Farewell, Thomas. Rest in peace.

Farewell, Thomas...

I don't want to think about this. Stop thinking about it. Stop it.

I felt paralyzed.

The more I tried to suppress it, the more the image of a little Jeremy crying in the dark shattered before my eyes.

Madness. Pure madness. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

I heard the door opening. Oh my god. Jeremy couldn't find me like this. I stuffed one note after another back into the box, but I wasn't fast enough.

"What are you doing?"

It wasn't Jeremy. Idiot. Jeremy was still at school. It was just Lucas.

"What?"

The blondie nodded towards me as he leaned the broom and dustpan against the wall. "You're as white as a sheet."

He approached me with curious eyes that eventually fell on my hands. I was still clutching a note, one that I couldn't let go of.

I was mean, I was very very mean...

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"My father kidnapped me." It came out with a strange smile, as if I were making a joke. I must have seemed out of my mind.

Lucas stood there staring at me as if I might have something else to say. There was nothing else. My father kidnapped me.

"Come on. Pull yourself together." He wasn't gentle. He hooked my armpit and pulled until I stood up. I think the intention was gentle, though.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he dragged me out of the room.

He barely glanced at me. "Outside. You look like you've just seen a corpse. You need to relax."

I had just seen a corpse. Mine. It was closed in a cardboard box.

He dragged me down the stairs, and then back to the table where he had retrieved his useless condom. He let go of my arm only to dig into his jacket. And, oh... wonderful sight...

"Not here." He exclaimed when I tried to snatch the joint from his hand. "It'll linger. Let's go to the garden."

So I let myself be dragged again.

I hadn't even seen the garden yet. At the back of the house was a large well-kept lawn, the platform where there must have once been a hot tub, and rows of potted flowers.

The Canadian air was crisp, but there was a nice morning sun warming us up. We sat right at the center of the lawn, where the light hit the most.

Despite the peaceful air, despite the reassuring sound of the lighter clicking... I still felt my chest being crushed.

I stared at Lucas as he brought the joint to his mouth and inhaled to ignite the flame. I needed to distract myself, and his thick lips were quite a distraction.

His tongue clicked in annoyance when, on the third attempt, the lighter only spat out sparks.

"You have beautiful lips."

Finally, the flame ignited. Lucas inhaled, then moved the joint away from his mouth and let out a puff of smoke.

He passed it to me with narrowed eyes. "I said no comments on my physical appearance."

"Not even compliments?"

"Especially compliments."

I accepted his offer and didn't argue further. The smell of weed in the air was already lulling me. The first hit filled my lungs completely.

It was cheap stuff, but I couldn't complain. At least it was free.

I passed the joint back to him and collapsed on the lawn. The grass pricked my cheeks and the sun blinded my eyes. Those were real things, things that made sense.

When Lucas passed me back the joint, he lay down beside me.

It took a while for my heart to stop racing.

I didn't usually smoke like this. I mean... I didn't smoke weed to calm my nerves, it's just that I liked the feeling. I had never felt the need for it before.

According to my father, that was the moment I should quit.

You can have fun with all the drugs you want, until they stop being fun, and you really need them.

But my father was the last person I wanted to think about.

Lucas wriggled on the lawn to reach into his jacket. He pulled out his flip phone and checked the time. "I have at most ten minutes left. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not even remotely." That was the very last thing I wanted to do. I needed to think about something else. "How old are you?"

"Almost nineteen. And you?"

"Almost eighteen."

"You're American, right?" He asked with a smirk.

"Could I ever be Canadian?"

I heard him laugh and turn his head towards me. "Mind you, Canada is also full of troublemakers of your kind."

"Like you?"

I looked at him in turn when he laughed again. His light eyes really sparkled when he laughed.

He leaned over to take the joint back.

"I'm American too. I'm from New York, but my mom and I moved here when I was two. That shitty father of mine left us with nothing. Luckily my mom speaks French well. They recruited her through the embassy as a caretaker. One thing led to another, and she ended up cleaning rich people's houses."

This was something I knew, something normal. Most of the guys in my neighborhood had similar stories. Fathers leave, mothers stay but they don't have the time or the love for a child. And we delinquents ended up raising each other.

I was the only jerk in my group who worked the other way around. With a father at home but no mother. And I thought I was lucky.

"Your father hasn't shown up since?"

He snorted disgustedly. "It's better for him not to show up. I'm not saying I hate him. If he were on fire, I'd try to put out the flames, okay? But only if I had gasoline on hand."

"Aaah... so it's unconditional love."

"It's all the love he deserves."

I returned to staring at the sky. The wind had shifted the clouds, scattering them into smaller fluffs.

"I don't hate my father." I don't know why this came out. I had just said I didn't want to talk about it.

"No one says you have to hate him."

Everyone said I should hate him. Or at least they thought so. They only saw him as the one who drove a poor mother crazy, and who terrorized a child. He probably ruined Jeremy’s childhood...

Lucas pulled out his phone again. "Listen, Drake, I really can't be found here. It would get my mother in trouble. Smith's son will be here soon. I have to go."

He passed me the joint and gestured for me to finish it. He sat up.

"Wait..."

He looked at me impatiently. He seemed torn. I couldn't let him go so quickly. Maybe his mother would be back to work the next day. I had to stop him now.

Fuck those stupid notes. Fuck that impending sense of catastrophe... those were things that didn't make sense. I didn't know how to handle them.

But this I did.

"I have a band. You need to sing in my band."

"Huh?" He looked at me with furrowed brows as if I had just spoken another language.

"You have an extraordinary voice, and you and I together will become one of those bands that remain immortal in history."

"Ah, I see..." He stood up and stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "I don't know anything about music, and anyway, I wouldn't have the time to dedicate to something like that. I'm sorry. You'll have to find someone else."

Of course. Now I'll just go find another talent that comes once every fifty years. Sure.

I got up beside him.

"It doesn't matter if you don't know anything about music! I'll write the lyrics and music, and then I'll teach you everything you need. Believe me, this shitty job doesn't suit you. I'll make you earn millions."

His eyebrows went from puzzled to annoyed. For some reason, he was getting pissed off.

"Okay, then let's say you give me a million upfront and I'll quit my shitty job."

"I'm serious. We'll be more famous than the Black Eyed Peas. Richer than the Eagles."

"Never heard of them. I listen to whatever's on the radio, I don't know names."

"Okay. Then look." I grabbed his arm and turned him towards the front of the villa. "Does this look like a rich people's house to you? This will be the house of our servants. Your assistant will have his own assistant. Lucas." I turned him again, this time towards me, to look him straight in the eyes. "Your voice is pure talent. I'll make you top all the charts."

He let out a half-laugh, as if I were joking.

How could he laugh? That was the only thing still true in my life. My music was the only thing I had left. I NEEDED this.

He shrugged, trying to slip away from my grasp.

"Not that I don't appreciate being called a pure talent, but I have to live in the real world. And in the real world, I have to pay rent by the fifth of every month."

He backed away harder this time, and this time he slipped away from me. "I really have to go now."

"No, wait... listen! Okay. We'll talk about it when you come back. Will you be here tomorrow?"

He headed down the garden path. "Tomorrow you go to school."

Sure. Right.

Tomorrow I would be stuck in my bed. Now more than ever, I had no intention of spending a whole day sitting at the desk next to Jeremy.

Just thinking about him brought back that tightness in my chest. I didn't know what that feeling was and I didn't know how to get rid of it.

"When we'll be rich and famous, you'll look back on this moment and beg me to forgive you for being such an idiot."

Another chuckle.

"Sure."

...

I had put away the box of notes and had placed everything I had touched in Jeremy's room back in its place, to make sure he didn't suspect any intrusion.

Then I retreated to my room and hugged my silent guitar until I heard footsteps in the hallway.

Jeremy was back home. If all went well, he was still mad at me for not going to school and wouldn't talk to me...

"Drake?" I heard his muffled voice from behind the door.

Pretend to be dead.

"I'm sorry for being angry this morning. Can I come in?"

Ugh. Fuck.

I leaned the guitar against its corner and cautiously approached the door.

"Yes?"

Jeremy waited for me to open it wider, but no... I think I'm fine with just one eye looking at you.

"Drake." He took a deep breath. "I was completely insensitive. I can't imagine what it must be like for you to suddenly find yourself in a new home, with new people and new rules. You don't feel ready to resume a normal life yet, and I understand that. I'm sorry I didn't respect your needs this morning. I want you to feel at home as much as possible, so if you need more time before going back to school, that's fine. I don't think Mom would understand, but you can count on me, I assure you I'll cover for you as much as possible. I'll be... um..." He looked into nothingness and blinked with a puzzled expression. "I'll be on your side..." And at that point he sniffed the air like a dog and furrowed his brows. "I'll be... uh... do you smell that too?"

"Smell what?"

He put a hand on the door and pushed it wide open. He entered the room aimlessly. He made a full circle until his nose led him back to me.

"Oh my god."

He said it as if he had just caught me with a bloody knife in hand.

"What?"

"You smoked marijuana."

He didn't even let me respond. Panic filled his eyes and his hands went to his hair. "Oh no oh no oh no... Mom will be back from work earlier today. She wanted to do something special with you. Oh no..."

"Hey, relax, it was just..." I never got the chance to tell him what it was just.

Jeremy cut off our conversation by rushing to the windows. He flung them both open, then ran to me, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me out of the room, down the hallway, and into the bathroom.

"Take off those clothes. Get in the shower. NOW."

Wow, okay.

I complied with his request only because he seemed pissed off enough to start tearing my clothes off himself.

"Just calm down, little guy."

He muttered something in response as I peeled off my sweatshirt and unbuttoned my pants.

"Wha… what happened?" His murderous tone had been momentarily suspended. Jeremy was staring at my chest.

I lowered my gaze too. Did Lucas leave me hickeys? Well... didn't seem like it.

"What?"

He raised a finger to indicate.

"Oh, that. Nothing, I used to climb everywhere when I was little. And apparently it's not a good idea to do it over a sharp fence."

He made a strange face, as if he had just drunk spoiled milk.

"Okay. And there, on your arm?"

What did I have on my arm?

Oh right...

"This happened a long time ago. Apparently I spilled hot oil on myself. Dad was frying something, I think, and I couldn't see the pan. I told you I used to climb everywhere."

"Sure. Okay."

He made that face again. The spoiled milk face.

It annoyed me. It was obvious he had something to say but he wasn't saying it.

"What?"

"Nothing."