Page 13 of Dear Mr. Brody

“You need tools to survive, weapons to protect yourself,” I said, and he nodded. “You’re not stupid, you’re learning. There’s a difference.”

“Why do you like writing so much?” he asked, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table.

“It helps me clear my head, I guess.”

“Heavy…” He gave me a small smile and sat up. “I like reading sometimes. Graphic novels and comics.”

“I used to readThe Sandmanseries when I was a kid.”

“No shit, Gaiman is legit.”

I reached into my backpack and grabbed my well-worn copy ofThe Lost Boys. “Have you ever read Pen Aster?” I held out the book and he stared at it. “It’s not a graphic novel, but if you love Gaiman, you have to read this.”

“Never heard of it.”

“This is hands down one of my favorite books of all time. It has killer LGBTQ rep, and the writer is gay too. Check it out…”

Denny hesitated, his eyes taking in the pale purple and blue cover. “It’s your favorite?”

Nodding, I set the book in front of him, hoping he’d pick it up. Trust was hard to come by with these kids, and I wanted him to know I was someone he could count on. Maybe giving him a piece of myself, something I loved, would let him know he mattered to someone.

“It’s a queer retelling ofPeter Pan.”

“No way,” he said, and I smiled when he finally opened the cover.

“The author created his own world but kept a lot of the original elements. It’s phenomenal.”

Denny turned the book over, whispering the words as he read the synopsis. “Pan falls in love with one of the lost boys?”

Biting back a smirk, I shrugged. “I know nothing.”

“Is King Juno supposed to be Captain Hook?”

“Yeah, and Wendy is a villain.”

“Fuck... this sounds awesome.”

The excitement in his voice was palpable.

“It’s yours.”

Denny’s smile fell as he set the book on the table. “Nah… it’s your favorite. I ain’t gonna do that.”

“I can buy another one.” Which was true, it wasn’t like the book was out of print. I’d had this copy since I was seventeen. And sure, it was sentimental. It was the first book I’d read that had characters I could relate to as a gay teen. But if it gave him the same peace it had given me, I wanted him to have it. “Take it… seriously. I want you to have it.”

He swallowed as he picked at the corner of his essay, tearing off a small piece. “What do you want in return?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s always something, man.” He could barely look me in the eyes, and it broke my fucking heart.

Thinking about some of the shit this kid must have gone through, the way people had hurt him, manipulated him while he was most vulnerable, made me want to punch something.

“Denny… I don’t expect anything from you. Not one damn thing. This book is yours, okay?”

“Yeah, alright…” His fingers trembled as he picked up the book. “Thanks… I mean, yeah… that’s cool. I’ll read it.”

“Cool.”

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