“Sometimes I wish she died instead of him. I know that makes me sound like a terrible person, but he didn’t deserve the way he treated her. He had to start his life over as a single dad with a broken heart. I don’t know how he did it, but he always made sure I was happy and taken care of. He pushed aside whatever pain he felt to make sure I lived a good and happy life. And now he’s gone and I’m stuck with her.”
He’s trying to fight the tears, but they’re too strong. I press my head to his chest as I continue to squeeze him. “You’re not a terrible person, Damian. How you feel is totally understandable. I wish I could absorb all your pain and leave you with nothing.”
“I wouldn’t want you to feel what I’m feeling.” He plays with my hair. “I want you to continue being your fun and awesome self. You’ve helped me so much, Sophie. You have no idea.”
I slowly lift my head. “I have?”
He nods with a small smile. “I was miserable when I first moved here. I thought my life would be total hell. I counted down the days until I would get the heck out of here. Then I got stuck being tutored by this stubborn goody-goody who refused to take my crap.”
“She sounds like a nightmare.”
His chest rumbles with a laugh. “She brought light into my life and gave me a reason to smile.” He looks at me with soft eyes. “Being your friend has been the best thing to have happened to me. Thanks for putting up with me, Sophie. You’re such an amazing person.”
I wave my hand as my cheeks heat up. “Please. I’m not that great.”
“I think you are.”
“Thanks. Do you want to tell me more about your dad?”
He spends the next forty minutes sharing memories of his dad and showing me photos. His whole face lights up as he speaks about him, and I can see the gray cloud slowly leaving his face. Of course the pain is still there—it might always be there—but he doesn’t seem as broken as before.
“I know your relationship with your mom isn’t that great,” I tell him. “But you’ve got to be grateful to her for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“She forced us to be together for tutoring. There’s no way we would ever be friends if not for that.”
“I guess you’re right.” He laughs softly. “I can’t hate her for everything, can I? But actually, it’s more the fact that you’re the best tutor in the whole school. The credit should go to you and not her.”
“I guess if you put it that way…”
He laughs softly again, and I do, too, glad he seems to be feeling better.
“Can I show you which of my drawings were my dad’s favorites?” he asks.
“Of course.”
He gets up from the bed and rummages around in one of his desk drawers for a sketchpad. Then he lowers himself next to me and shares his drawings with me.
“These are so amazing, Damian,” I tell him. “Are you sure you don’t want to submit any of them to the art contest?”
He shakes his head, closing the sketchpad and putting it aside. “I’m not entering the contest.”
“Why not? I wish I could, but I’m not gifted like you.”
He lifts his shoulders. “Just not my thing.”
“It’s a real shame, though. I think you could win.”
“I don’t really care about that.”
“Are you sure about that?” I ask as I look into his eyes. “Or are you just saying that because you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”
He doesn’t say anything.
“You have such a gift, Damian. I have no right to tell you what to do, but it would be a shame not to share your talent with the world.”
“The world doesn’t need anything from me.”
