“I hate math. Every trimester… “Why is it that I can’t do better than a B in math every single trimester?” I asked myself. “Like, I’m already in eighth grade, and I can’t ever get one single A!” “Aww, relax, Felix,” my friend Antonio said, peering at the paper over my shoulder. “I mean, you passed, right? You’re not going to get held back or whatever.” “Well, I guess so, but it’s the only subject where I do worse than an A-.” “Felix, you know you have an A+ in physical education?” “Well,” I said, “like that’s going to amount to anything. It’s just PE, guys. ” “Well, okay then. We’re going to go to get some sodas. See you later, bro.” Pablo, a kid with short black hair and a backwards baseball cap who I hung out with every day, punched my shoulder, and they walked away, leaving me with my dad and sister. “Don’t worry, you did great. You tried your best, and that’s what matters," Dad said. “Yeah, and I got three B’s! You should be glad, big brother,” Bridgette, my younger sister, mentioned. I laughed and rubbed my shoulder a little. Ow. “Okay, then. Let’s go home.” Still, I was worried when we got into the car. Would I be a dumb person forever and have nothing to do but run fast? It wasn’t really what I wanted. I would find out the next day. Though I studied a little bit, just so my brain knows a bit, I strayed off. The next thing I knew, it was already here. This was it. The challenge of a lifetime. A sixth period history test. Well... I tried. Believe me, I really did. D+. Maybe I needed to lower my expectations... On Sunday, my friends and I met up, and we’re at the movies, when suddenly- “Hey, Big F, old buddy, can you pay for me today? I left my wallet at home, and that was where all my money was.” “Yeah, me too!” said James. “You forgot me!” “Seriously, guys, pay yourselves...” “Please, Big F, just do us a favor...” said Pablo. I sighed and wasted my birthday money. The movie and popcorn was pretty good, though. When we went to the pizza place for some dinner afterward, Pablo and his friend Bobby J stopped us outside. They whispered for a minute. While others just stood around, I waited impatiently, tapping my foot. My stomach was grumbling, and it was a dark blue color in the sky. I shivered, wishing I had brought my jacket. I am just about to grab Pablo and tell him that if I don’t eat soon, I will die of starvation when I catch in on their conversation. “Dude. We gotta do this.” “Let’s get Felix to go in, he can run really fast. You hear, he got an A+ in PE! That’s some swag.” “Ha. Any old man can run fast. Fine, we’ll let Felix do it.” I wondered what they were talking about, especially me. Why does my PE grade have anything to do about getting pizza? Suddenly, Bobby J turned around and faced me, as if he knew I was listening to them right behind them. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Listen to Pablo. Now.” “Hey, what’s this all about? I just want pizza.” “Big F, can you do us a favor?” Pablo looked me in the eyes with a slight grin, some sunglasses hanging crookedly off his face. “What is it?” “Okay, when I run out with the pizza, just look out for me. Those dudes with the pizza mess with me all the time.” “Oh. Sure,” I said. Is that all this was about? I waited. I looked inside occasionally, and all I could see was Pablo and Bobby J waiting for fresh pizza. As soon as the Chinese cashier guy there called out a name, Pablo and Bobby J grab the pizza from him and rushed out. Scrambling through the door, they ran past me, and I have no choice but to follow. All the other boys scattered. The guy yelled what was probably really rude in Chinese. “Nasty kids!” As soon as we are safe, I yelled at Pablo. “Did you just steal that pizza!” “Nah, we was borrowing it!” “We’re not friends anymore! Okay? Goodbye!” I stormed away. So much for friends. A week later, Pablo was still the biggest thing on my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he did. He really was a bad kid. How on earth did I become friends with him in the first place! I couldn’t comprehend anything. At school, Pablo stopped talking to me. I stopped talking to him. Somehow, I feel lonelier. The days breeze by. Suddenly, it’s weeks later, and we’re at home watching basketball and having dinner. Of course, right at the end of the game, Dad’s phone rang. However, when he announces it’s our grandma, Bridgette and I scramble to the phone. We like talking to our grandparents, who live out in California. We, of course, live in Utah, which relatively isn’t far, but an EXTREMELY long drive (or short plane flight). “Hi, Grandma, how’s it going?” Bridgette says into the phone. “Tell Tori we said hi!” Tori is the name of our grandparents’ cat. I think she likes us when we visit because we spoil her so muchwhenever we visit. “Well, kids, I’m afraid I have some bad news...” She seemed hesitant. “May I speak with your father?” “Hi, Mom,” my father said. “Hello, Stewart! Can we make this a private conversation, please? Thanks..” She sounded concerned, as if something was wrong. “Is something wrong, Grandma?” I asked. “Where’s Grandpa? I want to talk to him.” “Oh, Felix...” she said. “We’ll talk later. Stewart?” “Got it. ” And with that, my dad turns off the speakerphone and goes into his room. I wondered what they were talking about. I couldn’t hear much, but I think there was sobbing. When he came out of his room half an hour, his eyes were red. What had Grandma told him? It must certainly have been bad news. He slumped onto the couch, his face expressionless. “Dad? Are you okay?” I asked. “Actually, I’m not okay,” he responded. “Felix, Bridgette… well..” “What, Dad?” “Your grandfather is dying.” Severe pneumonia. That’s what Dad says it was all about when he sits me down at the kitchen table to talk about what was going on and what Grandma had talked to him about. Now, my mother actually lives far away, in China (long story), and wouldn’t be contactable for a while (another long story), so we would just have to go visit him ourselves. He explained this and how this is a big thing, his father going into a very bad state. By then, tears had sprung to my eyes. Bridgette was confounded and just stared. “Dad, what are we going to do? We can’t just stay here and wait for him to get sicker!” “No, this is what your grandmother was talking to me about.” “Felix, we’re going to California!” It is soon a blur of packing up as fast as we possibly can, Bridgette not 100% knowing what is going on but trying to help anyway. Dad has to call the school district for an uncalled leave, and he promises us we won’t need to get busted out of school in the middle of a lesson. Instead, we’ll find a quick flight and leave Monday night, missing a total maximum of four days of school. When I got to school and slumped into my seat, I was a wreck. I was jittery and can’t think about anything to write at all for my English narrative. In science, I almost tipped over and broke a microscope. By the time I got home, I just wanted to get onto the plane and get to California. Even worse, none of my friends have even CARED to notice my terrible state. My dad updated me on the situation. “Okay, I already booked three tickets, but we need to be at the airport in four hours. Your teachers emailed me all the work you will need to do to make up the school days.” And with that, Dad handed me a thick manila envelope. I groaned when I realized it was packets of homework and reminded myself to add my school textbooks to my luggage. “Well, let’s get on outta here, I guess,” I said after fully packing and cooking myself a grilled cheese and getting some food in my stomach. “The airport’s half an hour away.” “Right, right. Where’s Bridgette?” “Uh, she’s been waiting in the car for ten minutes. I think you need to inform her of the gravity of the situation.” Actually, Bridgette had been quite happy to pack her bags to visit her beloved relatives, not fully knowing one would leave her in life, and soon. I finally accepted that we were going to do this, and sighed. “Let’s go.” Well, the flight was long. Now, my wonderful grandfather had always been a kind and loving man. A few times, when I was around four years old, he drove all the way to Utah, spent a night at our house, and drove back, but with me in the backseat. First, we’d go and play with Grandma and Dad’s sister, who was still living with Grandma. (My aunt currently lives in a different part of California, but it’s around a 20-minute drive away.) Then, we would go to the library or the movies and watch or read whatever we wanted. To finish up, we would go to a restaurant and eat up all the food. We would get back to my grandfather’s house tired, but content, and we would sleep in the big bed in Grandpa’s room. Eventually, these trips ended, and Grandpa drove for hours to bring me back to Utah. This was quite a feat, as this trip took up almost AN ENTIRE DAY. It was fun to go to drive-thru places on the way and order stuff, though, but Grandpa always stayed very healthy. When I got older, we started playing chess together. When the whole family went to Las Vegas a couple of times, he was the one buying me stuffed animals. He had always been there for me, no matter what. Now, I have to deal with him leaving permanently. “Wake upppp!!” “Argh!” I opened my eyes, and Bridgette is staring into my eyes. I jump up, nearly hitting my head on the plane’s ceiling. I blearily looked around, realizing that Grandma is going to pick us up from the airport. We scramble off the plane. Time to see Grandpa. Nervously, we leave the airport, greet Grandma, and brace ourselves for whatever awaits us. We’re at the house, shoes off, half our stuff unpacked, and it’s time to see him. I was afraid. I’m not afraid of my grandfather himself, of course, or any other human itself. Rather, I was afraid of what happened when a human left this world. Would it be heaven? Reincarnation? Or simply nothing at all? Sadly, Grandpa would soon find out. We entered his room. He is sitting in his bed, eyes barely open. It was clear that this virus was affecting him, and hard. He looked sickly, green, and older than he really was. His face was creased with pain, his dark hair ruffled. I was ashamed that I backed out of the room, but I couldn't help it. What happened to cheery, loving Grandpa? I calmed myself. Took deep breaths. I could hear murmuring already in the main bedroom. I stepped inside. In that room, we are all one. We grieved, prayed, sang. Talked about the wonderful and fantastical person he was. We did what we can to ease his pain, as well as ours. After thirty minutes, Bridgette and I left the room. The only thing I regret is not being there when he died. The rest was a blur. The funeral, seeing, burial. All it did was give me sadness. People came to me, saying, “I’m so sorry for your loss...”, but I didn’t believe them. My grandfather was a wonderful man, and if they didn’t know him very well or anything, it was their loss. When we went home, all I felt like doing was collapsing on the ground and weeping. School comes back. Homework, friends, grades, teachers, stress, death, it all was jumbled together in my mind. I go through school feeling lonely. Until my friends (not all of them, sadly) picked me back up. We walked around a lot, just playing around and eating food from the local convenience store. They kept my mind off the recently deceased. Life started to look up. My dad received a promotion at his new job. My mom was coming back home in two weeks. I feel better, but at night I was trying to talk to my grandpa, wherever he was in the afterlife. I just talked and talked, hoping one day when I leave this world we can have a real conversation. Pablo had not said over a dozen words to me in two weeks. He wasn’t really around me anymore. He never fully listened to me. He went off with his own posse a lot more. I had fun hanging out with him, and it was cool being his friend, but when he didn’t care, was it really worth it? And I made up my mind. It wasn’t. Pablo and I went our own separate paths. My grandpa left my path for another. I knew, in my mind. that neither person was really gone. Not really. It’s one year after everything happened. “Now, presenting, the one and only, my talented grandson, Felix!” Grandma announced. People clap. I can see all my relatives and family in the little party we have brought together. We are in a large brick room painted while everywhere. I look up from the podium, my hands shaking, nervously scanning my speech. People are on portable plastic chairs scattered around tables, and food is being consumed. “Um, hello,” I say, slightly nervous. “I’m Felix, and we are gathered here today to celebrate my grandfather moving on to a better place.” People are smiling now. I continued. “When he died, I couldn't believe it. He was the invincible grandpa I had always loved, the wonderful person who always loved me back. He was really, um, awesome, and-” Chuckles from the crowd- “Well, he was the best person you could ask for from a grandpa. Nothing less. He did so much for me, and he was one of those people who made me who I am now. Wherever he is, I hope he’s content. Uh, have a good day, everyone. Thank you.” Applause. I walk off the podium, my eyes shining. Someone else is singing now. I smiled. Hoping that somewhere out there, Grandpa is smiling too. Somewhere…