Soria Girl

Crash Spencer is dead.

Don’t believe me? I’ll say it again:

Crash Spencer is dead.

They say he was dead after Aliyah and Kobe dragged him on the rollercoaster for the millionth time. They rode it, and once it stopped, he just lay there limp. No dramatic exit, he just went peacefully.

Just like him.

Peaceful.

No need to make a big stink out of it. Crash died and that was that. Right? For Aliyah, wrong. Rumor has it that she freaked out, grabbing him and crying while the ambulance tried to take him away. That was just her, though. They were siblings, the best of friends whether they knew it or not. And I’m positive that when she was coming to terms with his death, he was up in Heaven crying just like she was.

And another thing - you know that feeling of suffocating you get when you cry real hard? I had a theory that it was because an angel was holding you tight and trying to stop you from crying. I don’t know, that’s just what I think.

Now, I’m not saying I wasn’t freaked out about Crash dying. In fact, when Kobe told me the next morning, I could have fainted if he said it any quicker. Crash was one of the first real friends I’d ever had, and it hurt knowing I wouldn’t see him again for another seventy years. But…the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this was kind of like leaving Claymore. It was like having Ren, Luke, and Brendan ripped away from me all at once, without a fair warning.

They were my brothers.

But Crash…well, Crash was Aliyah’s blood brother.

I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to lose the same kid you once shared a womb with. The Spencer twins were closer than close, sticking together like family was supposed to. They looked at each other as equals, no matter what names they’d call one another. They were still twins, more alike than they’d want to admit.

In a blur, Aliyah was at my door, crying and sobbing, throwing her arms around me like I was her lifeboat. “He’s…he’s gone!” she gasped, soaking my shirt. It was sort of funny the way she overreacted, but I didn’t dare laugh.

I can’t say I truly felt her pain, but I felt her. The poor kid was just a bundle of emotion, never pausing for what felt like decades. Gradually, she quieted down, pushing me away gently. She looked at the floor and then at me, parting her mouth to say something. Nothing came out, so she inhaled and exhaled deeply and tried again.

“Soria,” she stammered, “will you speak at Crash’s funeral?”

I nodded furiously, too overcome with either joy or shock. “Of course! Yes!” I gasped.

I never regretted agreeing to that.

- - -

“Crash was a hero to many. Sure, he may have been quiet and always deep in thought. But he never upset anyone. The way he died was the way he was - quiet and peaceful, never disturbing anybody.

“I knew Crash since he first moved to Santa Monica. I was seven years old and the Spencer twins were barely six. They had come to my house, asking to play a game of tag. Aliyah was open and friendly, but Crash was silent, just following her around. But through the years I saw him mature and open up to the kids in the neighborhood, simply because we all grew up as one.

“And even when I recently moved back, Crash was shy. He’s still a hero. Never once have I seen him harm another being. He’s one of the smartest kids I knew, looking out for others with a helping hand. Sure, he’s always been that way. And if he were still here, I’m sure he’d still be extending his heart out to those who needed it. We all grow and he’s still growing in Heaven, I’m sure. ‘Cause nobody stays the same forever.

“…I hope Crash knows we’re thinking of him. Amen,” I finished, stepping down into the pews. The tears were all over my face from trying to wipe them mid-sentence, but there was no use. Everyone else was crying their hearts out, and this was a time to come together with no secrets.

Aliyah pulled me into an embrace. She said nothing and her face wasn’t streaked with tears, but I understood. Sometimes there’s a point where you can’t cry anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but she shrugged in response.

“I’ve heard that about a million times all week,” she said back, trying to smile. “It’s just been real tough not having a bro by my side.”

I nodded, admiring her. When he first died, she was completely broken, but now she was just…I don’t know. Mature. She had guts to take all this and crack a smirk. That could have been her light shining through, though, but it didn’t matter. Aliyah was optimistic and that made me smile too. I was proud knowing she came through. Crash wouldn’t want to see her cry.

“I’m just glad I ain’t alone here,” she added, glancing around the church. I raised an eyebrow and asked for clarification. “It’s like everyone here’s lost someone in the past year. Like, Kobe lost his dog, and you lost your buddies.”

I blinked. “Yeah.”

Aliyah patted my shoulder. “S’alright. You know…gotta swallow the pain and play the game.”

I wanted to write down all the words she said, because truer ones couldn’t exist. She was right - we always have another day. A brand new sheet of paper to doodle upon, a new pair of socks to wear.

I smiled wholeheartedly. “True that.”

She held her hand out for a side-five and after some mingling with her parents, I was in the car heading back to the house with Dad. He was quiet. Quiet, but not out of things to say.

“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry. About Crash.”

Oh, how sincere.

Still, I nodded my head along. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, the kind of day that Crash may have manipulated.

Dad held my shoulder as we pulled to a stop at a red light, grinning wider and more genuine than I’d ever seen.

“Soria…I…I’ve decided…to retire.”

My heart stopped for a second. “…What?”

He looked me in the eyes, still smiling, but softer this time. “I mean, I…I just…don’t want any more pressure on you. I didn’t know how to tell you any other way and I figure now might be a good time….maybe some good news or something…”

Man, that struck my heartstrings. It made me smile just like he was, but I turned my head so I was looking out the window. Something about showing affection was kind of weird and I wasn’t used to it.

Dude, I was almost crying for the second time that day.

“Hey Dad?”

“Yeah?”

I elbowed him. “You gotta tell me this crap ahead of time.”