The Life and Afterlife of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

wonderful, well turned out young man.  Unfortunately, this made the rift between Russ and his parents even wider. 
    My memories of days spent with him are filled with happiness and camaraderie, but of course not all our time together was like that.  A storm was brewing, one big enough to break even the strong bond between us; one that would cause two best friends to hate one another for a while, with an intensity neither of us had ever felt before.
    Russ, Lucy and I had all known each other since primary school.  Our parents were friends so we spent a good deal of our younger lives at each other’s houses.  We once built a treehouse together that we used to spy on people, pretending that each person we saw approaching us had some deep, dark secret and trying to guess what it was.  Lucy was very much the tomboy back then.  All dirty knees and wild hair, she didn't play with dolls or care about makeup.  She was one of the boys, and if you tried to tell her otherwise she would kick you on the shin.  Later I loved to remind her of those days and she would mostly roll her eyes at me... then kick me on the shin.  I guess she hadn't changed much after all.
    We would have stone skimming competitions by the river and out of the three of us she was always the best at it.  Russ and I would scratch our heads and watch her technique for hours and still couldn't fathom how she did it.  She was also the best goalie our junior team ever had.  She was a tiny thing too, with pale skin and a mass of mahogany curls.  She was focused and determined, tenacious even as a child, and she drew me and Russ in like bees around a honey pot.  There was something about her combined innocence and stubbornness that was fascinating to us.
    Feeling melancholy once again, I pushed these thoughts aside and watched as my mother drove home, her face drawn, eyes dull.  She was a strong woman, but I could tell she wasn't sleeping or eating properly.  In the short time I'd been gone she had lost weight, her collarbones visibly protruded through her skin where they never had before.  I watched her park the car and walk into the house I had grown up in, where my father was waiting.
    "Why didn't you tell me you were going to the florist’s?" he asked gently.
    "It was something I needed to do alone," she replied.
    My father walked towards her, concern in his eyes. My mother looked at him with a helpless expression on her face.  She was tired and the weight of the sadness I had caused was weighing her down.  Anyone could see she felt shattered and weak, my death was ripping her apart.  My father wrapped her in his arms and began to rock her gently.  He stared into space for a while and slowly his eyes glazed over and shone with fresh tears. Then he said something that made me wish I were there, holding them both tightly.
    "We are all devastated by this, my dearest, but for as long as you need me, I will be here to wake you up every morning, to prop you up throughout the day and to put you to bed at night.  I will be here through the thick of it and I will be watching over you, just like Charlie is right now."
    “He was our only child. The other…” she sobbed.
    “Shhh,” my father cut her off, and pulled her closer to him.
    My dear dad was a good man and I knew he'd watch out for her, but seeing their grief playing out in front of my eyes was causing me immense regret.   I wanted to scream out to them, to embrace them and let them know I was OK, that I had passed on and would see them both again one day.  I detested the barrier between my world and theirs, it made me feel helpless and alone.  Just another thorn in Heaven's glistening crown.
    I couldn't watch any more, I decided I wanted to see the goofy face of my best friend instead.  A friend who had made it his lifelong mission to make me laugh until my eyes filled with tears and my breathing became sharp and desperate.  A friend who loved me even after I left a wide hole in his