GOOD ADVICE

I know Leo’s not real and all that, but I’ll tell you what else. Some of the best conversations I’ve had in my life have been with him.

The sad part of that story is that the real Leo is my brother who died a long time ago. But I always kept him around anyway, at least inside my head. Mom says Leo’s my muse now, which means he’s good for ideas. Mostly, I’ve been putting him into my Loozer comics, but it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since we talked. He’s always right there when I need him.

“Okay, so am I totally messing up?” I asked Leo. “Or is this a good thing?”

It didn’t even take a second for him to answer. He always just knows stuff.

“It’s a good thing,” Leo said. “Miller’s going to leave you alone now. That’s huge.”

“What about the football?”

“What about it?”

“I’m not sure I want to keep doing it, but Miller would kill me if I quit. And what if I can’t do it?” I said. “What’s the plan then?”

“You want to know the plan?” Leo said.

“I just asked you for it.”

“Okay, here it is. It’s called ‘don’t do anything.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re not getting into trouble. You’re not breaking any rules—”

“For once,” I said.

“—or even trying to break the rules. You’re just playing football, drawing your comics, hanging out, and going to school. That’s called normal, dude. Try to relax.”

Usually, Leo’s all about one kind of scheme or another. He always has an idea about how I can make things more interesting. Now he was telling me to do nothing? It was weirder than weird.

But that’s not the same thing as bad. Sometimes weird is good. And sometimes it’s really good.

This is why talking to Leo is better for me than just about anything. I know it’s all inside my head, but somehow, when I think about it that way—like it’s me and Leo together, not just me on my own—it helps.

And I mean always.