18 Years Earlier

  RING. RING. RING.

  "Tag! You're it!"

  One of the boys started a game of tag seconds after the recess bell rang, signifying 25 minutes of freedom. On this drizzly, crisp morning, dozens of kids chased one another across the playground. Laughter and sharp, playful screams filled the air as the fourth-grade kids scattered to avoid being tagged.

  In the crowd, a little boy set his sights on a girl with wavy blonde hair tied in a neat braid. With determination in his eyes, he started to chase after her. She darted behind the handball court wall. He anticipated it and sprinted around the other side—colliding with her as they rounded the corner and tumbling them both to the ground.

  He sprang to his feet, brushed off the dust, and helped the girl untangle her little white owl necklace from her hair. She smiled at him—bright and quick—and playfully declared, "Thanks! …Tag, you’re it!"

  Jasper couldn't help but smile in return, his heart racing from more than just the running. He took off after her again, grinning, their laughter trailing behind them.

  During lunchtime, Jasper grabbed his tray and hurried to sit beside her. “Hi, Aurea.”

  He offered her his cookie. She took it and smiled. “Thanks.” She glanced at his empty tray and offered him her unopened Lunchable. "You can have it. I don’t want it. I just want the cookie."

  He blinked. Nobody ever gave up a Lunchable. “Really?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he accepted the meal, opening it with careful fingers.

  In class, the two exchanged notes, writing messages behind a book to avoid getting caught. When Jasper grabbed his pencil, his ripped, reddened fingertips caught his eye. He curled his fingers fast, hiding them before jotting a note to Aurea: “Sorry for running into you. You okay?”

  She responded: “Yeah, I'm okay. You got lucky, slowpoke!” With only five minutes left in the lesson, Aurea handed Jasper another note—a question that left him feeling very vulnerable.

  "Jasper, do you like-like me? Yes or No - circle one."

  Nervously, he circled "yes" and wrote the same question back to her. She circled "yes" as well and added a little heart next to her response, eliciting a silent smile from Jasper. Thrilled, he gathered the courage to ask one more thing. He handed her a note that read: "Aurea, will you be my girlfriend? Yes or no - circle one." The bell rang before she could pass it back. As they stood to leave the classroom, she pressed the paper into his palm. Jasper opened it; it said "yes."

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  Overjoyed, he walked beside her, reaching out to grab her hand as they headed toward the pickup line.

  “Bus 12! Craig! Marcus! Natalie! Christy! Jasper! C’mon, your bus is about to leave,” yelled the after-school worker.

  “That’s my grandma!” Aurea pointed to a car in line.

  The two hugged, and Jasper watched as Aurea got in the car safely before he hopped on the bus. Rubbing his reddened fingertips, he found a seat and started picking at the scabs until something startled him.

  “Jasper! Wanna come over today? I’ve got a new Nintendo 64 game. We can play together,” the young boy inquired abruptly.

  Marcus Crosby lived next door. Their moms were friends, so the boys ended up together all the time—especially when the women had “visitors” and made the kids play outside.

  “Nintendo 64?! Lucky. I can’t, my dad is coming to pick me up today. Maybe tomorrow, Marcus? I’ll ask my mom.”

  “Ok!” Marcus smiled back.

  The bus stopped and the driver called out the names. “5th and Walnut! Oakmont Apartments! Jimmy, Lydia, Jasper, Christy, Marcus—this is your stop.”

  The five of them exited the bus and walked through the rundown apartment complex parking lot.

  “Bye, Jasper! See you tomorrow. Let me know what your mom says. Have fun with your dad!” Marcus yelled as they split off.

  “Thanks!” Jasper said, practically bouncing toward home. It had been a few years since he’d seen his dad and he was looking forward to some quality time.

  As he got closer to the slightly ajar door, his heart tightened. He heard an argument inside. He stood behind the door, too afraid to enter, leaning his weight against the wood.

  “You’re a piece of shit father, Miles! You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” His mother’s voice was meant to cut deep.

  Miles exploded. “Mother of the fucking year, huh? Whoring yourself out to men for money—in the same house our son sleeps?”

  Lori fired back instantly. “Maybe if you helped with bills once in a while, I wouldn’t have to, you broke asshole!”

  Miles pulled the door open violently, yanking Jasper down onto the floor.

  “Oh—shit.” Miles froze. “Hey, Jasper. Look, bud… I can’t hang out today, okay? It’ll just make things worse with your mom. Another time, alright?”

  He ruffled Jasper’s hair—a weak attempt at softness that didn’t match his wild eyes. Behind him, Lori hurled a glass.

  “Just fucking go, like you always do!”

  The glass grazed Miles’ head. “I should call the cops on you! Always making things harder than they need to be. You’re lucky the kid is here, Lori!”

  He turned back to Jasper. His expression emptied out—cold, lost. “Bye, kid.”

  His eyes went distant as he turned away. Then he was gone. Somewhere deep inside, Jasper knew he’d never see his dad again.

  He was right.

  Something heavy settled in his chest. He didn’t have words for it.