I Heart You, You Haunt Me (10 page)

Matchmaker

I brush my teeth,

brush my hair,

brush a little blush on my cheeks,

and call it good.

It doesn’t really matter.

I know that.

But it gives me the confidence

to do

what I realize

I have to do.

I go back down

and he has the remote in his hand,

flipping through

the channels.

I sit down.

He turns it off.

I smile.

He smiles.

“I’m guessing, by the look on your face,

you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

This is one

insightful

dude.

“Lyric, you are such a great guy.

And you know, you and Cali would make a fantastic couple.

She loves tacos and dogs and football, just like you.

I want you to call her. Get to know her.”

“But—,” he starts.

“No.

Please.

Don’t.

“My heart has lots of stuff it has to work through.

Throwing you into the mix, it just wouldn’t be fair.

For me or for you.”

He reaches over

and hugs me.

“Still friends, right?” I ask.

He smiles. “Yeah. Still friends.”

I walk him outside,

and as he gets in his jeep,

I don’t tell him

good-bye.

I yell out,

“Call Cali!”

I’m Definitely a Dog Person

Guilt reminds me

of a stray

cat.

You chase it away

and yet,

it comes back

when you least

expect it.

If you let yourself

feel pity for it and

feed the thing,

it parks its ugly,

puny,

lonely-for-attention

butt

on your doormat

and

won’t

go

away.

Mom and Dad

watch me

write notes

to myself

and stick them

around the house.

Joy, Not Sorrow

Laughter, Not Tears

Life, Not Death

They smile at me.

They got the letter.

They understand.

Scat,

kitty cat,

scat.

I don’t need you

sitting around here

like that.

The Perfect Gift

On my birthday,

my girlfriends

take me out

to a Mexican restaurant,

where we sip on virgin margaritas

while the waiters put a sombrero

on my head

and sing to me.

It’s definitely

a
sweet
birthday

and I’m so blown away

by my friends

being there

and loving me

through everything.

Maybe Mom did ask them

to check in on me.

But maybe they would have anyway.

Maybe they weren’t sure

what to say to me

or how to help me.

They tried,

and I love them

for that.

As I look at my gifts,

the bracelet Cali made for me,

the new books Zoe bought for me,

the framed drawing Jessa made for me,

I feel thankful

for the best gift of all.

It’s the one wrapped around my heart

with a big, pink bow—

the never-ending gift

of friendship.

Another Good Friend

I return,

accompanied only by

my new driver’s license,

for a visit

before summer

takes its final bow

and autumn

hits the stage.

The water glistens

as the rays

of the late afternoon sun

shine down

upon it.

It’s more inviting

than a down comforter bed

on a cold, winter night.

I’ve stayed away

from my old friend

far too long.

I didn’t visit at Zoe’s party.

I didn’t visit at the beach.

I didn’t visit the last time I was here.

I’ve missed you, friend.

I don’t blame you.

I never did.

May be I was scared.

May be it needed to mean something.

May be it just didn’t feel right.

I tear off my tank top and shorts,

but before I jump in,

I look up.

I swear he is there,

his arms outstretched,

the waterfall beneath him,

cascading into the

cool

blue

water

below.

Go on, Ava. It’s going to be great!

It’s not a dare.

Not this time.

But it’s almost like I’m on that high dive again,

scared of what comes next,

yet knowing at the same time

it will all be

okay.

The water’s cold,

but I can feel

Jackson’s smile

shining down on me,

as bright and warm

as the summer sunshine,

when he sees me wearing

the black-and-pink

bikini.

Ava

“Tell me about yourself,” Dr. Andrews asked me,

during our first session.

I thought Dr. Andrews

would be a lady

with ugly glasses

and hair in a bun

and a clipboard

where she scribbled things

like

LUNATIC

CRAZY GIRL

GUILTY AS HELL.

Instead

she is pretty,

with curly red hair,

and there isn’t any

clipboard.

When I visit her,

I sit in a comfy brown chair

and we talk.

I’ve realized therapy

is incredibly

therapeutic.

When she asked me

to talk about myself,

I wasn’t sure what to say.

“You mean things I like?”

“I’d love to know what’s special about Ava.”

I thought,

I could tell her how I’ve always loved to swim,

how I love music, movies, and shopping,

how I loved having a boyfriend

who clicked with me

from the very first second,

and how my friends

mean everything to me.

Then I thought,

too bad I’m not as much fun as Cali

or as determined as Zoe

or as brave and confident as Jessa.

They’re each
so
special.

“I don’t know,” I told her.

“There’s nothing special, really.”

“Was it special being Jackson’s girlfriend?” she asked.

“Very.”

She leaned forward in her chair,

like a flower in a vase,

reaching for a glimpse

of the sun.

“There are other things special about Ava Bender.

You just need to discover those things again.

Will you make a list?

And then you can share them with me when you’re ready.”

Now, as I drive along

the curvy roads

heading home from

Jackson’s Hideaway,

I remember the list

I have so far.

I am warm-hearted.

I am affectionate.

I am reliable.

I am generous.

I am smart.

I am strong.

Today,

I add another one.

I am hopeful.

And don’t miss the companion novel to
I Heart You, You Haunt Me
:
Chasing Brooklyn

Mon., Jan. 2nd—Brooklyn

Gabe was one of those guys

who was full of life.

Always talking.

Always laughing.

Always wanting to be the center of attention.

Big guy

with a bigger smile

and the biggest heart.

After Lucca died,

it changed Gabe.

Of course it would.

He went from front and center

to just fading into the background.

We hung out for a while

after it happened.

Didn’t talk much.

Mostly we sat in his room,

me writing letters,

him strumming on his guitar.

Still, we promised

we’d help each other through it.

But then, something changed.

I don’t know what.

Was it him? Was it me?

He joined a different band.

Stopped coming around.

I just lost track.

We lost track.

I try to remember

the last time I saw Gabe

and I can’t.

He didn’t just fade

into the background.

He pretty much

disappeared.

#278

Dear Lucca,

Can you believe this? I can’t.

I can’t believe he’s gone.

Remember that one time the three of us went to see Kings

of Leon? Gabe sang every song. He knew every single song.

I seriously feel sick Gonna go lie down.

Love always,

Brooklyn

Mon., Jan. 2nd—Nico

Gabe and my brother

had been friends

since fourth grade.

They’d grown apart in high school

when Gabe chose music

and Lucca chose art.

Still, they had that connection,

the kind that stays strong

despite the differences.

No matter how long it’d been

since they’d seen each other,

they’d pick up right where they left off.

Gabe made Lucca laugh like no other.

Gabe with his wild hair that stuck every which way,

his pierced lip

and the black leather jacket

he wore everywhere.

He was a character.

A character who should still be here.

Damn it all to hell.

He should still be here.

Tues., Jan. 10th—Brooklyn

I fall asleep hoping to dream

of Lucca.

Instead I’m standing in the hallway at school.

In the dark,

Alone.

I turn around

and around,

wondering where everyone is.

I want to turn on the lights,

but where do you find the lights

for a school hallway?

There’s the faint sound of footsteps.

Someone is far away.

But coming closer.

I listen.

They get louder.

I open my mouth.

I try to speak.

Nothing comes out.

I walk forward,

my arms in front of me,

trying to see my way.

There’s a faint light ahead.

I think it’s the light to the office.

If! can just make it there,

it’ll be okay.

The steps are coming faster.

My pace increases.

Just get to the office.

Nothing can hurt you there.

They’ll help you.

The light gets brighter.

I start to run.

Faster and faster

I run,

the beating of my heart

almost as loud

as the pounding of my steps.

I reach the door and look behind me,

I see someone.

Someone’s coming.

Right behind me.

I turn the doorknob.

Locked tight.

My fist pounds on the window.

I pound and pound

and open my mouth to scream.

Then, he’s there.

In front of me.

Gray skin with eyes

black as the darkest night,

and lips blood red.

He lunges for me

and I scream his name.

“Gabe!”

When I wake up

with my sheets soaked

and sticking to me like bandages,

I can’t stop shaking.

Even though I know it was a dream,

something about it

was so much more

than a dream.

A lot more.

Wed., Jan. 11th—Nico

Something happened last night

and I am freaking out.

It was almost morning. I was asleep.

I heard a noise.

A scraping noise.

I sat straight up and noticed the window was open, just slightly.

The room was freezing.

I ran to the window and closed it.

I was about to turn on the light, when I felt something.

Like someone was tight there.

I lunged for the baseball bat under my bed and started swinging.

I made my way to the light and turned it on.

No one was there.

Nothing was there.

And yet, it was like someone or something was there.

And then I heard a whisper.

Not even a whisper,

Something else.

A silent message in my brain.

Make sure Brooklyn is okay.

The curtains fluttered.

A slight shadow emerged on the wall.

And then, he was gone.

The room warmed up.

My goose bumps disappeared.

And I ran out of my room.

Here’s a peek at Lisa Schroeder’s next novel

Far from you

day four

We’re alone
with only
the cold
and dark
to keep us
company.

I know them
so well now,
they’re like
old friends.

Familiar.

Old friends
who have stayed
too long
and need to go.

I wish
the angel
would have stayed.

I For a second,
I felt warmth.
I felt safe.
I felt love
as she whispered
my name,
“Alice,”
and floated
toward me
before she
disappeared.

Was I dreaming?
Hoping?
Hallucinating?

So hungry.
So tired.

Cold.

I look out the window,
and although it’s dark,
the moon
illuminates the scene
as if a faraway
floodlight
is hung
from the sky.

So much whiteness.
Everywhere.

Come back,
angel.

Let us fly
away
from
here.

Please.
Come back.