shouldn’t care about what you do for them. They should only care that you’re there. You get to decide who gets the title of family. No one else.” I know I was supposed to be talking about Grayson when I said this, but all I could think about was my odd little family. There were the relatives that showed up only when they heard about the money I’d gotten from my parents’ accident. They weren’t my family. There were the high school coaches and teachers who always seemed disappointed that I wasn’t smarter or stronger. They weren’t my family. My family was a short, angry man who couldn’t go three days without starting a fist fight. My family was a 73-year-old woman who made me tea and threw shoes at people she didn’t like. My family was two dogs and a cat who would spend the weekends on the couch with me having movie marathons. That was my family. I realized, though, Grayson didn’t have that. From what I could tell the one person he had considered family was now gone. Grayson’s whole body started to tremble as the choked sobs made their way out of his mouth. His shaking hands dropped the gun and started pulling at his short hair. “Oh God. Oh God!” Grayson started to wheeze in between his pants for breath. I saw this as my opportunity. I took one step forward and pulled him into a strong hug. Surprisingly, he started to hug me back. I’m not sure how long I held him there, allowing him to cry into my shirt, but in that time, I had decided something. This kid, who probably wasn’t even 20, thought he didn’t have anyone anymore, but that wasn’t true. He needed people. He needed a family, and I was willing to let him be a part of mine. I looked at the purple hyacinth that was still in my hand. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t dropped it during the whole ordeal. I thought of how fitting it was that I had decided to pick this flower. The purple hyacinth was supposed to represent sorrow for a wrong committed, and if anyone needed this flower now it was Grayson. I waited until he started to pull away before I let go, and once we were no longer clinging to each other I handed him the flower. He seemed reluctant at first, but he eventually reached out his hand and took it from me. He sat there staring at the little purple petals for a long time before he said anything, and even when he did speak up his eyes never left the flower. “My uncle’s going to kill me,” he said with no emotion. “No,” I responded back to the kid, “He’s not. I won’t let him. We’ll go to the police and get protection for you, okay?” Grayson just nodded, eyes still on the flower. It didn’t look like he was Page 92
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