“Life isn’t as perfect as I’d like to think it could be.” I begin to write on the first crisp, clean page of my new diary, “Lately life has been throwing painful obstacles at me.” I write these words thinking of my brother, Nick, who joined the army as soon as he turned 18.  The thought of him not coming back haunts me every night. He has always been the closest family member I have and not just because he’s my brother, but because I always know I can count on him to keep my secrets. He never judges me for my mistakes.  I continue to write, “If anything happened to him, I would be heartbroken.”

I keep writing, pouring my pain into the bound pages of paper, but sadly no amount of words could ever comprehend how I feel. As I put my pencil down and start to sob into my pillow, my older sister, Britney, walks in, sits down next to me on my bed and hugs me in comfort. She speaks softly, her words sweet with security. “Listen, Juliette, I heard about Nick. It’ll be okay,” she says, stroking my long, wavy brown hair that covers my face. She wipes the tears from my pale, rosy cheeks as more tears roll down from my glazed emerald eyes. “He’s strong, he’ll be okay,” she says calmly.

               I know she means well, but I hate it when everyone acts so unconcerned and completely fine with the fact that my brother is out on a battlefield with bullets being shot at him. It pains me to know that I might never see him again, but it hurts so much more knowing he is doing it for me. He says, “Life is more meaningful when you use it to help others.” But how is it more meaningful when you no longer have a life to spend with your family and beloved sister? He says he doesn’t want me to grow up in a place where people fight on the streets. He wants me to grow up in a place where I can live a happy life.

It’s been two months since my brother left for the army and I’m desperately clinging to every ounce of hope in my body, praying that he will come back to me safely and never leave me again. We’ve been exchanging letters since he arrived at the army, which was the only thing keeping me from marching right onto the battle field myself and pulling Nick out by the ear. Even after all the worrying and procrastinating I could find relief in knowing that we sleep under the same stars.

Beep… Beep… Beep… My alarm clock roars across my bedroom, but I let it ring, feeling paralyzed and empty. I dig a box out from under my bed where I keep all my letters from Nick. I read them and start to cry because no matter what words were on those letters, I know they can’t reassure me to keep holding on. It’s been two months and six days since the last letter arrived. I feel heavy and cold as the truth sinks into the hole in my heart that was once reserved for my brother. No matter how many times they say, “It’s okay Juliette,” no matter how much they comfort me, I know the cruel reality. My brother isn’t coming home.

***

NICK.    Gunmen fire recklessly at retreating soldiers.  I run across a field filled with wounded bodies.  I never look back. Everyone is dead or dying. Above the sounds of the shots fired, I hear my little sister Juliette’s voice saying “goodbye.” It’s like a song playing on loop, over and over. In this moment, I realize fighting for her doesn’t have to mean the sacrifice of my own life but being in hers. I begin to run faster. Faster than I’ve ever run before. I’m running to her.

***

I’ve been avoiding school ever since the letters stopped coming, but I finally had enough strength to get back to my life. I’m not giving up on Nick because deep down I have faith that he is searching for a way back to me, for a way back home.

I step off the bus and venture down the street towards my house. As I walk through the front door, I notice my mother staring solemnly at an envelope. She doesn’t say anything as I walked toward her, her hands slightly shaking. I gently take the envelope out of her hands and look up at her. I can detect the panic in her eyes as she tries hard to hide her fear. I glance down at the crisp white envelope with the official government return address. Knowing my mother couldn’t bear to do it herself, I slowly unfold the letter and cautiously begin to read it out loud, “We regret to inform you Nicholas Hartmen has been reported missing.” 

***

NICK.    As I walk down a street that is all too familiar to me, I see a little girl no older than five and an older male figure that appears to be her brother. He is helping her get onto a small pink bike and showing her how to move the petals with her feet. It reminds me of when I taught Juliette to ride her bike on the same exact street. She was so unsure of herself and waited for weeks to get on for the first time. I offered to help her, holding the back of the seat as her little body rocked side to side trying to balance. We practiced for hours that day. When I released the seat and watched her fly down the street on her own, she looked back and flashed her goofy smile. It was such a great day.

But the happy childhood memory was soon replaced with another flashback, to the night we were stuck in a tornado together. I had held Juliette so close to me as she cried on my shoulders. Our parents were stuck at work and couldn’t get to us because the roads were closed. We were all alone, huddled in the farthest corner of our basement, but somehow, we knew we would be all right because we had each other, and that was enough.

I’ve been trying not to think about the moment I hugged Juliette goodbye at the airport- the day I left her and everything I knew for the army. It’s a moment I would always regret. But instead of trying to forget I will use it as a reminder, to never again leave the best part of my life- my sweet, silly, full of life little sister, Juliette.

***

Beep… Beep... Beep… My alarm clock screeches again. I run over to it, slam the snooze button and run back over to my bed. I pull the box containing my brothers letters out again and open it. If nobody else was looking for Nick I would do it myself. I scroll through the letters looking at the most recent, trying to find some sort of clue to where he might be. After an hour of looking through the letters I give up. I will have to find another way to get the information I need. One thing is for sure though- I am determined to find my brother. Nothing is going to get in the way of me and my brother being together again.

My thoughts are interrupted as my mom hollers from downstairs, “Get down here! You’re going to miss the bus!”

I spring from one side of the room to the other, gathering my school supplies, rushing downstairs and out to the bus. The drive to school seems endless. All the crazy conspiracy theories on where Nick is and how he got there run through my mind. At last our bus approaches the school building, which is the last place I want to be at a time like this. I resolve to myself that I will not give up on school because Nick would be so disappointed in me, but that I will spend every moment afterwards searching for him, uncovering every lead.

I walk into my English class and take my seat, but it’s impossible to pay attention to anything going on around me. There are too many things on my mind. “Class doesn’t wait for your focus, Juliette,” I think to myself. “Time to buckle down.” I watch the clock and listen to the hypnotizing tick, tick, tick sound as time drags by. Everything is so blurred it’s as if I were in a trance. Tick, tick, tick. “Juliette, pay attention” the teacher scowls. My cheeks turned red as everyone pauses from their writing assignments to stare back at me. “I’m sorry” I sulk, fighting back the tears welling up in my eyes. 

After three more periods of torture I’m finally at the last class of the day. It’s by far my least favorite- algebra. I’ve been dreading the test we are having all day. I studied so hard this past week, but it’s hard to focus for long without my thoughts floating back to Nick. I have the nervous jitters. Tests always give me so much anxiety. As the teacher is handing out the papers, I glance out into the hallway and could swear I see my brothers face. My hope quickly extinguished as I realize it’s Sam, one of the seniors, just roaming the halls.

Am I becoming paranoid now? This just makes me more determined to find him. I tap my pencil on the desk in frustration. I studied for hours and I can’t remember anything. As the test drags on, I look around the room in a daze. I glance at the clock on the wall and notice a group of students leaving the room, but the teacher didn’t say anything. “That’s odd,” I think to myself, ignoring the curiosity that was burning inside of me. I turn my attention back to the test. I’d already answered the easiest problems, so now I’m just left with the hard ones and I’m stumped. Once again, a group of students quietly get up and leave the classroom and once again the teacher says nothing. Does she know where they are going? Does she not notice that there are only a few of us still in her classroom?

Curiosity overwhelms me and I raise my hand to ask why everyone is leaving. Trying to hold back her crooked little grin, like there was some big secret only she is privy to, she responds with three simple words.  “Go find out.” That probably should have concerned me, but if nothing else, at least this was distracting me from wallowing in my thoughts and sadness. My inner detective ignites, and I walk out of the classroom, searching the hallways for the missing students.

I hear whispering coming from the pitch-black cafeteria. I feel around for the light switch and as they flash on, I see the missing students in the center of the room surrounding someone. I rub my eyes. Nick?! Am I hallucinating again?! Missing for months, could this really be the brother I had shed so many tears for, wishing he was by my side? The bravest, strongest man I’d ever known is just a few feet away from me. He runs up to me, grabs me into the biggest bear hug I’d ever felt and says, “You’re my everything Juliette and I should never have left you” and I knew this time it was real. Breathless, in shock and in awe I start to cry as I wrap my arms around him and tell him, “I should have never let you leave, and I won’t ever let you do it again.”