The Punchline to the Joke Is Asking

“Are we going where I think we are?” I asked, as we walked down a familiar path.
“Yup.” Blaise grinned happily.
“This’ll be fun.” I grinned wickedly, his face mirroring mine. Keisha was too absorbed in her conversation with Brendon and Joe to notice our exchange, but Ryan raised his eyebrows.
“You’ll see when we get there.” I winked, answering his unspoken question.

“Here it is. Your very own rock.” Blaise snickered as we approached the headstone.
“When I said I always wanted a rock, I meant the shiny, used-to-be-coal kind.” I teased, winking. “Then again, ‘flashy’ was never my style.”

Cyan Rachelle Steelle
May 12, 1993 – June 6, 2003
Though we will never know where your bones truly rest,
We’ll hold you forever in our hearts
And our love will weather Time’s great test.

“Aww, Blaise, that’s sweet.” I kissed his cheek.
“How’d you know I came up with that?” he mumbled, blushing. He was nearly as modest as I was, though it was more an asset than a fault with him.
“Because you write sweet, bittersweet things like that, about love and loss and time and tests.” I smiled at him, and he grinned.
“I can’t believe you remember that.” He admitted happily.
“I’d never, ever forget about you.” I released Ryan to properly hug Blaise, who hugged me tightly, tears leaking from his eyes.
“I missed you.” He whimpered, and I shushed him, rubbing his back.
“I missed you, too, buddy.”
“Here, I thought you’d want to do this. I know how you love art.” Keisha extracted a black crayon and a piece of paper from her purse, and I grinned, kneeling down by the headstone.
“What’re you doing?” Ryan asked as I peeled the crayon, then ran it over the paper, which rested flat upon the stone.
“I’m making a rubbing of the writing.” I mumbled, loving even this small, copycat form of art as the crayon marked everything but the words black on the page.
When it was done, I pulled it off, looking at it happily, then glanced at Blaise. “May I?” I raised my eyebrows, grinning wickedly.
“It’s your stone.” He grinned in return, and I laughed, then kicked it over, where the granite split into several large chunks on the hard packed earth around it.
“Why would you do that?” Brendon asked, shocked, as Joe gave me a patronizing look.
“I’m not dead just yet.” I laughed, picking up one of the smaller pieces, the one that had my name, and throwing it as hard as I could, right into the little duck pond by the stand of trees. “And I plan on being around for a long time.” I grinned triumphantly, staring down at the shattered stone by my feet.
[the quote on the gravestone is by me]

-*-

We took Keisha and Blaise back to the buses to meet the rest of the guys, who immediately loved them. They all got along beautifully, like old friends.
I just wished I had two more old friends here with me.

*

I glanced around uneasily, then slid off the bus. It was too early for the rest of the guys to be up, and I didn’t have to worry about meeting Panic! up early to play video games since I was living on Fall Out Boy’s bus.
I sighed in relief when I quietly shut the bus door, then jumped about a mile when a gentle hand rested on my shoulder.
“Jesus, Joe, don’t do that!” I gasped, whirling to face him. He was already dressed, obviously waiting for me.
“Don’t sneak out.” He teased, grinning at me. “Where are you sneaking off to, anyway?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. I could tell he knew, he just wanted to see if I’d be honest.
“Well, there’s a visit I have to pay.” I shrugged vaguely.
“I’m coming with you.” Joe said softly. “You’re still a minor, if they try to keep you, you can’t leave.”
“So you’d kidnap me?” I grinned crookedly, trying not to be so serious.
Joe sighed. “No, but… I’m just going with you, ok?”
I tilted my head a little, confused, studying him. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”
He grinned at me. “They won’t.” He tousled my hair, then linked arms with me as we set off for my parents’ the Nazis’ house.

When we finally reached the ornate front door, I squared my shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it go in a rush. Then I remembered something.
“Did I really…?” I trailed off, pulling the chain from around my neck. It was the one with the skeleton key for back home in New York, and the key to my apartment in my Chicago. And the little brass key that opened this door.
I stared at it, wide eyed. “I kept it?” I breathed, incredulous, undoing the claps and removing the brass key, re-hiding the chain and other keys beneath my shirt. I studied the vaguely familiar contours of the shining teeth for a moment, then closed my fist around it hard enough that the metal bit into my palm, shredding the skin raw but not drawing blood.
Then I used that fist to knock on the door.

When one of the oak double doors swung open, a butler stood there. I recognized him, but he didn’t remember me. I’d hated him as a child, and stayed well away from him.
“Fetch the Steelles, for me, sir.” I sneered, remembering how to be a rich snot to make him listen.
“Of course, Madame. Would you like to come inside?”
“No, thank you, I wish to keep this visit brief. I fear they will find my company to their distaste. I wish only to return something of theirs.”
“Very well, Madame. One moment, please.” The butler shuffled off to ‘fetch the Stelles’.
“I’d laugh if you weren’t so serious.” Joe mumbled, and I had to fight not to crack a grin.

“Good morning, Madame, Reynolds has informed me you have something to return-” The bald man’s words died on his lips as he caught sight of Joe and I standing in the doorway, and his wife froze behind him, her peroxide blonde hair bouncing slightly from her sudden stop.
“Cyan?” She breathed, shocked.
“I figured you’d want this back instead of me selling it to some burglar.” I said, holding out my fist.
The man automatically held out his hand, which I dropped the key into as he blinked at me in awe.
“Why didn’t you come back?” He breathed, staring down at me.
“Because I’m not a Nazi.” I growled.
“We’ll let you be friends with whoever you want, but please, come home for good. We miss you.” Mrs. Steelle cut in.
“No. I can’t stomach your intolerance for people who look and believe differently from yourselves.” I shook my head. “And I won’t have you drugging me anymore.”
Mrs. Steelle’s face crumpled, and I almost felt bad until the Skinhead directed his attention at Joe.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Joe Trohman.” He said tonelessly, not wanting to start a fight but not wanting to make friends.
“How do you know our daughter?”
“I’m not your daughter.” I shook my head. “This isn’t my home. It never was. We never loved each other, and you didn’t miss me.” I met his gaze levelly. “You felt guilty, and you were upset because your wife couldn’t have another child. I was a one in a million chance, and I was your biggest mistake.”
Mr. Steelle studied me intently, even sadly, but didn’t argue.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, nodding in understanding. “You never wanted me, anyway. You wanted a kid you could raise to carry on your sick Reich.”
Them man nodded slowly in return as tears slid down his wife’s face.
“Hey, M- Mrs. Steelle, don’t cry.” I mumbled, feeling a little guilty as she started sobbing, then ran off.
“She’s crying because you’re right.” Mr. Steelle admitted.
“I know.” I sighed. “She always did that.”
Mr. Steelle smiled, barely. “She still does.”
I smiled back, as best I could.
“I don’t want there to be bad blood between us anymore.” I said, meeting his gaze after looking at the doorjamb for a moment.
He nodded. “You always were very mature for your age.”
“Thanks.” I mumbled, dropping his gaze. It was the first compliment he’d ever given me. I swallowed a bit, then glanced up at him. “I won’t be coming back, after this.” I informed him, not letting my voice shake. I felt Joe put his arm around my shoulder, and leaned into him, drawing comfort from his closeness.
“I think that’s best.” Mr. Steelle agreed quietly, both of us sad because, even though we’d never liked each other, we still had that blood tie. There weren’t a lot of things thicker than blood, so it was a hard tie to sever. Painful, too.
“Do you have a legal guardian?” he asked, and I shrugged.
“Not really.” I admitted.
“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I wanted to come with you.” Joe cut in, and I glanced at him in surprise as Mr. Steelle shot him an inquiring look.
“I… want to adopt her.” Joe finished