The Elements Series Complete Box Set

by Brittainy Cherry

  Did I tell you Muffins passed away? I told Daddy to tell Mrs. Boone I was sorry for her loss. Her reply? “That damn thing lived a million years. Now I don’t have to waste money on cat food.”

  What she really meant was she missed her more than words.

  I miss her, too.

  Always,

  -Maggie

  P.S. The Crooks’ new album is number one again this week—I’m not surprised. I’ve been listening to it on repeat for the past five weeks. You’re my favorite kind of sound.

  A note to the girl who rereads books for fun

  By: Brooks Tyler Griffin

  January 5th, 2020

  Magnet,

  The band is in Tokyo this week, and Rudolph accidently ate fried pig ears, thinking they were organic fried pickles. It was probably the best moment I’ve ever witnessed. There’s this nasty cold going around, and I have fallen as the next victim to the plague. The amount of cold medicine I’ve been doped up on is worrisome, but still, the show must go on tonight. I’m hoping to pass the cold on to Calvin soon, just for laughs.

  The book: The Passage by Justin Cronin.

  The number of Post-its: one hundred and two.

  I heard Cheryl got into Boston State University and is taking up a journalism degree with a minor in women’s studies. Next time you Skype with her, let her know how proud I am of her.

  -Brooks

  A note to a boy who can go to hell

  By: Maggie May Riley

  June 14th, 2021

  Brooks Tyler,

  Seriously? The Fault in Our Stars?

  I just cried into a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Surprisingly, the salty tears added to the flavor. With that, I take your John Green novel and raise you A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. Cheryl had me read it, and I haven’t been the same since.

  Godspeed.

  -Maggie

  A note to the girl I hate

  By: Brooks Tyler Griffin

  August 12th, 2021

  M,

  Fuck you, Maggie May Riley.

  Fuck you very much.

  I loved crying over a book in front of a sausage fest of grown men.

  It really upped my cool points.

  -B

  P.S, You’re taking online classes to become a librarian? Amazing. In your last note you wrote, “Hopefully someday I’ll leave home to become a librarian.”

  There’s no hope needed.

  There are only facts.

  You’ll be the best librarian in the history of librarians, and I’d visit your library to read every single book.

  A note to a boy with a Grammy

  By: Maggie May Riley

  February 28th, 2024

  Brooks,

  I’m so proud of you.

  I’m so amazed by your talents.

  I hope your world tour is beyond amazing.

  The book: Oh The Places You’ll Go by Dr. Seuss.

  The Post-its: Eighteen.

  -Maggie

  A note to the girl I respect

  By: Brooks Tyler Griffin

  July 18th, 2025

  Magnet,

  Sorry I haven’t sent anything in a while. Things have been crazy with rehearsals, meetings, and interviews. I’m tired. I’m always tired lately. I still love it all, but some days, I wish I could slow down.

  I feel like I should tell you something, but I’m not sure how, so here it goes.

  I met someone.

  Her name is Sasha.

  She’s a model, and she’s sweet. She’s really, really sweet. She’s an awful singer and a worse dancer, but she laughs, which is more than I can say for most people I’ve met along this journey.

  I don’t know why I felt the need to tell you, but I thought you should hear it from me first, instead of the tabloids.

  -Brooks.

  P.S. I reread The Kite Runner. It was the first book you ever gave me, remember? I don’t remember crying the first time I read it, but maybe time changes the way we view stories. Maybe as we grow, life experiences shift the meanings of the books. Maybe I’m not the same person I was those years ago when I read it.

  Or maybe I’m just homesick.

  Part III

  23

  Maggie

  April 8th, 2026

  Twenty-Eight Years Old

  Each night, Mama, Daddy, and I ate dinner together at the dining room table. Mama and Daddy hardly ever looked at each other. They walked past one another like strangers.

  Daddy hardly made any jokes anymore, and when he did come to my bedroom he complained more about Mama’s drinking.

  It was hard to believe they had ever been in love. It was hard to imagine how they used to dance.

  Still, we ate dinner together each night, even if it was always uncomfortable for everyone. Fridays were my favorite nights, though, because after dinner, Cheryl always called me for a Skype date.

  I’d clear my plate and hurry up to my room, eagerly opening my computer. Ever since Cheryl had graduated college, she’d been on a quest to discover the world. She had started backpacking around Europe and Asia, and hadn’t stopped moving since. She’d visited all kinds of places, discovered all kinds of cultures, and witnessed more struggle than she could’ve ever imagined in remote parts of the world that went mostly unnoticed.

  She was in Bangkok, Thailand, when she Skyped me that night.

  “Hey, sister!” she said, her service not as clear as it had been a week before, but seeing her face at all still made me happy. “You’re looking good.”

  I smiled and typed back to her. Ditto.

  “So, today I went to see Phra Phuttha Maha Suwana Patimakon. I bet I pronounced that wrong, because when I said it earlier my tour guide told me I totally butchered the pronunciation, but oh well. It’s that big Golden Buddha, ya know? It was amazing, too. Oh!” She shifted around her small hostel room and pulled out a book. “And I got you your first book from Thailand! I don’t know what it says per se, but I think it’s a solid one if you know how to read Thai.”

  I smiled at my dorky sister. I missed her so much.

  Cheryl arched an eyebrow. “So since I’ve been gone have you started talking and cursing like your sailor-mouthed sister?”

  I shook my head.

  “One day I want you to spread your arms out and shout the loudest fuck that could ever be shouted. It will be refreshing, I think.”

  I don’t think so.

  She frowned. “It would be better if you were a bit more messed up. Less perfect, you know? I mean, I know you’ve got that mute thing, and the can’t-leave-home issue, but those seem small compared to my being a single female and running around the dangerous world alone. You really make it hard to be your sibling.”

  I smirked. Sorry.

  She snickered. “No you’re not. Anyway, how are classes going?”

  I’d been taking online classes at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, where I’d received an undergraduate degree in English. After that, I applied to many different schools that held online Master degrees, yet I wasn’t accepted to any. My rocking résumé probably wasn’t the best, seeing how I hadn’t done much of anything with my life.

  It was a year ago when I was ready to give up, but Daddy convinced me to apply at UW-Milwaukee for their Master of Library & Information Science. When I was accepted to their online program, I cried.

  Mama said it was a waste of time and money. Daddy said it was a step closer to my happy ending.

  School is going well. The semester is almost over, which is good.

  “Do you like, flirt with any of your classmates on the discussion boards?” Cheryl asked, her voice heightened.

  I rolled my eyes, even though she was quite serious. Cheryl once tried to convince me to fall in love online. She even signed me up on a few dating sites.

  “I’m just saying, Maggie. You’re educated. You’re beautiful. And—”

  And I live with my parents.

  “Yeah, but not in the basement.
You live upstairs. That’s different.”

  There’s also the issue with me being mute and never leaving home.

  “Are you kidding me? Men adore it when women shut up. Plus, if you never leave home, it means you’re a super cheap date. Men love not spending money! You should add those things under your strong characteristics on a dating site.” She winked.

  I smirked, and she kept pushing the subject until I asked if she’d spoken to Calvin.

  “I Skyped with him earlier, and he was telling me how he stumbled across a band on YouTube called Romeo’s Quest. Total indie underground brilliant vibe. He sent me a link to their music, and I literally fell backward, so I’m passing it on now because I know it was made for you. I’ll link it below. And get this: all their songs are based on Shakespeare plays!”

  You don’t know anything about Shakespeare.

  “I know, Maggie, but that’s not the point! The point is that it’s different and raw and…” She paused. “To be or not to be, that is the question! See! I know some Shakespeare! I’m a college graduate, missy.”

  What play is that from?

  “Ohmygosh, what is this? Twenty questions? Get off my invisible dick, sister! Anyway, after our call listen to their music. I think Calvin is trying to set something up for the band—some kind of pay-it-forward deal, seeing how they were discovered online.”

  Very cool.

  “I spoke to Brooks, too,” Cheryl said, making me tilt my head. I tried to ignore the flipping in my stomach.

  Is he well?

  “Yeah. He looks really good. Happy, ya know? Just tired. He has this crazy facial hair thing going on, as if he hasn’t shaved in years, or something. It turns out it’s only been a few months, but it looks good on him. He looks grown up.”

  And happy?

  She nodded. “And happy.”

  Good. Good. I wanted him to be happy. He deserved to be happy.

  After I’d found out he was with Sasha, I couldn’t keep writing him. It hurt too much to know that when he received my books, she could’ve been sitting right beside him. And that wouldn’t have been fair to her, either.

  I closed my eyes, trying to envision his new look. The last time I’d seen him was when I watched the Grammys and the band won the Album of the Year award. He looked happy there, too, almost as if his dreams were fully unlocked and achieved.

  “Are you happy, Maggie?” my sister asked.

  I smiled and nodded, yet she didn’t notice me knock once on my leg beneath the table.

  Happiness was hard to find alone in my bedroom, especially when the one you loved was out loving someone else.

  As Cheryl and I spoke, Mama started shouting. “I didn’t break it, Eric! I was trying to fix it. You said you would weeks ago and never got around to it.”

  “I told you not to mess with it. Now you screwed it up more,” Daddy barked back.

  Cheryl frowned. “What is it they are fighting about this time?”

  The dishwasher.

  She didn’t ask any more questions. Mama and Daddy only had two versions of their relationship: the silent version, and the angered version.

  If they weren’t mute, they were screaming.

  If they weren’t screaming, they passed one another like ghosts.

  Cheryl and I spoke for a bit more before she started yawning and headed to bed.

  After we ended the call, I started playing Romeo’s Quest’s videos on YouTube. I tapped my fingers against my stomach, listening to the instrumentals wash over me. Cheryl understood my head and my soul, and when the lead singer started singing, I felt it—an arrow to my heart.

  I listened to every video they had online, over and over again. My favorite song was “Broken Nightmares” because it was sad, but somehow hopeful.

  Find me in the dark because that’s where I live

  Open up your heart and let the shadows in

  I blinked my eyes a few times, trying to envision what the band had been feeling when they wrote those lyrics, those words. Music was one of the best reminders that I was never alone in this world. It was that powerful moment when I heard the sounds and the lyrics. It seemed as if the artist crawled into my lonely head and created the song solely for me, reminding me that somewhere out there, there was someone feeling exactly as I was feeling.

  I was sure Brooks would’ve loved them.

  24

  Brooks

  “Birmingham, you have been amazing tonight! We are The Crooks, and we thank you for allowing us to steal your hearts tonight,” Calvin shouted into the microphone at our second sold-out show in Birmingham, England—over sixteen thousand tickets sold, over sixteen thousand fans screaming our names and singing our lyrics.

  I was sure it would never get old, standing in front of people who allowed you to live your dream out loud.

  The four of us had been living our dreams for the past ten years, starting as an opening act for our favorite band, and now as the main event. Our lives were far from normal.

  “Also, shooting a happy birthday to my partner in crime who turned twenty-eight today. Happy birthday, Calvin! The world’s a bit drunker because your voice exists.” The crowd cheered, screaming for an encore, which we weren’t allowed to do because time was money, and money was something management hated to waste.

  We all rushed offstage and I crashed into my dressing room, just to have Michelle, my personal assistant, immediately coming at me with a list of radio and television appearances scheduled for the upcoming week.

  “Great show tonight, Brooks,” she said, smiling and juggling her iPad, iPhone, and a pack of Skittles in her hands. “So tonight, there’s an after party at Urban.”

  “The same Urban from last year where somehow Rudolph ended up in a fist-fight over tuna being made with dolphin meat?” I questioned, walking over to my sink and grabbing a wet cloth to wash my face.

  “That’s the one. They’re throwing Calvin’s birthday party tonight.”

  I sighed. I hated clubs, but I loved my best friend. “Therefore I have to be there.”

  “You have to be there, at least for photos, then you can dip out whenever. In the morning, you gotta be at KISS 94.3 by five for the radio interview. After that we shuffle over to The Morning Blend at seven, at nine we will go to The Mix 102.3 for a live stream radio shoot, and then by twelve we are meeting at Craig Simon’s talk show. Back to the arena at three for sound check, meet and greet four-thirty to six, then dinner with the opening act where there will be a photoshoot with a few reporters before the show at eight. Any questions?”

  “Um, yeah, when do I get to sleep?”

  She snickered and began typing on her phone. “You know my motto, Brooks—”

  “We can sleep when we’re six feet under,” I replied, echoing her words. I sat down in my chair and lifted up the package I had put together that afternoon before the show. “Can you find a post office to mail this off tomorrow?”

  Michelle scowled. “When am I supposed to find time to do that?”

  I smirked. “You know my motto: why not find a reason to visit a post office each day?”

  “That’s not your motto, but I’ll do it.” She snatched the book from my hand, and narrowed her eyes at me. “Does it bother you?”

  “Does what bother me?”

  “That she never sends books back anymore?”

  Maggie hadn’t sent me a book since the year before when I told her I was seeing Sasha. Did it bother me? Every single day. Did I miss the pink Post-its? Every single day. Would I ever let on that it hurt? Never. “Nah. I’m not really expecting any kind of reply anymore.”

  “You must’ve done something awful to make her stop.”

  “What makes you think it was my fault?”

  She smiled. “The penis in your pants.” She started walking off toward the door to leave. “I really hope whoever this book girl is has a huge Beauty and The Beast-style library, because she’ll need it with all the books you’ve sent her way lately. You’ve got twenty minutes to sh
ower and wash up before we head over to Urban.” With that, she was gone.

  I sat in front of my mirror and breathed in all my changes. I had bags under my eyes at the age of twenty-eight, not small bags, very noticeable bags that our makeup artist was so good at hiding. My arms were inked up from my younger days of drunken tattoos while doing concerts around the U.S., and my constantly growing beard was longer than it should’ve been, but my manager, Dave, told me beards were in and he therefore refused to let me shave.

  I wondered what Maggie would’ve thought of my hairy face.

  I wondered what Maggie would’ve thought about me.

  I wondered if I ever crossed her mind the way she always seemed to cross mine.

  “Hey, hairy monster,” a voice said, breaking me from my thoughts. The moment I swung around in my chair to see Sasha, I felt guilt. I hated when my mind wandered to Maggie May when Sasha was around. It didn’t seem fair to anyone.

  Sasha walked over to me and sat in my lap. “Tonight was amazing. You’re amazing,” she whispered, kissing my nose. The guilt was fast to fade whenever Sasha came near me. She was beautiful, not only in her looks, but in her kindness. You didn’t find many people as gentle as her in the realm of fame.

  “Thanks,” I replied, kissing her chin. “We have to make an appearance at Urban tonight.”

  She groaned, hating clubs as much as I did. “Seriously? I was hoping we could go back to the hotel, turn on the whirlpool, and order room service.”