by Chad Morris
Squint’s shoulders weren’t square. He looked almost like a slight hunchback.
Awful.
I grabbed another page.
Awful.
Another.
Awful.
Another.
Awful.
Wrong angles, smudgy shading, lines didn’t match up.
I thought I was good. I’d been so delusional. A real comic-book artist could have drawn these with his toes. Blindfolded. And they probably would have looked better. My drawings seemed like a third grader had scribbled them out.
My eyes stung, both of them. How come nobody told me? McKell didn’t tell me. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t tell me.
I crumpled the paper in my hand. That felt good. I crushed it hard, my fingers turning red with the pressure.
I grabbed the stacks and flung them to the ground.
So much work. So, so much work. So many hours. So much heart. I slammed my hands down hard on my desk.
I had a new Comic Rule.
Comic Rule: Actually know how to draw.
“What’s with all the drama in here?” Grandma asked, opening the door. Everything boiled up inside me. I could finally see. And what I wanted to see most wasn’t worth looking at.
“You lied to me,” I said. And she had. She had been the first one to tell me that I was good at drawing.
What is the first phase of mitosis?
a) Anaphase
b) Interphase
c) Prophase
d) Telophase
e) I-don’t-care-at-all-phase
Okay, so that last one wasn’t on the worksheet, but if it was I would have circled it. We had a substitute in science and the hour was filled with silent worksheets. Painfully boring. Add that to the fact that I still had to wear the safety sunglasses, even indoors, because the light bothered me and we couldn’t risk anything getting in my eye. Underneath those I had on my old glasses with the right lens missing. And I was wearing my grandma’s flannel shirt (that I hoped no one could tell was a girl’s shirt) with a new pair of slip-on canvas shoes and elastic waistband jeans that my grandma bought for me so I wouldn’t have to bend over. I’m sure I was looking pretty hot. What a way to come back to school.
McKell was back too. I looked over at her. She was even prettier than the fuzzy version of her I could see before. She wore a blue-and-white striped shirt with a white hair tie holding up her dark hair. For a second, I could see something else. Her thick lashes were close together as her eyes seemed heavy and her dark eyebrows rested low. She moved slowly when she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Was she okay? Maybe I could check on her after class, but I didn’t think she would want me to talk to her where everyone could see.
Was this seeing thing kind of like a superpower? I could see wrinkles, and smiles, and sleepy eyes. It almost made it so I could see how people felt. Or at least it gave me more clues. It was definitely more than I was used to.
McKell looked up. I gave a sly wave. Hopefully it wasn’t too obvious, just in case she was still trying to keep everything on the down low.
She looked at me a moment, probably surprised by my weird sunglasses, or my outfit, or both. Then she did a quick check to see if anyone was watching and waved back. But there was something off about it. Her smile was tiny—no teeth. Maybe she was feeling sick or something.
The sub finished up as the bell rang.
I took longer than I really needed to gather my stuff so I could leave at the same time McKell did. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I mean, I did look like a total weirdo. But I hadn’t seen her in a really long time.
She was so slow; we were pretty much the last ones walking out of the room.
“Hey,” I said, nodding and smiling.
“Hey,” she said. She tried to grin, but didn’t get very far.
I knew that I didn’t have much time to talk with her before we stepped out into the hall and she wouldn’t want to be seen with me. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” I said.
“Have you seen much?” she asked, pointing at my glasses. Her voice sounded a little flatter than normal.
“I got surgery on my eye,” I said, pointing at it. “I can see a lot better now.”
“Really? That’s cool,” she said. “I figured that there was some crazy reason that you were wearing sunglasses in class.” She tapped the side of her head. “I mean, it’s quite the fashion statement.”
I nodded. “You look great,” I said, then almost immediately regretted it. “I mean, I’m not trying to say anything awkward. I’m just saying that I can see you better than before and you look good.” Terrible. Anything I could say next wouldn’t help. “Oh, my gosh. It’s not like that. I mean . . . that it’s good to see you. And I like your shirt.” I like your shirt? “And your hair.” Oh, that fixes everything. I closed my mouth before I would say anything else.
“Thanks,” she said. A hint of this smile was real.
We were leaving the classroom and I didn’t quite know what to do next. Did she want me to pretend not to know her? Did we split up here?
We walked through the door and she didn’t seem to mind.
KAPOW! Oh, yeah! I was wearing crazy sunglasses and my grandma’s shirt and McKell was okay walking with me. We were definitely friends. At least a little bit. I wasn’t just a challenge, right? “So what about you?” I asked. “Why were you gone for so long?”
Almost immediately she wiped her eyes.
Oh, no. Wrong thing to ask. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to make you upset. I just don’t know. I haven’t seen you since the hike.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. She sniffled again and turned to the wall. She wasn’t walking anymore.
“Do you want me to help you with another challenge?” I asked. I was still kind of surprised that we were talking in public.
She shook her head. “I’m not doing those anymore.”
“What?” I asked. “Why not?” I had been online a few times looking at some of Danny’s other videos. I didn’t see any new ones, but there were plenty of old ones to do. It helped me pass the time while I was recovering, especially since I didn’t want to draw. “Maybe we could try the one—”
“Danny died,” she said, interrupting me.
I froze.
Once in a football game, I got knocked to the ground so hard I couldn’t breathe. It was like all my air rushed out of me. Suddenly I felt like that.
I wanted to pause time, let the world slow, let my heart sag, feel heavy.
The cheerful conversations around us seemed out of place.
“He wasn’t doing well,” she said. “So I took a few days off of school to be with him. And then,” she sniffled, “he left.” She started walking again.
I could only imagine what it must feel like to be McKell right now. No wonder she seemed different.
What do you say to someone after their brother dies? Maybe if I had some time and I was writing a comic about it I could come up with something perfect, the best thing to say. But in the moment, I had no idea. I wanted to go tell my grandma because she always made pies for people who were going through hard things. If I had a pie, maybe it would have been easier. “I’m sorry,” was all that came out.
“McKell, what are you doing with Squint?” Gavin asked, coming up beside us. “I mean, Mr. Sunglasses McCool.”
This timing couldn’t have possibly been worse. And Travis was with him. I tried to think quickly. I could tell them that McKell was tutoring me again, but in the hallway? Would they go for that? But McKell didn’t need teasing. Not now.
“We’re walking,” she said before I could say anything. She didn’t even seem worried or embarrassed. Just emotionless.
“You still tutoring the pirate?” Travis asked. Good. He remembered about the tutoring thing. M
aybe that would help. “Well, he used to be a pirate. Now Squint’s Mr. Shades. I don’t think he can decide what he is.”
Anger bubbled inside me. They had no class. If they thought something was funny they just said it, no matter how much damage they caused. “Leave us alone,” I said. I never said stuff like that, but it just came out.
“Us?” Gavin asked and he raised his eyebrows. “McKell, is there something you need to tell us?”
I had been teased by these guys for years and I could take it pretty well, but when they were teasing McKell right after I found out her brother died, something inside of me burst.
“Lay off!” I said. “It’s not like that.”
They stopped for a second and looked. “Whoa,” Travis said, “Squint’s getting mean.”
Some of the people passing slowed and watched us.
Gavin and Travis had to know that Danny had died. They were McKell’s friends.
“Get out of here,” I said.
“Calm down,” Gavin said.
“Just leave,” I said, pointing down the hall.
“You can’t command me, Cap’n,” Travis said using his pirate voice. “You’re not wearing your patch.”
“It’s alright,” McKell said to me and them. She was too calm, not herself.
“Nah,” Gavin said. “We’re out.”
And they left.
McKell walked up to her locker, not seeming bothered by the whole thing. Which was good, I guess. I glanced down the hall at the backs of Gavin and Travis.
“Don’t they know?” I asked McKell.
“Yeah,” she said. “They know. They’re just dorks sometimes.” She put her books in the locker. “And you didn’t make things better by yelling at them.”
Did I do something wrong?
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “See ya later, Squint.”
And she left too.
She didn’t seem mad at me, but I still had no idea if we were actually friends.
Did it matter? It wasn’t like we would talk much anymore. She wasn’t doing any more challenges and I didn’t want to draw.
I leaned back on the pillows on my bed, throwing a football up and catching it. It had been on my bookshelf for a long time. My depth perception was a little tricky with only the one good eye, but I was so much better at catching now. Still, if Grandma saw me throwing a ball above my new eye she’d kill me. Maybe now that my double vision was gone in my right eye, I could throw the ball around on the field; play a few games. Well, when I healed. I kind of doubted it though, considering the safety warden I lived with. She’d never let me take a tackle.
My phone was reading Danny’s obituary to me. I highlighted the text and it said the words. I still wasn’t supposed to do much reading.
Danny Panganiban, an amazing son, brother, and friend died due to heart disease. He loved the outdoors, sports (especially watching the Nebraska Huskers!), jokes, movies, and making videos for his successful YouTube channel, “Danny’s Challenges.” Danny had progeria, a rare genetic disease. It is what gave Danny his unique look, and unfortunately caused his body to age much faster than it should. Though many may have clicked on Danny’s channel because of his looks, they loved him for something much more.
Every week Danny would share details about his life and challenge anyone who would listen. He challenged people to be kinder, braver, and more helpful. His almost half a million subscribers came to know him, and became better people because they took his challenges.
The obituary went on to share where Danny’s funeral would be (which I had already missed) and mentioned his mother, father, McKell, and grandparents.
A short knock, then Grandpa stepped into my room, almost completely filling the doorframe.
As I gripped the ball and sat up, my feet swung over the edge of my bed and landed on the comic pages that I’d left on the ground.
“Mind if I take a seat?” Grandpa asked, pointing at the other side of my bed.
“Go for it,” I said.
He carefully avoided stepping on the comic pages as he made his way to my bed and sat. “I haven’t seen you play with that ball in a while.” He opened his hands for a toss and I lobbed it to him. “Nice lateral.”
“It’s been collecting dust on my bookshelf,” I said.
Grandpa nodded. “Grandma said that you haven’t picked up your drawings.” He threw the ball up and down ignoring the papers scattered all over the floor. “She said you’re upset because you don’t think you’re very good at it.”
I didn’t answer. Every time I looked at those pages it was like my blood froze and boiled at the same time.
“Well,” he said, reaching down to pick up a page, “I know you can’t bend over while your eye is recovering, so I thought I’d help.”
“Don’t bother,” I said.
He looked at me for a moment then picked up another. He flattened both of them on his lap, then set them on the bed next to him. “I’m no art critic and I like your art, but I’m not going to tell you a lot of blah, blah, blah,” he said. “You’re talented. But whether you believe you are or not, I think you ought to keep your drawings.” He picked up another paper. This time a little sigh slipped out. He did that sometimes as he bent over. “You worked hard on these. That’s something you should be proud of.”
“But they aren’t any good—” I started.
“Hard work,” he interrupted, his voice louder, “is always something you should be proud of. Now maybe they weren’t exactly what you hoped for, but if you were to work hard again, maybe they would be.” He picked up the rest of the pages without another word and set them on the corner of my desk. Then he left without closing the door behind him.
Kind of a strange talk.
I looked at the pages on my bed for a moment. I looked at my pencils and my pens. I had worked hard. What other kid with my eye problems would even try? Maybe he was right.
I picked a page up. The lines of Squint’s arm didn’t meet right. One of the panel’s outlining boxes was tilted.
Nope.
I dropped the page.
Back to my bed and the ball.
My phone beeped.
I pulled up the screen. Inside a bubble were the words: “Watch a new post from ‘Danny’s Challenges.’”
I clicked it without thinking. It would be a nice distraction.
Wait. How was there a new video? Danny wasn’t around anymore. My phone had read me his obituary. His family buried him. This had to be some weird glitch.
Danny’s face appeared, nearly taking up the whole screen. I couldn’t help it. I clicked on the arrow to make the video play.
“I bet you didn’t expect to see me, did you?” Danny said, his wide smile still on his face. “I didn’t think so.” He wagged a popsicle-stick finger.
What was going on? How could this post even be here?
“Well,” Danny continued, “if you’re watching this it means that I’m not around anymore.” He took in a deep breath. “I’m dead.” He looked off to one side. “That sounds really weird coming out of my mouth, but I’ve been planning on it for a long time. I’ve counted on it. I planned my whole funeral, including all the songs.” There was a cut to him bobbing his head while some twangy country song played. Then a clip of him rocking out to some hard metal song. Then him looking really concerned while the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz sang, “Ding, dong, the witch is dead.” If it had been a better day I would have laughed out loud. “I even wrote my own you-guly . . . oo-guly. Oh, I never know how to say that. Just a minute. I’ll be right back.” Again, he left in his mistakes. There was a jump cut, then he sat there with a huge smile on his face and said, “Eulogy! If you were there I hope it was epic.” He spread his thin arms out wide. “Best funeral ever.”
I had never heard that phrase spoken before. Especially not with a smile
on the speaker’s face.
“I hope you had a beautiful Mass and heard some great stories at the wake,” Danny said. “And I hope you smiled more than you cried.” He leaned forward a little. “But I do hope you cried a little. I mean, I am kind of awesome.”
I could guarantee that McKell cried more than a little.
“But,” he said, “I found out a way to post stuff after I’m gone.” The camera came in close. “I know that’s both cool and a little creepy.” He let out an “ooohh” sound, like a ghost haunting. Well, a very high-pitched sounding ghost. “I actually hope it will be more cool than creepy.” He crossed his thin fingers. “I hope.”
“But I have something to say.” He scooted closer to the camera. “I—” he whispered. “I hid a million dollars in a special place and only those of you who follow my clues will ever have a chance to get it.” He stared solemnly into the camera.
His face cracked into a smile. “Just kidding. I’ve never had close to a million dollars. And if I did, you’d better believe that I’d have paid my hospital bills, taken my family on several trips to the Bahamas, and bought my sister a whole bunch of ukuleles.”
How could he be making jokes? When he filmed this, he knew he was going to die. He made extra videos for his family and his followers, and they were funny? What kind of kid was this?
“No,” Danny continued. “I’ve thought about death for a long time and I decided to do this. I’ve still got some more challenges in me. And,” he paused for a second, “some of you might be sad.” A new challenge might be the perfect thing to help McKell.
Danny wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t want anyone moping around.” The video cut to a different view. “If you are moping around, I’m going to come back from the dead to haunt you.” He acted like a ghost again before continuing. “Here’s a new challenge.” His eyes danced. “I think you’re going to like it.”