“Back to the other side.”
He trots all the way around the skylight again to the far stairwell where we first emerged, bouncing on his feet way more than necessary. Maybe he wants to show me something about the glass pyramids, like the sun shining through them to make rainbows.
“Don’t stand so close to the edge!” I shout.
“It’s fine!” He puts his right foot back against the short wall, as if to push off from it. He crouches. “Okay, wave your Magic Wand!”
Somehow I knew, but I didn’t want to believe it …
“You’re not going to jump it, right?!”
He grins, laces his fingers together, cracks his knuckles, and he bends his neck to crack that, too.
“Piece of cake! Come on, wave your wand!”
“No way! Let’s go! Come on! The guard’s coming—I can hear him!”
I can’t really, but I wish I could and I don’t know what else to say. Nolan’s too far away to reach. I wouldn’t be any match for him anyway. Besides, he must be teasing. He won’t really do this.
“C’mon!” I yell. “Let’s go!”
He drops his head and his arms to dangle loosely. “All right, fine, I’m coming!”
Phew.
Nolan launches forward and runs straight toward me …
“NO!”
His third step slips in the gravel—he recovers and keeps sprinting …
“STOP!”
He jumps, grinning …
The toe of his trailing foot brushes the top of the first glass pyramid, just enough to tip him forward, arms spinning wildly …
It’s not over quickly. There’s no mercy in it. He crashes down heavily on the skylight, his knees punching through separate panes of glass, knocking him sideways as some pyramids shatter and others stay intact. Nolan tangles up in broken glass and metal rods, scrabbling desperately to grab something, anything, but everything he touches is jagged and sharp. His pained, contorted face is lined with bloody cuts—
“NOLAN!”
The entire framework collapses and he’s gone.
HAMSTER IS RUNNING
HUMMINGBIRD IS FLYING
HAMMERHEAD IS SLOGGING
HANNIGANIMAL IS CRASHING/MIXED
The skylight looks the same, rebuilt to match the antique original. Like it never happened.
I’ve lost track of time. I don’t remember walking around to the far side of the roof where Nolan started his run. I don’t remember sitting, or making this mound of gravel for the Magic Wand to stand up in. I don’t remember starting to cry. I came to say good-bye, which meant letting Nolan all the way in, and this is why I never do that. I lose my mind every time.
His doctor called it subintentional suicide. That’s when you take life-threatening risks to fool yourself into committing suicide without admitting it. It’s why Sofia got locked up for mixing a bunch of pills without going full overdose. It’ll take her a while to convince them she wasn’t subconsciously trying to exit through the roof.
They said Nolan was having an episode of dysphoric mania, but I know he wasn’t. He was showing no signs of darkness. He was just excited. He wasn’t trying to leave this world, subintentionally or otherwise. He was trying to live in it as completely as possible. It’s a critical difference. Night and day, really.
Mom yelled at Aunt Joan that meds were keeping me from ending up like Nolan, but I was the only one with him at the end, so how could she know? Except it makes sense, now that I let myself think about it. Why wouldn’t I end up like him? My symptoms hadn’t come in a big way yet, but he talked as if he knew they would. We were two of a kind, he’d said. No one understands us, or knows what it’s like to be us, or will ever treat us like other people. We’ll always be ‘special’ and get ‘handled’ so we had to stick together.
The truth is, the skylight only looks scary. I watch people jump this far all the time before school. I’m pretty sure I jumped farther myself with bloody bare feet. Nolan was just goofing off too much. He slipped but didn’t go back to start again. He didn’t aim between the pyramids well enough. And he jumped into the wind. It was just an accident. Bipolar disorder had nothing to do with it. Nolan died because he was a jackass.
But I’m not. I don’t clown around. I take my meds. Everyone thinks they have to keep me under a microscope since I got built with the same broken parts as Nolan, but we’re not the same in the ways that killed him … and now, thinking about this, I know how to prove it …