he would have actually liked. How could no one know what song he would have wanted?”
Devon squeezed his hand. “Okay, so what song would you want played at your stupid memorial service?”
Hutch sat back up. “First off, my memorial service wouldn’t be stupid. I expect people to laugh at my funeral, have fun. I don’t get why funerals have to always be so sad. And ‘Kodachrome,’ for sure. That’s what I want playing at my funeral.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Paul Simon. He’s kind of awesome. My grandfather got me into it. I’ll burn it for you.”
“If we ever get out of here,” Devon said.
Hutch leaned over her, blocking out her view of the stucco ceiling.
“I’ve never told anyone that. Only you and my grandfather know I’m a secret Paul Simon fan. Can you handle that kind of secret?”
“I don’t know. Sounds like a lot of pressure.” Devon said back with a smirk.
Hutch reached out and stroked the side of her cheek. “As far as I can tell, you handle pressure well.”
Present Day, September 16
DEVON’S EYES SNAPPED OPEN. The sunlight pierced the curtains. She found herself blinking at, Kaylyn’s carved words in the bookshelf: We’re half-awake in a fake empire. She rolled to her side and curled into a ball. Her clock blinked 9:30 A.M. Thirty minutes until she had to be there. Forty minutes until reality would invade. She closed her eyes again, hoping for another glimpse of Hutch. You handle pressure well. His words clanged around in her head. Kodachrome. She still hadn’t heard the song that Hutch wanted played at his funeral. Should she have told someone that it’s what Hutch would have wanted? Was it too late? Would anyone have believed her anyway?
Devon forced herself out of bed.
She ripped the tags off her black Banana Republic dress. So ironic! It was perfectly plain and boring, but her mom insisted she have a formal interview outfit on hand for her college trips this fall break. College trips that Hutch would never take. Her fingers paused on the buttons over her stomach. There were lots of things Hutch would never do again. Make pancakes. Surf. Graduate from Keaton. Kiss a girl.
She left her dress hanging open and snapped her laptop open, searching Paul Simon. There among a list of his songs was ‘Kodachrome.’ Devon pressed play and sat back on her bed. It sounded old, a relic, but the upbeat guitar made her smile. Only Hutch would want a happy cheerful song at his funeral; this was no Sarah McLachlan anthem.
The first lyrics came out, “When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all.” Devon laughed out loud. This was exactly Hutch’s sense of humor. “Kodachrome, it give us the nice bright colors, it give us the greens of summers, makes you think all the world’s a sunny day.…” Her cheeks were wet. She was smiling, but couldn’t stop crying at the same time. It was so simple. It was Instagram, but real. A song about old camera film that made everything look better; that’s just what Hutch did. He could make everything brighter, memories better, jokes funnier. Or maybe that was just her experience of him.
Tap, tap, tap!
Someone was knocking on her glass door. Devon wiped her cheeks and quickly finished buttoning her dress. She pulled the curtain aside, and there was Matt. Black slacks, a white button-down with a red striped tie draped open around his neck. He held his black blazer squished in one hand while his other hand shielded his eyes as he peered through Devon’s glass door. She slid the door open.
“Matt? Are you okay?”
“Hey, I’m glad you’re here.” Matt walked right into Devon’s room. 9:45 A.M. on a Sunday morning was definitely not part of visiting hours, according to the Keaton Companion. But rules would probably be lax today.
“I need your help.” Matt said. He parked his feet in front of Devon. He stood up straight, eyes toward her ceiling, and chest puffed out. His hands tapped against his thighs. From the sweat glistening down the side of his face and his pulse throbbing along a vein in his neck, Devon figured he was on some kind of upper. More Adderall probably.
“Matt.…”
“Go ahead, I’m ready.” He said still looking up.
“Matt! What do you need help with? You need to tell me that part.”
He sighed and shook his head. The tapping stopped for a moment. “Sorry, I’m a mess. My tie. I don’t