Trevor isn’t the most interesting person on the block, but he’s the only one with the latest gaming console. He used to have a twin, Nicky, that me and Ray used to visit and play 4-person games with, but after the accident Ray’s mom doesn’t let him over much.

I can’t blame her. Nicky had just gotten his license and was showing off, and though he was the only one who died the rest of us didn’t exactly escape unscathed. I’ve probably had it easiest considering I didn’t get too physically harmed.

We’ve all been dealing with some psychological scars, of course. Part of being a teenager includes not worrying about death too often. When it pops up seemingly out of nowhere, you have to grow up faster.

I try to keep the conversation light. Trevor always has a new toy, it seems, with his parents trying to make up for the absence of his twin. It keeps us all busy at least, which helps with the grieving process. Any distraction at all is nice.

Sleeping over is the best part, though. When I’m at my own house I relive the accident in my dreams. The revving of the engine. The flash of lights passing by. The sudden screeching of tires before crunching metal wraps us around a telephone pole.

When I’m at Trevor’s, we talk at night. About what we want to do with our lives. Thinking about the future feels better than dwelling on the past. And whispering in the dark is just loud enough to cover the twitching limbs, the cracking bones, and the soft final exhale.

His head swivels back into place as Nicky takes control. I grin with anticipation of hearing what new ghostly details he’s uncovered about the afterlife. The longer I listen the less time I spend in my nightmares. I’ll eventually wake up the next morning, hardly remembering my dreams at all.

And while Trevor may not be terribly interesting, my best friend sure is.