The most noticeable feature about Jamie Heathrow was one chipped tooth he had. It was his front tooth and whenever he smiled it gave him a look like I-could-probably-beat-you-up-but-I-would-never-actually-do-that-because-I'm-really-the-kind-of-guy-who-talks-about-superheroes-with-little-kids. 

 Jamie Heathrow was nineteen years old when I met him, he was twenty-two when he died. Jamie Heathrow was my best friend Dylan Heathrow's older brother. Dylan's been my best friend for five years but the first time I saw him cry was last July, when we were twelve, and Jamie died and even if I never see him cry again I will never forget what those red rimmed eyes look like.

 Every summer for four years Jamie Heathrow would come home from college, and then he and Dylan and I would do whatever we wanted. Until that day last July...

 We went fishing, Jamie and Dylan and Dylan's dad and me. That's who always went fishing, but we all hated fishing. We'd bring board games to play on the boat. We never once caught a fish, we'd pick one up from the store on the way home.

 The heart attack wasn't sudden, I guess we all kind of expected to happen sooner or later, - later we all expected it to happen later. Jamie had a heart diease called Angina, I never could be bothered to find out the details, but I knew he'd had it since birth and Dylan and I never talked about it.

 But there were always the unavoidable moments when we were playing cops and robbers or whatever and Jamie would stop and put his hand to his heart, moments like those always scared Dylan and I so, so much. We loved Jamie.

 We weren't even with him in the hospital, we called 911 and started making our way from the boat to the shore, as fast as we could. They rushed him away from us in the ambulance, and in the hospital only Jamie's parents were allowed to see him - for his final moments. They didn't say this but we all knew they were thinking it.

 The worst moment of my life was when Dylan's mom - Anne, her name is Anne - walked into the waiting room. We didn't the words she said, all we needed were tears on her face to know Jamie was dead.

 I let myself cry there and then. But later when Dylan and I were sitting inside Jamie's closet with our backs against his mirror, Dylan cried. The tears stained his face and made it so much more real. Dylan never cried. I was the dramatic one the one who lost control at random times. Dylan was my rock. We even joked about me getting a tattoo that said Dylan Is My Rock on it. 

 When Dylan cried it made me realize there was absolutely nothing I could do. I couldn't bring Jamie back from the dead. I had to admit to myself I wasn't a superhero. I couldn't be a superhero for Dylan, but I could be a rock. So I put my arms around him and said,

 "He was mine too, he was my brother too."