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It seemed like the perfect time to die.

Alex had been thinking about his death for a long time now, fantasizing about the way he would do it, imagining the look on everyone's faces, the silent vigil and tiny shrine his classmates would come up with. Would they regret not talking to him? Would they regret the way they seemed to look through him? He wondered if anyone at school would truly miss him.

His sister was too little to feel the loss keenly, he knew. She would forget him in a few years, or end up remembering a vague memory, a hopefully pleasant one. Maybe she would remember how he swept her up on his shoulders and ran around the house, even as his mom objected. He loved that she was tiny enough for her to still do that. In those moments, with her happy shrieks in his ear, he could feel happy too. A weak reflection of her elation. He wondered if she ever felt his sadness. He didn't want her to. He wanted her to remember him as the smiling brother who gave her candy. She would need others to tell her what he was like, but maybe no one really knew what he was like. Not even his mother.

His mom had known and loved the child he was, but that love had turned sour some time back. She always seemed harried and annoyed now, angry with the world for everything, and it was getting harder to remember the smiling woman who used to bake him cookies and then pretend she couldn't see him lick the bowl.

Something had soured in him too. He wondered if this was how his mom felt, dissatisfied and disenchanted by everything, unable to get excited about anything. She expressed herself with anger and bitterness. He wished he could feel even that. All he felt was... numb. He felt as if life was passing him by, barely touching him.

He straightened his back and squared his shoulders as his home came into view. Both the adults were home, he saw instantly. They were going to be angry. He was late. He had taken the long way home, crossing the railroad tracks behind his school, wondering if stepping in front of a train was a cool way to go or just plain and old fashioned. He hadn't decided yet.

His mom was too busy cooking dinner to notice him. Someone had annoyed her, because she was muttering obscenities under her breath like she usually did when angry, banging pots and pans to let everyone know not to mess with her. He skirted the breakfast nook and headed towards the stairs, hoping to not be seen. He wondered if his sister had gotten a B again. She was a smart girl, and his mom knew it. Anything below an A was unacceptable for his sister.

Or maybe it wasn't his sister, but her father. He was a nice man, slightly clueless but kind. He had married Alex's mom a couple of years ago, and she had found fault with him ever since. It took fairly little for his mom to find fault with people.

"Where were you?"

He paused, a couple of steps away from his door. So close.

"Alex? Why are you so late?" Max demanded again, his voice stern. It didn't suit him.

Alex turned to stare at his kind, round face. For a second, he imagined telling the truth. I was contemplating the merits and demerits of trains as an element of suicide. "Why is my mom angry?" he asked instead.

Max shrugged, his brow crunching in worry. "Lily got a note from school. She didn't submit a homework paper."

Ouch. He was glad he had some candy in his room. His sister would need it after facing his mother's wrath. He wondered if she was hiding in the laundry room again. It angered him to think of her being scolded for a little homework. It angered him that he could do nothing. She didn't sign up for this. She didn't sign up to be part of this rotten family.

"Where were you?" Max asked again, and this time he forgot to sound strict. Instead, his voice was soft and understanding, his gaze kind. For a second, Alex wondered if he knew what was going on in his head.

"Out," he said, his voice unintentionally clipped. He wanted to get away from this conversation, from the strange compassion in Max's eyes. What did he know about Alex's life?

"I was worried about you," said Max with a smile. "Can you text me next time you are going to be late? I would like to know."

It surprised Alex enough that he nodded without thought, agreeing to his step father's request. He could do that. A simple text to let Max know not to worry. Not yet anyways. There would come a day when he would be late and send no word of it, and maybe Max wouldn't worry too much at first, but then he would know something was wrong. The kind face would crumble into worry, then fear. Alex realized he couldn't imagine what Max would look like when he got the news, or saw his body. It was painful to think about.

But that day was a ways off. It wasn't the right time yet.