LIAM by Kat Lieu

One: William
(11, almost 12, years old)
     
    “Is everything okay?” She pats my head, and as usual I’m quiet, so quiet that I’d probably bore a mime to death.
    “My brother cries like this too sometimes, and ice cream always cheers him up.” She smiles at me. Her brother must be a baby. Or a crybaby, just like me. “Do you want me to get you some ice cream?”
    I shake my head.
    Maybe she’ll leave me alone now. Instead she says, “We’ve met before but weren’t formally introduced.”
    She doesn’t look like I’ve bored her. I like how she’s talking to me, instead of talking down at me.
    When she winks, I feel funny on the inside.
    “My name is Mandi.” She extends her hand for me to shake, but I ignore her gesture.
    I know her and her name. It’s a great name that rhymes with candy. My name, William, rhymes with… What does it rhyme with?
    “Your granny calls you Willie. Can I call you Willie?”
    I shrug. I hate being called Willie or William. So when I’m eighteen, I’m legally changing my name to Liam. Single syllabled names are so much cooler.
    For some reason, though, I won’t mind it if she wants to call me Willie.
    Mandi dabs my cheeks with a tissue. She moves aside the wet bangs that hide my eyes. Normally, I don’t like it when strangers touch me, but I don’t move away from her.
    “You shouldn’t be hiding those beautiful blue eyes,” she says.
    My cheeks grow warm.
    “You, my new friend, need a haircut. Stat. Unless you want me to call you Shaggy from now on?”
    I shake my head. Who, except for Scooby’s friend, wants to be called Shaggy?
    Her soft fingers remind me of Mom’s touch. More tears flood my eyes. I can’t stop sobbing and sniffling. I must look stupid and ugly, like a baby no one wants.
    Mandi hugs me like we’ve known each other forever. This is nice. Is this what it’s like to have a girlfriend?
    She releases me from the hug and says, “I have a little brother. You have to meet him. His name is Carl and he’s eleven. You’re eleven too, right?”
    I nod. I’m almost twelve, I want to tell to her. I’ve seen her brother before. He’s shorter than me. Skinny. Looks annoying. I don’t want to be his friend.
    I can be her friend though. She’s nice.
    And she’s tall, tall for a girl. She’s probably sixteen or something. I can’t tell. I’m not good at guessing people’s ages.
    “Carl loves to play videogames. When he’s not stuck to the couch, he skateboards and plays handball. What do you like to do?” Mandi’s voice is very pretty, like a Disney princess’s.
    I shrug. I like videogames but lately, I don’t do much but read. Mom and Dad left me with hundreds of books.  
    “I have an idea. When you’re feeling a little better, why don’t we all hang out? You, me, and Carl? What do you say?”
    I wipe my nose. “Okay, I guess.”
    I like the warm smile on Mandi’s face. She’s very beautiful and has long hair like Mom did.
    Mandi is also very nice. Did I mention that already?
    This is the first time we’ve met in person since she, her brother, and their mother moved next door to Grams and me. They moved here a little after… after my parents—both college professors—were killed by a gunman on the campus where they worked.
    The nightmares I have just won’t go away. Again and again, I hear pop, pop, pop in my head. I imagine the fear my parents must have felt. One minute, they were having lunch—at exactly 12:30PM in the school cafeteria—laughing over stories about their students and probably about me.
    The next moment, the gunman’s bullets rained across the cafeteria. My parents never even had a chance against him.
    Fuck.
    This still doesn’t feel real.
    The tears flow again. Mandi hugs me and there’s only silence between us for the next few minutes.
    It’s been over six months since I lost my parents, and I haven’t spoken a word to anyone, not even my granny.
    For some reason, I am able to speak to Mandi.
    When I stop