The Catastrophic History of You And Me (7 page)

BOOK: The Catastrophic History of You And Me
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“Please,” I whimpered, clawing at Patrick’s T-shirt. “
Don’t
.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

Then he pushed me.

CHAPTER 11

send me an angel

“C
hedster?”

“Five more minutes. I don’t wanna get up.”

“Funny, that’s what you said five minutes ago.”

“No, but this time I mean it.”

“Nice try, Angel, but that’s not going to work.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Whatever you say, lil’ lady.”

Then a bucket of freezing cold water hit me in the face. My eyes flew open. “What the—”

“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine,” sang Patrick.

“Oh my god I will murder you!” I jumped to my feet and tried to grab him, but he was way too quick.

He
tsk
ed. “Again with all of this killing talk. So much pent-up aggression. I think maybe we need to find you a good psychologist.”

I was breathing heavily, soaking wet. I flopped back on the ground and rubbed my eyes. I shivered. Every single inch of me was covered in goose bumps.

“Here, want my jacket?” said Patrick.

“Do not even talk to me,” I said, still rubbing my eyes. “You are evil and must be destroyed.” My eyes finally came into focus and I saw that it was just past twilight. The sky was a silky shade of lavender—tinged black and blue and yellow around the edges like a faded bruise. In every direction, glowing jack-o’-lanterns grinned back at us, and flickering streetlights gave off an eerie golden haze, house after house after house.

“Trick or treat,” said Patrick. He jumped up and grabbed the big tree branch above his head. Started doing pull-ups.

“Trick,” I said, noticing a familiar porch swing right across the street. The red door. White stucco. The tree-covered driveway where I used to park my bike almost every day after school. “This is definitely a trick.”

“Wrong answer,” he grunted. “The penalty of which shall be five mini Snickers bars and three bite-sized bags of peanut M&M’S.” He let go of the branch and dropped to the ground with a thump. “Man. I am seriously out of practice.”

But I didn’t hear him. I was too busy trying not to throw up.

Jacob’s house. We were sitting across the street from JACOB’S house.

How? How is this possible?

In all of the exploring I’d done with Patrick, I’d never been able to find my way back to this spot. In my slice of heaven, there were subtle changes and shifts that made it different from my old world. Roads didn’t connect exactly like I’d remembered. Street names didn’t match up. There were holes. Pieces missing.

Important pieces.

My house wasn’t where it should have been. The high school was older, more decayed. Even Jacob’s house was missing—like someone had come through my memories and purposefully messed with everything that had meant
anything
to me when I’d been alive.

After a while, I had simply stopped trying to find them. I suppose I’d forgotten what I was looking for.

But now, zoom-two-three, here we were, back in the Real Deal Real World. My head ached like I’d just woken up from a killer concussion.

I turned to Patrick. “Where are we? What happened?”

“Oh, you mean that whole fuzzy headachy thing? It’ll go away, don’t worry.”

“Not that. I mean you and me. Here.
Now
. Explain.”

“My pleasure.” He took a small bow. “This has been your very first Fall from Grace. I hope you had a pleasant flight and will think of us for all of your future travel needs. Enjoy your stay here on earth, or wherever your final destination may be.”

“Fall from Grace?” I asked. “There’s nothing GRACEFUL about it.”

Patrick grinned. “We can’t ALL have perfect form.”

I crossed my arms. He was not getting off that easy.

“All right, all right, I apologize,” Patrick said. “It’s true that the first fall is kind of intense. But it gets easier, and at least now we can have some real fun. And besides, there are few things I enjoy more than messing with those who deserve to be messed with.”

But he didn’t mean to,
I couldn’t help thinking.
Maybe he hurt me because he was afraid I’d hurt him first.

Just then, a deep, booming bass all mixed together with laughter and shouting and the sound of a good time started up across the street. I watched as bodies moved back and forth through the dimly lit windows. Dancing.

Patrick motioned to the music. “So, wanna go to a party?”

I suddenly felt anxious. “But, I . . . but I wasn’t invited.”

“Dude.” He gave me a stern look. “We are GOING to that party. I got dressed up and everything.”

“Um. No you didn’t.”

He looked as if I’d wounded him mortally. “I spent weeks on this costume.”

“Oh yeah? So what are you supposed to be? A bad ’80s haircut?”

“I resent that.”

Right then, a few kids—
real kids
—made their way up the driveway, totally decked out in costumes. Patrick snorted at a little boy about Jack’s age who was dressed up as a lizard. “Hey, Dragonbreath,” Patrick joked. “How’s that acid reflux treating you?”

I couldn’t help myself and let out a laugh. The whole situation was just too insane to believe. Here we were, a couple of dead kids, actually about to crash my ex-boyfriend’s Halloween party. It was almost too much to take in. I kept my eyes locked on the house across the street.

I’m going to see him. I’m finally going to see him again.

“Whoa there,” said Patrick, giving me a concerned glance. “On second thought, maybe you’ve had enough fun for one night.” He got to his feet and his tone shifted. “Please tell me you haven’t forgotten why we’re here. This is revenge. Not a second chance. Okay?”

I stared at him but didn’t answer.

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me why we’re here.”

“To get back at him,” I muttered.

“I can’t hear you.”

“To get
back
at him,” I said, a little louder this time.

“I’ll take you right back to Slice—”

“TO GET BACK AT HIM!”

“Fine.” He sounded satisfied. “I accept. I will be your date. Even if your costume isn’t very original.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re lucky I’ll even be
seen
with you after you pushed me off the freaking Golden Gate Bridge.”


Pushed
is a slight exaggeration.”

I reached over to smack him, but he dodged it. Man, he was quick.

“I take it back,” he said. “I will be your
anti
-date. But that is all. So don’t get any crazy ideas.”

“Crazy ideas like what?”

“Like, don’t get jealous when all the other girls at the party try to make out with me.”

I scoffed. “Don’t hold your breath, darling.”

He paused. “Whoa. Did you just call me darling?”

“Um, flatter yourself much?”

“Oh my god.” His eyes sparkled. “You really
do
want to make out with me, don’t you?”

“What?!” I punched him in the arm as hard as I could. “Keep dreaming, Flattery O’Connor.”

Ha. Take THAT.

Patrick ignored my awesome pun and flashed his signature smile. And then I felt the ground shake lightly beneath my feet as his voice echoed through my mind, speaking to me without saying a word.

Never say never, Angel. There’s a first time for everything.

CHAPTER 12

it’s in his kiss

W
hen you like someone—like,
like
like—it’s all about the firsts. First glance. First smile. First dance.

First kiss.

My first kiss wasn’t with Jacob Fischer.

Technically, it was with Matt Thompson—a super-dorky kid I’d met at summer camp when I was twelve. Matt and I dated for approximately thirty-seven minutes, during lunch. He asked me out across the cafeteria, from, like, ten tables over. His friend Alex Grant asked his friend Charlie Frazier to ask his friend Angela Bell to ask her friend Rachel Goldman to ask
my
friend Zoe Michaelson if I liked him. I’d never even spoken to the kid, but my entire cabin went crazy, since this was clearly the most romantic thing ever to have happened to any of us, so I obviously had to say yes.

But by the time dessert rolled around, I realized I was way too young to be tied down to any one guy. So I let Matt kiss me once for like two seconds behind the Fro-Yo machine—a huge piece of cheeseburger bun stuck in his braces—and then promptly told him it was over. Not my best moment.

But don’t worry. My second kiss made up for it.

Big-time.

That
kiss belonged to Jacob. That was a kiss I could relive again and again and again and never get sick of. That’s how I spent a full three days at Slice, actually, when I first got there. Just reliving that kiss. One nice thing about heaven is that you can relive all your favorite moments and memories pretty much as many times as you want—sort of like a DVD of your whole life.
Pause
,
rewind
,
fast-forward
,
slowwww
motion
, all day, every day.

At this point, I have relived my first kiss with Jacob too many times to mention. It’s an easy memory to find because it happened on the night of my fifteenth birthday. Tenth grade. The night of the PCH Autumn Formal.

Emma, Sadie, Tess, and I were so excited because it was the first formal dance of our high school careers. Also, it was ’80s themed, which made it even better. We all went shopping after school at Luna (my favorite boutique) and bought the
prettiest
dresses. Mine was a black tube dress, a little shimmery, with gold sparkles at the bottom. Then we all got pedicures and went back to my house for my birthday dinner. Dad made my favorite, his world-famous “special spaghetti,” and after that we powered upstairs to my bedroom to get ready for the dance. It was going to be the Best Night Ever.

Mom drove us to school at eight thirty and we tore across the lawn toward the auditorium, barefoot and giggling like crazy. (The same auditorium where they had my memorial, p.s. Not, like, to put a damper on things.) We didn’t have dates, but Tess was convinced that “Prince” Eric was finally going to ask her out after years of pining for him, and Emma had schemed up a detailed plan at my house for getting the New Kid/Soccer Star, Nate Lee, to dance with her. Her plan went like this:

1) Bump into him. (Literally.)

2) Spill punch and/or chocolate (it has to be chocolate) cupcake all over his shirt.

3) Volunteer to help him “clean it up.”

4) During walk to hallway water fountain, engage in angsty, hilarious banter about why school dances are Lame with a capital
L
. (And how much of a Bummer with a capital
B
it is to be missing the Brazil vs. Spain soccer match on ESPN!)

5) Time entry back into the dance at
exact
moment when Perfect & Pre-selected romantic slow song is starting up. (Thank you, Mr. DJ.)

6) Whine loudly that all your friends have ditched you. “And during my fa-havorite
song too!” (Follow up with super-fast cleavage-squeeze, followed by small to medium eyelash bat.)

7) He asks: Wanna dance?
Um, yawn. I mean, I guess so.

8) And score. That Boy is Mine!

As for me, I was sort of hoping Ben Handleman was going to finally ask me out. He had gorgeous curly hair and, ever since he “asked to borrow my Algebra II notes,” I was pretty sure he liked me. Oh, boys think they’re so covert.

“Ben definitely L’s you,” Sadie teased me as we ran to the auditorium. “You two would be insanely cute.”

“His glasses are adorb,” Tess agreed. “I think it’s def time you got a
handle
on Handleman.” We all burst into giggles and pranced inside, totally excited for all the magical make-out sessions the night would obviously bring.

So when I saw Ben kissing Anna Clayton front and center, let’s just say I wasn’t exactly psyched. The music was blasting. Tons of kids were talking in big circles. Thousands of glowing yellow lights were strung up across the walls and ceiling. Super-high above our heads, a giant disco ball glimmered and spun—casting little diamond-shaped sparkles across our faces.

And there, right in the middle of the dance floor, Ben and Anna were apparently guest starring on
Project Tongueway
.

I was crushed.

“Ugh, he so does not deserve you,” said Sadie, pulling on her strappy black heels with one hand and leaning on Emma with the other.

“Boys are slime,” said Emma.

“And you are one million times cuter than she is, obviously,” said Tess as she grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor. “Come on!”

We all danced for the next hour, lip-synching and laughing through song after song, until a guy’s voice cut in during “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”

“Hey Brie.”

I spun around and found myself face-to-face with Jacob Fischer—a kid I’d known practically my whole life and who Sadie had been friendly with for years. But Jacob had basically said three words to me the entire time I’d known him, so the fact that he was suddenly talking to me was, well,
weird
.

“Oh, hey Jacob.” I tossed my hair.

“Ow!” Tess cried. “Thanks a lot, Brie, you just blinded me with your luscious mane.”

Was I nervous or something? Um, Brie, get it together. It’s just Jacob Fischer.

“Sorry . . .” I mumbled. “It’s this new haircut. It’s like really not doing what it’s supposed—”

“You look really pretty,” Jacob shouted over the music.

“What?” I said. “I mean, thanks! You do too.”

Oh god. Did I just call him pretty?!

He gave me a weird look. But before he had a chance to say anything, Sadie cut in.

“Jake, did you know today is Brie’s birthday? Fifteen, baby!” She grabbed my arm and twirled me around.

“All Saints’ Day,” added Emma. “’Cause Brie is
such
a saint.” The three of them burst into giggles.

“Oh, yeah?” said Jacob. “That’s awesome. Happy birthday, Brie.”

Thank god it was dark in there, because I swear at that moment I turned bright red. “Um, thanks.”

And then, because sometimes life is perfect like that, a slow song started up.

“Ohmigod, ‘It Must Have Been Love’!” Emma screamed, jumping up and down.

I watched in horror as the whole room began to pair off, and looked around for someone,
anyone
, to dance with, even though there was a boy standing right in front of me. It took me about .36 seconds to realize I had zero prospects, so I decided to get out of there as quickly as I could.

“So I guess I’m gonna go get a snack—”

“Do you want to dance?” Jacob blurted.

The four of us stared at him, wide-eyed, our mouths hanging open, totally frozen in place. I think I might’ve even drooled a tiny bit.

“Yes!” Sadie finally shrieked, shoving me into his arms. “She does! She does, she does, she does!”

“Whoa!” I cried, grabbing his shoulders for balance. Within seconds, my friends miraculously disappeared across the dance floor. Emma ditched her plan of attack and grabbed Nate’s hand, dragging him away from his soccer buddies. Tess snuck up behind Eric and kissed him on the cheek. Sadie scampered over to the punch bowl to talk to Dr. O’Neil, who she was madly in love with even though he was thirty and had two little kids.

“OMG, so embarrassing,” I muttered, all jumbled in Jacob’s arms.

Jacob laughed and helped me steady myself. “Nice friends you got there.”

“Tell me about it.” I shook my head and glanced sheepishly into his eyes.

Aaaaand
suddenly
BAM
. Before I’d even realized what had happened, the Dreaded Hold had me back in its miserable clutches. Suddenly, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

And neither could he.

Um, wait a second
.

What the heck was going on here? Jacob Fischer wasn’t my type. (I mean, not that I really knew what my type was yet, but still.) One, he was a total skatr boi. Two, when did he even learn how to talk? Three, he wasn’t even that cute.

“Brie?” he asked, those eyes still very much locked on mine.

Gulp
. “Yeah?”

Okay, he had kind of cute hair. And his smile was sort-of-maybe-a-
little-bit
-adorable. And he had gotten so, well,
tall
.

“About that dance?” he said.

“Dance?” I murmured, my eyes getting starrier by the second.

Okay fine. I’ll admit it. I had been totally in love with him back in the elementary school day. Completely, utterly, totally in love.

But come on, he missed his chance! What, did he think I was gonna just wait around for him forever like a pathetic puppy? Never!

“Um, is that a yes?” he asked, shifting awkwardly.

Jacob Fischer just asked me to dance! Twice!!!

I tried to remember Emma’s strategy. First step, run into him? Okay, check, I’d already managed that one thanks to my awesome friends. What came next? Eyelash bat? Cleavage-squeeze? I looked down.

Um. Not exactly a whole lot of cleave to squeeze . . .

I suddenly realized my only option was to work with what I had. And what I had was a lot of hair. So I snuck a quick glance around to make sure that this time nobody was in the line of fire, and whipped my hair back and forth as adorably as I could. This time, I succeeded.

Because
Jacob
smiled
.

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “I guess one little dance won’t kill me.”

(Little did I know.)

The most perfect slow-dance song in the history of the universe continued to echo softly through the speakers.

It must have been love, but it’s over now . . .

He took my hand.

It must have been good, but I lost it somehow . . .

Suddenly, the whole auditorium disappeared.

Tess, Sadie, and Emma.

Gone
.

Teachers and chaperones.

Gone
.

All the other kids in the whole auditorium.

Gone
.

At that moment, it was just him. Just me. Just one million twinkling lights, shimmering and sparkling and glowing all around us as we danced, his hands on my waist and mine on his shoulders.

And when the song ended, we kept on dancing.

I love him. I’m in love with him. Oh my god I love him.

Jacob pulled his eyes away and looked down at the floor. “Hey, Brie? I was sort of wondering something.”

If you could borrow my history notes for Monday? If you could get a ride home after the dance? If I could stop stepping on your foot? Oh god, am I stepping on his foot?!

I jerked my face down just as he leaned in, and our heads smacked together with a loud
crack
.


Oww
!” we both cried. His hands fell from my waist and mine fell from his shoulders.

Way to go, Brie. Way to kill a perfect moment.

“Man,” said Jacob. He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t know you were such a good head-butter.”

OMG. Dying of embarrassment
.

He cracked a smile. “Maybe you should think about trying out for the Olympics.”

His joke caught me off guard. I laughed and felt myself relax a little.

“Maybe I will.”

He put his hands back on my waist. Gazed at me with his deep, gorgeous, endless blue eyes. A new song began.

Sometimes you picture me
, I
’m walking too far ahead . . .

“So,” I said, mustering an ounce of courage. “What was it . . . um, what was it you wanted to ask me?”

If you fall I will catch you, I’ll be waiting, time after time . . .

Jacob smiled. Reached out, touched my face, and said five perfect words.

“If I could kiss you.”

And then he did.

BOOK: The Catastrophic History of You And Me
7.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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