"It’s been nearly a month now. Twenty nine days, five hours, and forty-two minutes since that frickin truck came around the corner. I feel like I should do something, to like commemorate it. What do you think?" I shifted my head so I was facing King Xenophilius. He croaked twice, which means yes of course you should Casey, and while you're at it, get me some crickets. I'm starving. I like to consider myself a Toad Whisperer.
"Of course I should," I said, scooping the toad up in my hands and stroking his bumpy skin. "You always know the right thing to say." I collapsed back onto my bed, disturbing King Xenophilius. He found a new and utterly convenient position on my forehead.
"Casey!" A shrill shriek that was so high it could have been mistaken for a dog whistle made its way through two floors of solid hardwood. “Come down Dumpling!” My Aunt Cecile calls me Dumpling. It’s weird. I don’t think I in any way resemble a Chinese delicacy. At least, I hope not.
“Oh boy,” I grunted, raising my eyes to meet King Xenophilius’s. “As soon as get downstairs, she’s gonna sit me down on the couch and say ‘Now Dumpling. I know today is the anniversary of...that horrid accident. And I know this month hasn’t easy for you, blah, blah, blah.’ Ugggghhhhh” I buried my face into my pillow, which smelled of Aunt Cecile’s disgusting perfume.
“Dumpling?” I heard her tap heels (Which she calls “vintage,” I call “went out of fashion before they were invented) clicking up the stairs.
----. The last thing I need her OCD eyes to see is my black hole of a room. Quickly, I detached King Xenophilius from my forehead and plodded down the stairs, meeting Aunt Cecile halfway down.
“Oh! You startled me Dear!” She laughed, her blue lipsticked lips stretching into a smile. Yes. Blue. They clashed violently with her polka dot muumuu and magenta face glitter. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think women over twenty should wear that, nevermind sixty year old tap instructors. “Now let’s go to the couch. I’d like to talk to you.” She was right on script.
We settled on on the scratchy tweed, disrupting about twenty years worth of dust and her demonic persian cat, Mr. Kuddle Kins. He hissed at me and settled back onto Aunt Cecile’s lap, leaving behind about five pounds of fur where he was last sitting. The thing looks like a hairball that a white tiger hacked up after a vigorous bath. “Now Dumpling,” she began, right on schedule. I rolled my eyes. “I know today is the anniversary of...that horrid accident. And I know this month has not been easy for you.” Wow! It was like she was reading right off a freaking script. “But-”
“You know what?” I snapped. “You’re right. This month hasn’t been easy for me. And you’re really not doing anything to help.” I shoved her veiny hand off mine, got up, and stomped to the door, slamming it behind me.
I pedaled furiously down the street, seething in anger. All around me, cars honked, dogs growled, and people shouted, but it was all a blur.
“Who the heck does she think it is?” I muttered to myself. “She doesn’t get what I’ve been through. All she cares about is that stupid furball.” I turned sharply, and slowed to a stop by the town park, resting my bike against the grimy swing set.
“Jeff?” I called cautiously. Knowing him, he was probably hacking into the Pentagon with one hand, while simultaneously rewiring the school’s computer system with the other. “Hello?” My voice echoed off the interior of the slide and bounced back to me.
“Up here, Case,” I looked up and saw him, lounging across the monkey bars, accompanied by his ever-present sidekick, his trusty Macbook Pro. “And it’s not Jeff today. I’m feeling more....Waldo-ish right now.” Jeff, or should I say Waldo, changes his name on a regular basis. When I first met him in third grade, he called himself Grover. Last week he was Elvis. Everyone went along with it. His parents faithfully signed whatever name he had chosen on their Christmas cards each year. There was no stopping the boy.
“That explains the shirt.” I smirked and tugged on his tomato red and white striped turtleneck. He actually kind of resembled the character, tall, thin, and a bit awkward looking, with an unruly mop of brown hair and glasses that looked like they more belonged on Harry Potter.
“So what’s up Case-Face? How be the high and mighty King Xenophilius?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from the laptop. “And isn’t today the day that..yah know,” he stopped, kind of awkwardly.
I looked down. “He’s fine and dandy and toadish. And yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“Sooo...are you going to do anything?” He shoved his glasses back up his face, where they were slipping down the bridge of his long nose. He looked kind of flushed. “I would have thought that your aunt would have had you guys make cookies in the shape of your parents, or build a shrine, or something weird and hipster like that.”
“Well, I think she was trying to get me to do something like that. But she started to go all New York therapist on me, and so here I am.” I shuffled my feet, which were becoming increasingly interesting by the minute. “So, I was wondering...do you want to do something creepily sappy and totally unlike me, like visiting their grave or something with me?” For some reason, I was getting all nervous around him, which had been happening to me for the last few weeks.
He jumped down from the monkey bars and landed ninja-like on his feet, skillfully grasping his computer. “Anything for my favorite Toad Whisperer. Let’s go.”
Leaving our bikes behind, we meandered to the Everwood Cemetery, picking two wildflowers along the way. I did that totally sixth-grade thing where I let my hand swing freely beside his, in case he wanted to hold it or something. He didn’t.
When we got there, I navigated my way through the maze of graves, until I stopped at a plain, in-the-ground one that read “Natalie and Christopher Phillips, loving parents, son, daughter, and sister.”
“Hey,” Jeff/Waldo said, resting his hand on my shoulder. Chills, the good kind, ran down my spine. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I murmured, dropping the two wildflowers on the grave. I turned sharply on my heel and sped away from the grave.
“Hey! Wait up!” Waldo called, panting as he caught up with me. “So...you’re really fine?” Didn’t he just ask that?
“Yes I’m fine, I just told you that,” I said in annoyance. “Was I crying? No. So I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” he said a bit doubtfully, “but you never cry. Like, ever. You even didn’t cry at your parents funeral. And-” He stopped, mid sentence, realizing he had just hit a nerve.
“Did you really just say that?” I asked, my voice slow and unwavering. “Are you saying I don’t care about my parent’s death?”
“What?” He looked confused. “No, I’m just saying that even though you say you’re okay, it seems like you’re kind of bottling your feelings in.” He held up his hands in defense.
“Oh, so you’re saying I have no emotion?”
“No! I’m just saying that you don’t ever let your feelings show. I’m not trying to insult you, geez calm down.”
“So, by saying that I don’t let my feelings show, you’re complimenting me?” He rolled his eyes in defeat. “I didn’t think so.” As we neared the park, I tore away from his side and roughly grabbed my bike.
“You know,” he called, as I climbed on my bike. “Your aunt’s only trying to help you. Maybe if you actually let someone in once in awhile, you’d actually learn to deal with what happened.”
“Good luck with that,” I sneered, and raced away from him, my legs pumping and anger flaring inside of me.
What had happened to my Jeff? Sorry, Waldo. Where was the boy I had been faithful friends with since third grade? The boy that, on Valentines Day in fifth grade, gave me King Xenophilius instead of chocolate? The guy that I’ve think had a freaking crush since sixth grade? Now all I had was some stranger who told me to listen to my insane aunt and talked about my parents death like it was everyone’s business. Who was he to tell me to listen to what my aunt had to say? He didn’t understand what I had been going through. Nobody did. I was all alone in this freaking world.
When I returned to my aunt’s house, a sickeningly adorable two-story the color of chewed up bubble gum, I flung my bike onto the curb, knocking over two trash cans in the process, and stormed inside, slamming the ratty screen door behind me.
“Yoo-hoo! Is that you Dumpling?” Aunt Cecile’s shrill voice pierced the air and I winced. Was it possible to have maybe, I don’t know, five freaking seconds without someone interrupting my life? Apparently not. Apparently, that was too much to ask of the universe. I stomped right past the kitchen, where she was cooking something that looked like glowing, mutated asparagus that matched her lipstick, ignoring her. I had almost made it up the stairs when...
“Hello dearie! I didn’t realize you were home.” Yeah, I’m sure. The sound of stomping hiking boots is really hard to miss. To my displeasure, she clicked up the creaking stairs to meet me in five inch heels covered in rhinestones and faux fur that matched Mr. Kuddle Kins, the Persian hairball. Oh god. And I thought the tap heels were bad. “I know we had a...difficult moment before. But today is a day to commemorate your parents memory. And I’m sure they wouldn’t want us fighting today.” She smiled so sweetly it made me want to vomit. The heavily made up corners of her eyes crinkled and she held out her arms, pulling me into a hug that nearly suffocated me. I gasped for air like a fish out of water. She reeked of homemade daisy perfume and the alien asparagus, whose odor unfortunately resembled that of a mixture of mothballs and an underground sewage system. Quickly, I pried her saggy skinned, bony arms off of me.
“How do you know what my parents want?” I sneered. “For all you know, they could be watching us from the afterlife cinema, enjoying popcorn and Pepsi. So just leave me out of your wild plans to ‘celebrate’ today.” I turned and sprinted up three flights of stairs, not stopping until I reached the refuge of my attic bedroom.
Out of routine, I picked up my phone and flipped it open. Five new messages from Jeff. “UGH!” I flung my phone as hard as I could against my wall. Didn’t even leave a mark on either of them. I guess that’s the single advantage to having an ancient, at-least-five-hundred-year-old flip phone. They wouldn’t crack if you ran over them with a cement truck.
“Why is everyone trying to control my life?” I groaned, directing my frustration to King Xenophilius. He croaked once, which I took to mean I don’t know. They have their own lives to control. They don’t need to boss you around too. And did you get my crickets?
“Sorry dude,” I said, giving his scaly head a pat. “Didn’t have time to make pit stops today. But I promise I’ll get them tomorrow.
Okay. Don’t forget.
“So what should I do?” I asked, propping my head up on my fists. King Xenophilius eyed my phone. “Oh, please no. He’s been such a jerk.” Three croaks . Look kid. You obviously like him. And, he’s your  best friend. After me, of course. So you’re going to have to make up with him sometime. Why not now?
“You know what?” I said, seriously doubting his judgement skills, him being a toad and all. “You are no help sometimes.” I abandoned him and tip-toed downstairs, carefully avoiding the especially creaky ones. As I neared the kitchen, where the glowing asparagus had mutated into a purple monstrosity, I treaded lightly on my toes, not wanting to risk being caught by her and her flowered muumuu. Like a ninja, I silently pried open the usually creaky front door. Once outside, I was greeted by the brisk evening air and was thankful I had on a hideous (think “Cookie Monster and Elmo had a knife fight with Roy G. Biv”) but thick wool sweater. I mounted my bike and set off into the approaching night, in no particular direction.
Somehow though, I ended up at Everwood Cemetery, right in front of my parents’ grave. I descended my bike and let it drop to the ground, landing with a heavy thunk and screeching of chains. As I traced their names with my finger, my hand started to tremble. Quickly, I pulled it away, disgusted with myself. No. I would not cry. No no no no. I mean, they died a whole month ago. I should be over and done with it by now. But to my disgrace, I felt something wet down my cheek. Horrified, I wiped it away with a quivering finger. This couldn’t be happening. I wasn’t a baby anymore. I wiped away the rest of my forbidden tears and put a hand on my bike, ready to get away from here as quickly as possible.
“Hey.” A voice came from the shadows and I jumped about fifteen feet in the air.
“Geez, Waldo,” I wheezed, sniffing away the last my tears. “Warn a person before you follow them to a cemetery and start talking to them out of the shadows. It can come off as slightly creepy and stalkerish.” My anger just kind of melted away at the sound of his voice.
“But then where’s the fun in that?” He teased, stepping out from behind a gravestone. “Look. I’m really sorry about before, I didn’t mean that you were emotionless or anything. Although it looks like you’ve proved me wrong anyway.” In one swift move, he put his arm around my shoulders. I think I almost fainted.
Trying to regain full consciousness, I started stammering random syllables until my tongue figured out how to fully function again. “It’s okay. I was maybe kind of overreacting just a tad” I spluttered out, my face probably as red as the stripes on his sweater. He could probably hear how fast my heart was beating. It was like I drank a six-pack of RedBull.
“How’s you aunt?” Waldo asked.
“Er...I kind of snuck out after leaving her gaping like a fish at the bottom of the stairs after storming away in a fit of anger..”
“Well that’s not good.”
“Probably not helping our relationship.” He laughed that full-bellied laugh that only guys seem to be able to pull off and goosebumps crawled up my arms.
“You should probably go back and apologize, ya know.” He swept his gaze toward me and when his blue eyes hit mine, if I didn’t have a 100% functioning brain, I would have actually full on swooned, like those ladies from the old black and white movies my aunt makes me sit through every Friday night when they’re on at 8:00.
“Yeah, I know,” I said sheepishly, biting my lip and looking away. 
“So what are we waiting for? No time like the present” He grabbed my hand and started running like a madman toward our neighborhood, grasping me by my fingertips.
As we neared the bubble gum pink monstrosity, I stopped and sniffed the air cautiously and then nearly keeled over from the odor.
“Oh Holy demon monkeys, what is this horrid smell that has befallen me?” Waldo made a face as though experiencing physical pain. Which he probably was, because God knows what effect that asparagus has on anyone without super-secret-smell-resisting powers like my aunt.
I smiled weakly. “That would be the asparagus.”
“If that’s asparagus, then your aunt is from Jupiter.”
“...so what you’re saying is that that’s asparagus,” I retorted.
“No, I’m just saying that your aunt’s from Neptune.”
“Now you’re making sense.” He smiled. My heart leapt. Gah! I made him smile!
“Dumpling, is that you?” The sound of heels interrupted my crushing-ness and I turned to face open arms that sagged like turkey skin just waiting to encase me in a bone crushing hug. Without a second thought, I stepped away from Waldo, right into them. And for just a wilted-daisy scented second, everything was right in the world.