Beautiful Sorrows by Mercedes M. Yardley

already dead. For the most part. And we’re going to try again tomorrow. I need your help, Jake.”
    So we did.
     
    —
    Nothing worked. We tried poison, guns, knives. I pushed him off of buildings, ran over him with cars and set him on fire. That one almost burned down the shed.
    “This sucks,” I said, after my father berated me for “acting out.” “Dad totally thinks I’m an arsonist. He’s getting creeped out seeing me parade in and out of the house with all sorts of different weapons. Obviously this isn’t working.”
    “What about that wrench?” Billy said, perking up. “What if you just, you know, crack me over the head a good one? Think that will work?”
    “It’s worth a try,” I sighed, and thonked Billy as hard as I could right over his eye. He jerked, fell backwards, and faded away. I wasn’t at all surprised to see him sitting on my bed after I came up from dinner.
    “Not wrenches, either.” He cursed. “This is taking too long. It’s been weeks already.”
    “Tell me about it,” I said, and he opened his eyes wide. “Man, it’s giving me nightmares! It’s changing the way I’m seeing things, you know. I’m always looking around, wondering exactly how I should go about murdering you. It gets old.” I flopped on the bed, and Billy was quiet for a minute. Which was unusual for him.
    “So I meant to ask you, how are your college plans coming along?” Billy tried to sound disinterested, like it didn’t really matter. College scared the crap out of me, and he knew it. But it’s important to Dad, so it’s supposed to be important to me.
    “Not so well, you know? I signed up to volunteer at the animal shelter, because it’ll look good on an application one day. I meant to spend some time out there lately, but I’ve been kinda busy.” If Billy felt guilty, he didn’t show it. And I didn’t want him to feel guilty, not really. I punched my pillow and Billy looked at me.
    “What?” he asked. His eyebrows were arched.
    “I don’t know. How about...” I went through the options in my head. “What if it has to be something from your house? Something symbolic or something. Could that be the case?”
    Billy perked up. “It’s worth a try,” he said.
     
    —
    After school the next day I stopped off to visit Billy’s mom.
    “Hi, Rose,” I said, hugging her when she opened the door. “How are you holding up?”
    Rose’s eyes turned wet when she saw me, but her smile didn’t tremble at all. “Good,” she said, and hugged me back harder than I thought she had strength for. Billy slipped in through the bedroom window while Rose and I were talking. We weren’t sure if she’d be able to see him or not, but he didn’t want to take the chance.
    “You want to go poke around in his room?” Rose offered after a while. “Spend time with Billy’s memory? If there’s something particularly special to you, feel free to have it. Just run it past me first, will you?”
    “Sure thing, Rose,” I said, and grinned at her. Rose was good people. Even Billy thought so.
    “Go on up, then,” she said. Then she looked me dead in the eye. “Sometimes I feel like Billy is still around. You ever get that feeling?”
    I swallowed hard, but managed to answer in a clear voice. “That’s because he is. He’s right here.” I gestured vaguely upstairs and Rose smiled.
    “You’re a good kid, Jakob. Always were. Always will be. You’re a credit to your mama, may she rest in peace.” She crossed herself with a finger bedecked in rings. Then she went into the kitchen, leaving me to search Billy’s room in private.
    Billy was leaning by his bedroom door at the top of the stairs. He had been listening.
    “Ever check in on your mom?” I asked him, shutting the door. He shook his head and used a sleeve to wipe his eyes. I pretended I was looking elsewhere. Friends do that.
    “No,” he said finally. “It’s too hard.” He cleared his throat and began to go through his room, looking for