Synopsis: Tommy Swanson died the summer before my tenth birthday. He hanged himself from the monkey bars of the playground across the street. That entire summer, I had dreams about him. Sometimes, we would go to the carnival and look at one another in the funhouse mirrors. Other times, we’d ride our bicycles up and down the street until our legs were so tired, we could barely walk.
All my life, I thought those dreams would be the best I’d ever have, but the summer of my fourteenth birthday, I had even better dreams. They’re different now. Tommy and I don’t ride bicycles anymore. Instead, we kiss. We kiss all night long, and when I wake up, I cry because Tommy Swanson is dead and he’s never coming back. Why did he do it? He must’ve had a reason. Does anybody know? Doesn’t anybody care what happened the night Tommy Swanson died?