That I’m here. Not just here in his room, but here in his life. I shuffle closer to him and go in for a hug, but it’s the worst thing I could have done. Aaron bends into me at the waist, but he’s stiff and cold and he doesn’t put his arms round me, just seems to wait until I’ve finished holding him before he springs back upright.“How come you came over?”“I wanted to see how you were.”Aaron waves a hand at his clothing and hair.“Do your parents know?”Aaron says nothing.“You haven’t told them?” That’s worrying, but I don’t want to sound judgemental. “Aaron, you can talk to me.”“I am talking to you.”“Mostly you’re just scowling over my shoulder at the stupid TV and waving your hands around. That’s not talking.”“I’m sorry. My best friend just died. I’m not quite up to polite conversation.”“I don’t want polite conversation.” I’m getting upset – not helped by the fact he just called Neville his best friend. What does that make me?
