This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization.
This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further.
Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com
The Peace Within
Chapter 4
While mom and dad were talking to Jamie Ryan, I watched the news. I couldn't turn it off. Whitney tried to change the channel by walking up to the TV but I had the remote and flipped it back. She tried to take the controller from me but I let out a shriek and she left me alone. Patrick sat with me for a bit but when they showed video of the coroner's office removing the bodies, he started to cry and ran up to his room. The Attorney General had flown in and was touring the crime scene with the head of the state police, when the phone rang. Whitney picked it up and I listened to the one-sided conversation.
"He's just sitting there watching the news, he won't say anything," said Whitney.
"Yeah I tried turning it off, I even tried taking the remote but he screamed at me."
"Ok."
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"Ok.
"No, I'll let him be."
"I love you too daddy, I'll see you when you get home."
I'm not sure what compelled me to get off the couch, but I had to know what that conversation was about. I got up and walked into the kitchen, I was standing right behind Whitney when she turned around, it startled hear and she let out a shriek.
"Jesus Parker, you scared me, honey," said Whitney, catching her breath.
"I'm sorry."
"No, no, it's ok, do you need something, are you hungry?" she asked.
"Was that dad?"
"Yeah, it was," said Whitney.
"Where are they?"
"They're still at the school, there was a memorial at the main gate and they stopped for a minute," Whitney explained.
"Oh."
"Do you want me to take you over there? Maybe you'll feel better being around..." she started.
"No."
"Ok," Whitney nodded, "you're not ready yet, I understand."
"Are mom and dad coming home?"
"Soon, they have to make a stop first," said Whitney.
"Where?"
"Let's not talk about that, I..." but I interrupted her again.
"Please tell me."
"They're going to the coroner's office, they're going to release Patton's body and mom wants to see him," Whitney sniffled.
I didn't say anymore, I did an about face and went to my room. I'd been thinking about that while watching the news, Patton's body lying on some cold slab. It hurt like nothing I'd ever felt, I was having trouble functioning, that's why I'd been so quiet, it was like part of me was dead, a big part. It didn't help that I was blaming myself for what happened, I should have been the one that died, it would have been better that way. Patton was the friendly one, he was Patrick 's favorite, he had a girlfriend that loved him, I was just some quiet, uptight, introvert that looked like him. All I could do about it was go back to bed, you'd think I'd be tired of being tired but at least when I was sleeping, I wasn't hurting.
While I was sleeping, mom and dad drove over to the morgue. Dad didn't want to go in, he knew it wasn't going to be a pretty sight but mom was determined and he couldn't say no. For mom, everything was happening so fast, it was surreal, it seemed like she'd fed Patton breakfast, blinked her eyes and he was gone. She'd never admit it but being around me freaked her out, I think it freaked everyone out, how could it not? How would you feel if your son was dead, taken from you in a violent, senseless crime? You know you'll never see him again, hug him, smell him, he's just gone. Only, he isn't, he's still there, in your house, looking at you through a dead boy's eyes. Personally, I think that's why mom needed to see him, to know that it was real.
The coroner had Patton's body in an examination room, his autopsy was complete, though it wasn't really necessary, you'd have to be blind not to notice the gunshot wound. The wound had been sealed as best the coroner could, but he was sensitive to my parents grief and when they walked in, he only uncovered Patton from the shoulders up. Mom examined him closely, she felt his hair and touched his lips, they were cold. Then she moved to the sheet and started to pull it down.
"Andrea, don't," said dad.
"I have to see it," she sniffled, "I have to see it."
She pulled the sheet down to his waist and gasped at the size of the wound. She placed her hand over his heart, the heart she'd felt beating inside of her while she waited for us to be born. She never thought his would stop beating before hers, parents aren't supposed to outlive their children. When mom finished her examination, she kissed him on the forehead.
"Sleep well my angel, nothing can hurt you now," said mom, then she broke down into sobs.
Dad put his arms around mom and guided her out of the small exam room, he'd had enough. Dad spends his days treating other peoples babies, he'd devoted his life to helping peoples children and he couldn't figure out why God would punish him by taking his child. He hadn't wanted to see Patton's corpse but he'd done it for mom. Dad wanted to remember the boy who played football and baseball, who made him laugh and filled him with pride. He didn't want to remember him as some pale Patton-like thing, lying on a slab with cold blue lips.
When they recovered themselves, mom asked the coroner where Patton's clothes were. She was informed that they'd been removed prior to the exam and samples were taken as evidence. Everything was put into plastic bags, she could have what she wanted but most parents usually chose not to get anything back. There was only one thing mom wanted, Patton's varsity jacket, mom wanted him buried in it. It had been a source of pride to him, a symbol of all the hard work he'd done on the field and all the effort he'd put into earning the varsity block S that was stitched to the chest.
The coroner gave mom the jacket and she pulled it out of the bag, it was remarkably intact. It was spattered with blood but it hadn't been damaged by shrapnel, Carter had put his gun so close to Patton's chest...well, the jacket wasn't damaged. Mom signed for the jacket and made dad stop at the dry cleaners on the way home, when Mr. Kim saw what it was, he insisted on cleaning it free of charge and delivering it to our home himself. That's just one example of how the Wallingford community was rallying around the victims and their families, everyone wanted to do his part to show us we weren't grieving alone.
When I woke up, dad was sitting next to me on my bed, stroking my hair.
"What are you doing?" I yawned.
"I just wanted to watch you for a while," said dad.
"Dad, I'm not him," I replied, I felt compelled to say it.
"I know son, I know," dad sighed, "even when you were tiny babies I could tell you apart."
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Well, the first few weeks we drew a circle on the heel of your foot with a sharpie so we wouldn't mix you up," dad chuckled, "but once we got to know each other, I could always tell."
"How?" I asked.
"Simple, you were always quiet, you'd lie in your crib and just look around, Patton would scream his head off until me or mom picked him up. You guys were so little, your tiny butts used to sit in the palm of my hands, so damn little," Dad, choked back his tears and changed the subject, "listen, there's this grief counseling session over at First Methodist tomorrow evening and..."
"I can't dad, I'm not ready," I interrupted.
"I know and that's ok, but your mom really wants you to go, she wants all of us to go, so when she asks you about it, try and let her down easy, ok?" said dad.
"Yeah, ok," I agreed.
"Good boy, now, your sister says you haven't been eating, do you want to come downstairs, no one felt like cooking, pizza should be here any minute," said dad.
"Thanks dad but I don't feel like eating," I sighed.
"Ok," said dad, then he kissed me on the cheek, "hey Parker?"
"Yeah dad?"
"You know you can come to me about anything, anytime, I'll always be here for you, right?" said dad.
"Yeah dad, I know."
"I just want you to remember that, this is going to be really tough, especially for you. Mom and I love you more then you'll ever know so if you need us, you come to us, ok?"
"I will, I promise, I will," I sniffled.
"Good boy," said dad, he gave me a weak smile, patted me on the hip, then went back downstairs.
Sure enough, mom asked me to go to the grief counseling session that night. She came in after dinner and told me about the plans she was making for Patton's funeral and asked if I wanted to speak, I told her I couldn't. He was my twin brother, I loved him so much, now that he's gone I really see how much he meant to me, I wanted to speak for him, to tell him I loved him and that I'd never forget him but I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't stand before all those people knowing this was my fault and pour my heart out.
Mom told me about her plan to have him buried in his varsity jacket, and I thought that was a good idea. I asked if I could pick out a tie for him, I'd picked most of the ties he owned and I always had to tie them, he was all thumbs. When she got to the part about the grief counseling, I wanted to say no but the look in her eyes, I couldn't do it, I just nodded my acceptance.
I was quiet the next day, I kept running the events of the last couple of days over in my head, punishing myself. My family left me alone for the most part, I think that was dad's doing. He knew that I wanted to be by myself, that I was dealing with things on my own and that I'd come to him when I was ready. I only wish he'd been right, I wasn't dealing, I was stewing, I was mad at myself, mad at Carter and Warner, I wanted my brother back but there was nothing I could do.
When it was time to drive over to the church, I took a shower, got dressed and went to my closet to grab a coat. I don't wear my varsity jacket everyday like Patton did, but when I saw it hanging there, I knew it was the one I wanted. Carter and Warner had targeted athletes and putting that coat on felt defiant, like telling them to fuck off, right to their faces. Whitney and Patrick weren't coming with us, mom thought he was too young and left him with my sister. Mom, dad and I, got into the Range Rover and I noticed something, the Volvo wasn't in the garage.
"Where's the car?" I asked.
"What's that honey?" asked mom.
"The Volvo, where is it?"
"It's still at the school, the police aren't finished with that part of their investigation yet," dad explained.
"Do we get it back?" I asked.
"We'll get it back when they're finished," said dad, "I was thinking maybe we'd sell it and get you something different now that..."
"No."
"No?" said dad.
"That's our car," I replied, mine and Patton's, I wanted it back.
"We'll worry about that later," said Mom, ending the conversation.
The rest of the ride was quiet. When we got to the church, the place was packed, there wasn't any room in the parking lot, we parked on the street and walked a half a block. We walked into the church and I couldn't help but look around, the place was a sea of black and blue in support of the students and faculty of Shelton High. There was a lot of chatter and I could hear people crying.
"I don't even know why I came, maybe just to cry with other people," said one woman.
I was holding moms hand, I hadn't done that since I was a little boy. We were all standing in the foyer, trying to figure out where to sit, when Lee and Henry McCarthy came up to us.
"Hi," sniffled Henry, Lee gave a shy wave, both of them had tear stained cheeks, they'd worn their varsity jackets too.
"Hey you two," said mom, then she hugged them, "how are you holding up?"
"Ok I guess," said Henry, "we wanted to come by and pay our respects but..."
"It's alright, this is hard for all of us," said mom.
"Yeah, well, Patton was our best friend," Henry snorted.
"Thank you for that, he loved you boys very much," said mom.
Lee hadn't said a word, he kept looking down at his feet or biting his thumbnail. I should have known the McCarthy's would take this hard, I admit that I wasn't very friendly with them but I knew they loved my brother. Both Lee and Henry looked ready to burst into tears and dad spared them the embarrassment of doing it in front of us.
"Where are your mom and dad?" asked dad.
"They're sitting over there," said Henry, pointing to a pew in the back, his mom and dad saw us and nodded somberly, "the seats up front are reserved for students, we're sitting up there with some of the team and we saw you guys come in. We thought maybe the prof...I mean, Parker, might want to sit with us?"
I squeezed my mom's hand tightly, I was nervous being here and I didn't want to let her go. She turned me towards her and looked me in the eye.
"Parker, what do you think, do you want to go and sit with Henry and Lee?" she asked.
I looked down at my feet and then back up, my eyes were rimmed with tears.
"I think Patton would like it if you sat with his best friends and his teammates," said mom.
I looked at her and thought she was right, Patton was always trying to get me to hang out with his buddies. I nodded my head, mom hugged me then I turned back towards Lee and Henry. When I took a step forward, Lee threw his arms around me and Henry patted me on the back.
"Parker, we'll be right back here if you need us," said Dad.
I nodded my head and then Lee and Henry took me to the front of the church. I recognized a lot of people from school, they were wearing their varsity jackets or school t-shirts, it could have been a pep rally if they didn't all look so sad. Some of Patton's teammates hugged me, others looked a little nervous, I was getting used to that, my face had that effect on people as of late. I sat between Lee and Henry and a few minutes later, the Pastor of Wallingford First Methodist took to the pulpit.
"Good evening, I'm Pastor Jim Grant and I want to thank all of you for coming tonight and sharing this moment in time with all of us who are grieving the loss of our children, friends and parents. Our community has suffered a loss that no one could have foreseen or prevented, but that affects us all deeply. Some of you were at the center of the storm that hit Shelton High School and we're here to show you that you're not alone, we're here to support you and to love you."
"We've asked you all here tonight because those killed on Wednesday morning are only some of the victims, each of you who knew and loved them now has a burden to bare, the burden of grief and we're here to help you carry it."
It hadn't even been five minutes yet but people were crying. I could hear it all around me, some light sniffles, some stoic tears and some body shaking sobs. I sat there and tried to block the grief out, I wanted to hold back my tears, to have at least some kind of control over my own emotions.
"... but we're all God's children and so I'd like to invite you to recite the Lord's Prayer with me. If you're not inclined to pray, that's ok too, but I would ask that you hold the hand of the person next to you..."
Lee and Henry grabbed my hands and I squeezed them tight. I could feel my stomach tightening and my eyes starting to water, I didn't want to lose it, not now.
"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name, thy kingdom come, they will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our..."
My mouth was moving but I doubt anyone could hear me, I felt like I was just going through the motions. I couldn't close my eyes, I was too busy watching the anguished expressions on the other faces.
"...and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil..."
They were evil, Carter and Warner, evil to the very core. How can you be at work one night, smiling at customer's and trying to talk to a guy about your old piano teacher, then wake up the next morning and go on a murder spree? How can you see the same guy, or at least someone who looks the same, and walk up to him and blow a hole in his chest, just because he wanted to pay for his orange juice, and cough drops, and go home after a long day? The only answer that made sense was they were evil. I closed my eyes and tried to force the smiling visage of Derek Carter from my mind but he wouldn't leave me alone. When I finally opened my eyes, the minister was finishing his prayer.
When the minister finished, he introduced our principal, Mr. Perry, who explained that Shelton High would be shut down for the next two weeks so that we could bury our dead and mourn their passing. It would be several months before the school could reopen so when we returned, in two weeks, we would be sharing the campus of Bartlett Academy, with the students at the boarding school across town. The nation was mourning with us and the Bartlett trustees wanted to welcome us with open arms. Mr. Perry concluded his statement by saying that though our school was closed, our counseling staff would be available to any student who needed help or just wanted to come by and talk about things.
The youth pastor, Jamie Ryan, spoke next. He talked about his time at Shelton High and how the friendships he'd made had lasted and endured beyond high school. He reminded us that we were all united in our grief, that we should lean on one another because the perpetrators of this horrible crime wanted us to be scared and alone. Coming together was our way of rebelling against the pain they'd inflicted on us. When he was finished, Jamie invited anyone in the audience to share what they were feeling. At first no one in the student section spoke but after a few parents expressed themselves, some of the kids started to feel more comfortable.
I tried to block it out at first, I didn't want to hear this, I relived Patton's last phone call in my head, over and over again, I didn't want to enhance that with other people's horror. I did my best to block it out but when a boy pointed at me, it obviously drew my attention. He must have been a freshman, he was small with brown hair and big green eyes that burned red from all his tears. He wasn't wearing a varsity jacket but he had a Shelton High Stallions t-shirt on and he was sitting with some of the lacrosse team.
"That boy's brother saved my life and I don't even know his name," he sniffled.
"Patton Westergaard," Henry called out, choking back tears.
"I was standing by the book shelves when they came in and started shooting and I was so scared I couldn't move. This boy grabbed my shirt and pulled me down and the shelf behind me got shot up when I hit the ground. I was shaking and I was so scared but he was brave, they started yelling at some girl and he stood up to them. They, they..." he trailed off and sat down, holding his face in his hands.
Tears were streaming down my cheeks like Niagra Falls. I was thankful that the boy, who I found out later was Ian Hill, hadn't mentioned Patton talking on the phone. I wasn't ready to explain that, I wasn't ready to tell anyone what I'd heard, what haunted me every chance it got.
Ian was the last student to speak, after what he said, so many people were crying that Jamie decided it was best to move on to the meat of this gathering. He introduced his former professor, Dr. Katherine Ford, PhD.
A petite woman stood up and smiled, yeah, smiled, at the audience, then spoke into the microphone.
"Good evening, I'm so happy to be here with all of you this evening..." she started.
Happy to be here with us? You know what would have made me happy in that moment? Being at Patton's baseball game. I looked at my watch and realized it should have been around the 8th or 9th inning, while this idiot was being happy to be with us.
"...I've brought a PowerPoint presentation and I ..." she continued.
PowerPoint huh? Give me a fucking break.
She started to drone on and on about how grief was a process and the things we should expect to feel. I wanted to shout out, "has anyone ever murdered your twin brother because of you? Can you tell me how I'm supposed to feel about that? Because I'll tell you, I feel like shit!" But I kept my mouth shut and sat there, Lee and Henry had taken my hands, I think they were trying to support me or maybe draw comfort from me, I'm not sure which. The nice thing about Lee and Henry, my brother's best friends, was at least they weren't looking at me like I was some kind of ghost.
Someone interrupted Dr. Ford with a question, she gave them an answer but then said she'd appreciate it if everyone would hold their questions until she was finished. I couldn't help but think, where the hell did they find this woman? If she was any colder she'd be a freezer. I looked at the others sitting on the stage and my eyes fell on Jamie Ryan, he'd invited her and he looked embarrassed.
I ignored Dr. Ford as long as I could but something snapped in me towards the end of the session. A boy was talking about his experience, about how he'd been in the cafeteria and hid when they came in but he wouldn't use their names. This boy was right next to Leroy when he was killed and if he didn't want to say the names of the people who could just as easily have taken his life, then so be it, leave him alone. But this bitch wouldn't shut up, she pushed him and pushed him until finally he blurted out, "Derek Carter and Ron Warner, ok, are you happy now?"
The room was silent for a moment, then I heard a brusque voice call out, "fucking assholes." I turned and saw Cory Martin, a burly lineman with tears in his eyes and the vein in his neck throbbing with anger. He hadn't shouted, but everyone heard what he said.
"Now, I really don't think we need to resort to name calling. Yes Mr. Carter and Mr. Warner did something terrible but they were the product of their environment, they were victims too..." Dr. Ford tried to explain.
"Victims? Victims!?" I shouted, I didn't even realize I'd stood up, "I bought cough drops from Derek Carter and the next morning he got up and put a gun to my brother's chest and pulled the trigger! And you want to tell me he was a victim?"
"Young man, I want to assure you that all I meant was..." she stated.
"No, I've listened to you long enough, you listen to me now," I stated, shouting her down, "How dare you come here and tell all these people who lost friends or their kids that they should think of those bastards as victims! You unbelievably insensitive idiot!"
I wanted to say more but I was shaking with rage. I stormed out of the church through a side door, Lee, Henry and half of the football team followed me. I could hear my dad's voice in the background.
"I'm sorry for my son's outburst, he lost his twin brother, he's naturally upset..." said dad.
I didn't want to hear the rest of what he had to say, I didn't need him to explain for me, I'd meant every word of what I said and I hope I would have had the courage to say it whether Patton had died or not. No one in that room needed her to preach to them about Carter and Warner being victims.
When I got outside, my lungs sucked in fresh air like it was going out of style. I was so intent on getting out of that church that I didn't realize how hard I'd been sobbing. I dropped down and sat against the brick wall, I pulled my knees up and cried into them. I felt Lee and Henry drop down beside me, Lee hugged me and wouldn't let go, Henry put his hand on my shoulder and the rest of Patton's teammates formed a semi-circle around us like a ring of bodyguards.
"Fuck that lady man," Henry sniveled, "she doesn't know what she's talking about.
I sat back against that wall and closed my eyes, I wanted all this to go away. Please God just give Patton back and make it all go away.
Two years ago, my brother Patrick was out playing with his friend Simon. Mom and dad were both at work, Patton and I were 14, and they didn't have any concerns about leaving our ten year old brother in our care. It was no different from any other day, Simon lived up the street and when he came over to play, we couldn't see the harm. The boys started off playing video games in the basement and eventually got bored and went to ride their bikes. An hour later, Simon came running into the kitchen, where I sat at the table, with my ever present book, and Patton had his nose in the fridge.
"Hurry, you gotta come, quick," Simon panted.
"What is it, what's the matter?" I asked.
"Patrick, he fell off his bike, I think he's really hurt," Simon replied.
I dropped my book and ran after Simon, Patton just a few steps behind me. We didn't' have to go far, Patrick lie at the end of the driveway, he was clutching his arm and crying. I ran as hard as I could and came down on my knees beside him, Patton stayed back, watching from a few feet away.
"Patrick, what happened?" I asked, calmly.
"I-I-I fell off my bike," he cried, "Parker, my arm hurts."
"Let me see it," I stated, and reached for the wounded limb.
"No!" Patrick shouted and pulled back.
"Patrick, you need to calm down and let me see or I can't help you," I explained.
"Ok," he sniffled in resignation.
I moved toward him again, my hands out stretched to take his arm, when he let out another shriek.
"Stop, stop, stop, it hurts," he whined.
"Patrick, I haven't even touched it yet," I told him.
It took some coaxing but eventually he let me get a hold of his arm and slowly stretch it out. I was as gentle as I could be but I had to see if it was broken. I ran my fingers gingerly along his arm until I came into contact with a piece of bone sticking up at an odd angle. Patrick screamed when I touched it.
"I'm sorry Patrick, I'm sorry, I won't touch it again, I just had to find the break," I apologized.
I looked over at Patton, he was as pale as a ghost and looked like he was about to throw up.
"Patton, Patton," I called, it took a sec for him to register that I was talking to him and give me his attention.
"Yeah, yeah, what?" he asked.
"Nine-one-one, he's got a broken arm," I explained.
"Yeah, ok, I'm on it," Patton nodded.
I made to get up from my knees but Patrick grabbed my wrist with his good hand and pulled me back down.
"Don't go," Patrick whined.
"I was just going to get my cell phone and call mom and dad," I explained.
"Don't go, let Patton do it," Patrick whined.
I sat there on my knees and held Patrick 's hand. He was in a lot of pain and I did what I could to keep him calm. I heard Patton give the 911 operator our address, then he hung up and dialed first mom, then dad. The ambulance was already on its way, mom and dad would meet us at the hospital. When we got there, I stayed with Patrick until our parents took over, but even then, he insisted I stay with him while the orthopedist examined him and set the bone. When it was over, when his arm had been placed in a cast and we'd taken him home, mom came into my room and hugged me.
"Thank you baby," she said.
"It was nothing," I smiled.
"I know, Parker" said mom, "you're my rock."
"Rock?"
"It means you know how to keep your head when everyone else around you is losing theirs," she explained.
"I didn't do anything special, I just held his hand while Patton called 911," I reminded her.
"You kept your cool, accessed the situation and kept your brother calm, that's what a rock does," said mom.
She hugged me again and when she left, I couldn't help feeling proud. I was the rock, the calm and collected one, the one you could count on in times of crisis. Now, as I sat there, crying, shivering in the cold air, Lee and Henry McCarthy on either side of me and the three of us surrounded by friends, I realized it wasn't true. I'm not a rock, I simply hide behind a mask of cold, stoic competence. That little outburst in the church sanctuary, that wasn't even a real meltdown, it was simply the first crack in the façade. I was in more pain then I'd ever known in my life, it was bubbling dangerously close to the surface and something inside of me told me I had to suppress it, had to bury it, because if I lost it now, I might never be in control again.
My parents came out of the church and the football players stood aside so they could get to me. Henry moved over so my mom could sit down, he gently pried Lee away, to make room for my dad.
"Parker, are you alright?" asked Dad.
"Home dad, I wanna go home," I whimpered.
Mom and dad helped me to my feet but before we could start walking, each of the football players hugged me and my parents. It was a nice gesture from boys who were grieving with us, who were being forced to act like grown-ups, before many of them were ready. It was a nice gesture but I wanted out of there, I accepted the hugs and pushed my way through the crowd, heading for the parking lot.
Dad wasn't thinking when he got behind the wheel. He took the most direct route home which took us right passed the high school. The makeshift shrine hand grown since my parents had been there, there was a mountain of stuffed animals and flowers, there were candles and more pictures pinned to the fence. I started to hyperventilate, I couldn't catch my breath and I was panting like a dog. Dad pulled over and got me out of the car, he had me bend my knees and bend over. He rubbed my back and told me to take shallow breathes, finally the panting stopped. When we got home, I went straight to my room, I didn't come out until the following afternoon.
All I wanted to do is sleep and when the doorbell rang, I ignored it but the visitor was insistent and kept ringing. I finally got up to see what the hell was so important and why no one else had answered the door.
"Can I help you?" I asked, when I opened the door and found a small Asian man.
"I bring jacket," said Mr. Kim, handing me the parcel, "all clean, no stain."
It was wrapped neatly in brown paper, I pulled back a flap so I could see inside and recognized it instantly.
"Thank you," I replied and moved to shut the door.
"You welcome, me and Mrs. Kim very sorry about brother."
"Thank you, we appreciate that," I answered and shut the door.
When I turned back to the house, I found a note on the foyer table, written in Whitney's steady hand:
Parker, mom and dad are out making arrangements. I'm picking Jeff and Aiden up at the train station, Patrick decided to come along. If you need anything, call my cell.
I put the note back on the table then took the jacket up to my room. I unwrapped the package and laid the jacket out on my bed. It was just like mine in every way, the body was blue wool, the sleeves black leather. Over the chest there was a large block S also in blue but traced in white. On the back was our last name, on the front was the one difference between this jacket and mine, Patton's name embroidered in small white stitching. I stared at the jacket for a long time, then I got my jacket out of the closet, folded it neatly and wrapped it in the brown paper that Patton's jacket had come home in. I didn't think anyone would take the time to examine the jacket, I assumed it would go to the funeral home in the paper I'd wrapped it in.
I took my jacket downstairs, along with a black and blue stripped tie that Patton wore on game days because his coach expected them to dress up, and put it on the table next to Whitney's note. I left a note of my own saying that Mr. Kim had dropped it off and it was ready to go to Sanderson's, along with the tie I'd picked out. When I got back to my room, I cuddled Patton's jacket like a teddy bear, pulled the blankets over my head and closed my eyes again.