Bruno Read Online Free PDF

‘our spot’. He turns on the headlights and blasts the same radio station we listened to on the way there. He bows at the waists and asks me to dance. Giggling, I greedily accept.
    And that’s how we spent our homecoming night; dancing the night away, under the moon and stars, on a hill in the woods, with nothing but headlights and fireflies to light up the ground around us. It really was magical.
    We only danced to slow songs. They are much more intimate than the “shake-your-butt” songs. I stayed in his arms for hours, moving slowly back and forth to the words of love coming from the car speakers. I felt his heartbeat, I felt his hands on my back, and sometimes, I felt his hands playing with my hair. I felt safe when he was holding me, because if someone tried to take him from me, even if that someone was death, I could squeeze him tighter and never let him go.
    After what seemed like minutes, but was really hours, we made the responsible choice to get back into the car and head home. I know my brothers would be demanding to know where I was. I check my phone and have 15 new texts and two new voicemails. Melanie told me I won homecoming queen. Last year that was all I wanted, but now, all I wanted was Bruno.
    My dad left the porch light on for me, just like he always does. Bruno walks me to my front door and tells me this was the best night of his life. I want to tell him it was mine, too, but I can’t find the words.
    He squeezes me tight before I walk into the house. He doesn’t kiss me, but I don’t mind. There are tons of kisses from him in my future. I push my forehead up against the glass window and watch his car disappear in the darkness. I sigh heavily and take off my coat. A piece of paper drops from one of the pockets. I open it up and in red crayon, (probably borrowed from Alex), Bruno had written: “AMORE VINCI OMNIA.”  

 
     
     
    FIVE
    SQQQQQQQQQQQUEKKKKK
    Ugh, I hate the sound old doors make. I’m glad my parents weren’t stingy with the WD-40. Nothing in my old Victorian house creaked anymore.
    Bruno’s mother had called me, asking me to stop by after school. It’s been three weeks since the dance. I thought I’d see more of Bruno, and for a while I did, but for the past week he’s retreated. I know he’s been getting the necessary tests done, but that’s all I know.
    I don’t remember Bruno’s house being this sterile. It’s like everyone was so busy trying to make someone they love not die, they forgot to live. The toys that used to be scattered on the floor are now sparse. One lone blanket sits in the corner by the window next to a toppled over book. Alex’s doing, I bet. Thanksgiving decorations have been placed on the coffee table. I have seen the same decorations last year, and the new ones were one’s Alex had made in school. I pick up the decoration closes to me. It’s of Alex’s hand in the shape of a turkey. I turn it over, and on the back he had scribbled, hardly legible, “I’m thankful for my big brother Bruno.” I set it back down.
    I wrap my arms around me tighter, stretching my Aero hoodie. I feel bad for feeling like I’m in some unfamiliar, scary place and not Bruno’s home. I turn towards the kitchen just as I see Bruno’s mom, Anita, peak her head through the door. “Saige! Come in, come in.” She dries her hand on a washcloth, opening her arms. I smell Italian bread cooking and my mouth begins to water.
    She seats me on one of their weathering table-chairs and hands me a glass of juice. Apple, my favorite. She settles down across from me, and my eyes focus on her face for the first time in a long time. It’s amazing how much a year of sadness can make you age. Or maybe it really isn’t facial features that age, but just the care-free out-look she once had has been replaced with the realization that everything isn’t always going to be rainbows and butterflies.
    As she sirs the coffee that she has gotten for herself, she asks me how I have