday, I came home from school and she told me to pack up my things and leave her sight. I found shelter at the house of an old family friend, but it’s just not home. I’m so depressed and sad all the time, Lia, and you’re so strong, upbeat and perfect. I didn’t want to tarnish your light by putting my burden on you, and that’s why I’ve kept my history about my parents, and therefore my despair to myself for so long. I’m sorry Lia.”
“No.” I whisper. “Don’t be. Believe me Zane, I can handle it .”
He stares with watery eyes into my face for a moment before opening his arms and enveloping me in a hug. His body is a solid presence that wraps around me in his embrace, and I can’t help but feel safe and protected in his arms, even though today, Zane’s the one crying on my shoulder.
Finally, Zane pulls away and wipes his eyes and breathes out long and heavily. “My mum would have loved this show.” He says while looking off in the distance. “Wicked was always her favorite Broadway musical, and she was always singing the songs around the house. I didn’t get regular lullabies. I got show tunes.” He laughs just a little. “She loved ‘Defying Gravity’ the most. When I was little and crying or hurt, she’d sing it to me and told me that I shouldn’t listen to what other people have to say about me, to just trust my instincts and be myself, and then I’d be defying gravity. It just seems so long ago.”
“But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s gone forever. It’s obviously still in your heart.” I reach out and take Zane’s hand in mine before starting to sing.

My clear soprano voice rings and echoes around the empty space. “Something has changed within me, something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules, of someone else's game.”
Zane smiles before joining in, his rich baritone voice filling the little hallway. “Too late for second-guessing, too late to go back to sleep. It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes: and leap!”
I come back in to join him on the chorus and look far into Zane’s eyes as the melody flows from my mouth. “It's time to try, defying gravity. I think I'll try, defying gravity. And you can't pull me down! It's time to try, defying gravity. Kiss me goodbye, I’m defying gravity. And you can't pull me down!”
We let go of the final note together, and Zane pulls me in tight again, squeezing me in gratitude.
“Thank you.” He breathes softly in my ear. “Thank you, Lia.”

---
Our performances of Wicked go spectacularly, and before I know it, February break flies by and the jazz season begins to pick up at a frenetic pace. Our jazz ensemble earns one of the best scores at our district festival in March and qualifys for state competition in April. Rehearsal schedules become even busier than they were during musical season, and I barely have time for homework and extra practice let alone a social life. Every day starts extremely early for me with two hours of horn practice, followed by a full day of school, five or six hours of jazz ensemble rehearsal, another hour of individual practice, and then working through the seemingly endless pile of homework that awaits me at home before finally crashing into my soft bed for a couple hours of sleep. Every single moment is spent on school-work, or practice on either french horn or piano, and I find that Zane is starting to slip away from me. We still spend every possible moment together, but most of our time is spent silently working together on projects and and marking up music instead of talking. The stress seems to be elevating his depression too; his face is clouded the majority of the time, and his Facebook statuses grow increasingly morbid. My worrying side starts to kick in, heightened by fatigue, making me a little short of temper, and even more stressed out.
Finally, it’s time for states. One more day of total, maddening chaos and the world can return to normal once again. I hope. At the school, I pack up all of my equipment; the electric keyboard, amp, power strip, and extra cords, grab my music and head to the bus where Zane has thoughtfully saved me a seat.
“Ready to win this thing?” He asks as I sit down and stuff my bag under my seat.
I roll my eyes at him. “Of course. I go to win, not just participate. You know that, Zane.”
The corners of his mouth twitch upward in the smallest of smiles. “I like your thinking.”

---
The ride down to New York City is a long one, which is nice because if gives Zane and I the chance to make up for lost social time from the past couple of months. We spend the ride listening to old band songs, playing Plants vs. Zombies on his iPhone, and chatting about trivial matters. It’s good to have the friend that I’ve been missing back again.
However, as all good bus rides must, this one ends way too quickly for my liking. I stand up and stretch, my body very stiff from all of the hours of driving, and still very tired from having to wake up hours earlier than usual to be able to get to the festival on time.
The band exits the bus and we stand in front of the music wing of New York University, where the competition is being held this year. I turn and lightly punch Zane in the arm. “You ready?”
“Yeah..” He says softly, his voice fading away before shouting and running into the building. “Four state championships, here I come!”
I giggle at Zane’s sudden silliness and run after him, my hair whipping in the wind, and my laughter trailing off behind me. The rest of the band follows our lead, and raises their fists in the air, while whooping in excitement.

---
A few hours later, we’re on stage. I quickly set up the keyboard and amp, and once the drumset has been assembled we’re ready to rock. Literally. Kris Berg’s ‘The Chicken’ is a perfect tune to start our show, and we follow it with a light, piano feature ballad called “Moondance”. Herbie Hancock’s classic swing piece “Chameleon” is our epic closer, and when we finish, I breathe a sigh of relief that the performance is over, but I can also barely contain my elation. The past couple of months have been extremely stressful, but all of that hard work has really paid off today. Our performance was near perfect, and I’m totally pumped that I nailed my feature piece.
We break down our set up and converge back in our room to wait for the awards ceremony. Ms. Hubert is looking quite pleased, and everyone seems more loose and relaxed now that we’ve done what we came here to do, the weight now lifted from our shoulders. I quickly send a text to my parents about how we did, promising to send along final scores later, and stuff my phone back in my pocket, knowing that they won’t be replying any time soon.
Soon, we make our way back to the auditorium to get our scores and awards. I see my old band from Syracuse sitting near the front, and I avert my eyes, hoping that they don’t see me and start their jeering and glaring. Luckily, I pass unnoticed. Zane grabs my hand and pulls me to the back of the room where some Graden kids have already assembled. We sit silently as names are read off, one by one, and anxiously hope that ours will be read last. Syracuse is announced as coming in tenth, and I actually feel sorry for their ensemble, no matter how mean they were to me during freshman year. Last year they, we, came in second.
Finally, only three bands remain, and Graden is one of them. I shiver nervously and move to the edge of my seat, bouncing a little in anticipation. Third place is read. Then second. Our entire band jumps up in delight as we realize that we have won. The jazz professor officially announces our victory and everything goes crazy around me. We walk quickly up to the stage, and gold medals are put around each of our heads before we pose for pictures. My smile is so wide, I think that it’s going to split my face in two, but I don’t care. It’s a good feeling. All of a sudden, Zane’s arms are around me and I look up into his grinning face as I see a camera flash. I am overcome with a burning desire to kiss his lovely face, but I quell it, feeling that it isn’t the right time yet, even though my heart is telling me to just give in. Instead, I just keep smiling, and he chuckles before untangling his arms from around my shoulders.
I stumble away backwards, away from the mass of people, reeling at this new emotion that has overtaken me. Am I in love with Zane? Yes, he’s very, very cute, and certainly my type of guy. Yes, we laugh together, joke around, hang out, have deep discussions about life, hug, and complain about everything to each other. Is that love? Is this what it feels like? My brain feels fuzzy as I think about Zane. I’ve never been in love before, but I couldn’t feel more sure now. I realize that I’ve felt this way ever since I met Zane, but I didn’t notice it until now. I smile even wider than before, and leave the stage contented with this knowledge I’ve acquired. This is what love feels like. Love is that special connection between Zane and I, that weird connection that I haven’t been able to put a name to until now.
Back on the bus, everything is complete chaos. Band members jump over seats, converse loudly and celebrate by passing around boxes of cookies and other sweets. I find my seat and grab something chocolaty from a passing tray and wait for Zane. I desperately want to tell him the truth about my feelings, but am saddened by the realization of the fact that I can’t without causing great heartache. In only a month and a half, Zane with graduate from Graden High and probably leave my life forever. He’ll be at college, and even though he’s only going to school twenty minutes away, I know he won’t stay around for me. I sigh deeply as Zane plops down into the seat beside me. Next year will probably be my last year of high school, and then I’ll be off to Julliard making my way in life as a performer. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but now I can’t imagine my life without Zane. I glance over at him as he fiddles with his phone. I may have to let him go soon, but for the time being, Zane is mine. No matter what happens in the future, I’m going to make the most of our remaining time together.
Soon the darkness falls and everyone quiets down. Zane and I whisper softly to each other but not much time passes before we also fall silent. His hand fumbles to find mine and he clasps it tightly. A bolt of electricity seems to shoot between our palms, and I lean my body closer to Zane’s. Impulsively, I put my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as he rests his head on mine. We breathe in sync, and soon we’re both fast asleep, worn out by our very long day.

---
The days grow ever longer and warmer as we move through April and then May. Each day goes quickly, and even though I’m excited for summer break, I dread graduation day at the beginning of June. Zane and I cram in as much time together as possible, but of course, despite our best efforts, there’s never enough. I crave Zane’s presence during every minute of every day, but when we are together, there’s a certain awkwardness in the air. More than just friends, but less than a couple, the uncomfortableness between us grows. Zane’s depression is omnipresent, and it lurks around every corner and infests me as well. I often find him crying in secluded areas of the school during study halls, his online activity grows sparser and darker, and he barely speaks and never smiles. When I try to talk to him about his despair he just pushes me away and even show tunes don’t light up his day. On a rare occasion when we actually have a meaningful conversation Zane mentions the he’s been feeling down because it’s nearing the anniversary of his parents’ deaths. This makes sense to me, and I don’t question him any more about it.
Before I know it, it’s June, and time to say goodbye. I go to graduation along with some friends from my own grade, but I don’t pay too much attention to the ceremony because I’m trying to think of how to say goodbye to Zane.
Finally, all of the names have been read, and all the diplomas have been handed out. The senior class throws their caps in the air and the ceremony is over. Everyone in the crowd stands up and cheers and begins to swarm the field, wanting to get to their graduates. I push through the mass of people, trying to see over heads and find Zane. At last I break away from the claustrophobia-inspiring horde, and there I find my best friend. I rush into Zane’s open arms and he swings me around a couple of times before just holding me tight against him.
“I’m going to miss you so much, Lia.” He says as he gently stokes my hair.
“Me too.” I bury my face into Zane’s warm torso and breathe in his lovely boy smell. “There’s a reason why we have texting and Facebook though. We’ll keep in touch.”

•••
A car horn beeping loudly behind me startles me out of my reverie. I see that the traffic ahead of me has begun to move again so I quickly press the clutch and turn the key to start the pickup again. The rain is still coming down, but not as hard as before, and as I move up a small hill in the road, the flooding becomes much less severe. Happy that something is finally going right, I accelerate and move into the passing lane, antsy to cover the remaining miles before Albany. I make good time especially since the rain is easing off as the temperature drops.
I’ve barely seen Zane at all since his graduation, and I’m getting very nervous to see him now. What if I totally break down and fall apart? What if I can’t handle the sight of him? Suddenly I become very anxious and start shaking uncontrollably in fear and I grab the wheel to steady myself. I can’t have a mental freak-out while I’m trying to drive. I’m able to calm down a bit, but the anxiety doesn’t settle. At this rate, there’s pretty much no chance at all that Zane will even be still alive when I arrive. On the phone, Clara made it sound like he was very close to death, and that I would have to hurry to make it in time. I sneak a peek at the clock on my dashboard as I pull off at the first Albany exit. It’s been over four hours since I left my house in Graden. Zane is probably long dead by now, but I have to go and see for myself.
The hospital is very close to where I get off of the highway, and I pull into the parking lot and am able to find a parking spot in record time. I sit and slowly breathe in and out several times, mentally preparing myself before stepping out of the car. I catch a glimpse of my ghastly reflection in my side-view mirror, but don’t stop to change my appearance before walking through the doors of the large building.
I follow the signs that point to the intensive care unit, and I soon find myself in a very somber, yet bustling wing. I go to the desk to ask for directions to Zane’s room and the secretary gives me a sad little smile and points to a door far down the hallway to the left.
“Ask for the nurse named Summer. She’ll let you have some time alone with your friend. I will warn you though, he’s not in good shape at all.” She says sorrowfully.
I thank her and begin to walk down the hall. Every step is like an eternity to me, but before I know it I’m opening the door to the room the receptionist specified. I find myself in an antechamber to the actual hospital room with bare walls and a few uncomfortable looking chairs spaced around the edges. A plump, middle-aged nurse stands quietly talking to a young woman who I assume must be Clara. They both turn and jump a little as I walk into the room.
“Hi.” I say softly.
Clara stands up and comes over to me. Her eyes are swimming with tears and her face is filled with grief. “Lia?”

“Yeah.” I whisper. “The roads are terrible and traffic was all backed up. Am I too late? Can I see Zane?”

The nurse walks over to me and I see that her nametag bears the name ‘Summer’. She touches me gently on my arm and guides me to the door at the other end of the room. “You’re just in time. He’s just barely hanging on.”

Summer leads me into the room and quietly closes the door. I carefully make my way over to the bed and sit down in the chair that is beside it before I look at Zane. His face is ashen gray, and cold to the touch. His body is hooked up with about ten different tubes and I can just barely see his chest rise and fall very very slowly.

I take his freezing hand in mine and trace the lines on it with my finger before looking back at his face.

“Hi Zane.” I say in a husky voice as warm tears begin to fall from my eyes and splash on Zane’s expressionless face. I hold his hand and lay it in my lap between my own, wishing I could rub life back into him through it. “Uh...I know that you probably can’t hear me, but I still hope you can listen to what I’m saying now.” I pause for a second, breathe deeply and wipe my eyes to prepare for what I have to say. “The truth is, I love you, Zane. I always have, but I’ve just been to scared to say anything. I was scared that a relationship between the two of us would never work out because we would be going our separate ways last June and I didn’t want that heartache. However, my heart is breaking anyway, because now you lie here near death, and there’s nothing I can do to save you. I wish that you had never done this to yourself, but I know it was your choice and I hope you’ll be happy in heaven. I know that’s where you’ll be going, because no one as sweet as you could ever go to hell. I miss you so much already though, my life can never be complete without you, but I’ll muddle through somehow. I love you so much. Goodbye, Zane.” Heavy, racking sobs overwhelm me and the tears fall thick and fast as I struggle to choke out a few more words. “You’re always going to be with me in my heart. Forever.”

I gently wipe the hair that’s fallen in front of Zane’s eyes out of his face and bend over him. I slowly lower my head so that it’s right next to his and I press my lips against his, but our first and only kiss is nothing like I ever imagined it would be. There’s no spark, no sizzle, no fireworks. There’s only me and my tears and the face of what could be a corpse.

I pull myself away, crying harder than ever, and extract my iPod from my pocket along with a pair of headphones. “I brought this.” I say and put the earbuds into his cold ears. “Defying Gravity. Your favorite. Remember when we sang it together behind the auditorium? That’s one of my favorite memories of the two of us. It was really special and I’ll always treasure it.”

I take Zane’s hand once again, and lie down on the narrow strip of mattress beside him. I can see from the monitor on the wall that his heartbeat is slowing down even more and I know that he doesn’t have much time left. I curl up and press my body against Zane’s, wishing with all my heart, mind, and soul that with my body heat I could warm him back to life. As I begin to doze off, I see Summer and Clara quietly enter the room and stand in the corner, watching Zane and I with gentle eyes. My eyelids flutter a couple times and close, and I drift into a light sleep, exhausted by today’s events.

•••

Somewhere in the depths of my dream state, I become aware of a warmness gradually growing around me, and a repetitive squeezing of my right hand. I try and shake it off, but the movement and the heat just become more persistent, and soon I jerk myself awake. At first I’m confused as to where I am, but then it all comes rushing back to me. Zane. Suicide. Gone.

Suddenly I become aware that the squeezing feeling in my hand has not ceased, and I look down at it in absolute wonderment. Zane’s hand is moving around mine, holding it tight. Amazed, I call out to Summer and Clara, who must have left the room again after I fell asleep, and they come rushing in immediately.

“He’s waking up! He’s really waking up!” I shout ecstatically to them.

I kneel on the bed and hold Zane’s face between my hands. It’s much warmer now, not quite as frozen as it was before. “Zane!” I whisper frantically. “Wake up, Zane!”

Slowly but surely he begins to respond to my commands. His body heat creeps upwards and he starts to move more under the blankets. Finally, his eyelids flicker once, and then they fly open.

“Lia!” Zane exclaims before babbling random, nonsense apologies. “I should have never.... I couldn’t go on.... Lia! Forgive me? I’m sorry, so so sorry.”

“Shhhh.” I murmur and press my finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

I turn to look at Clara, who is standing by the large window. She’s smiling widely and her expression mirrors that of the outside world where the rain has turned into the first snowfall of the year.

I turn back to Zane and look deep into his eyes. The legacy of unspoken love is written there, plain as day, along with his extreme pain from before. Careful now, I lean in and kiss him softly. He responds by pulling me closer to him and pressing his lips even harder onto mine, and this time, there are fireworks.