The Catastrophic History of You And Me

by Jess Rothenberg

  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. Su
ddenly, 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.

  CHAPTER 13

  r-e-s-p-e-c-t, find out what it means to me

  “What is that—punch?” Patrick pointed to a glass full of what looked to be Sprite dyed bloodred with food coloring. He looked around at the Fischers’ packed living room. “Your friends have really . . . outdone themselves.”

  “You are such a snob,” I said. “Sorry if this doesn’t live up to the standards of your beloved pizza parlor.” I circled the room, happily dizzy. I don’t mean because I was drunk. I mean because for the first time ever, I didn’t have to worry about making awkward conversation with people I didn’t really know. I didn’t have to stress about not being the most popular girl there, or if I looked cool enough to have been invited in the first place. That was the beauty of it. Nobody could see me. Nobody could hear me. As far as they were all concerned, I was long gone.

  The funny thing about high school parties is that nobody’s ever having as much fun as they want you to think they are. Except this party. At this party, I was having way more fun than everyone.

  I looked around to see if Emma, Tess, and Sadie had shown up, but I didn’t see them.

  Probably still in mourning. Unlike SOME people.

  A good number of Jacob’s friends were there, plus a bunch of people I didn’t know, who must’ve been invited by Maya. I saw his two best friends, Will and Milo, who Sadie always called Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber. They were dressed as matching zombies—which seemed fitting, given their personalities. Jacob’s whole house was covered from top to bottom in Halloween decorations. The front hallway was lined with cobwebs and the living room had been transformed into a really hilarious version of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, with hamburger meat and ketchup everywhere. The backyard was totally dark except for the dimly lit swimming pool, which had been decorated with floating, glowing eyeballs.

  I can’t lie, there were definitely a few moments where the emotion of it all would creep up on me; where I’d suddenly get sad thinking about all the times I’d snuggled with him on his couch, or gone swimming with his family in the backyard, or snuck up to his bedroom while his parents thought we were “doing our homework.” But I did my best not to dwell on the sad stuff. That wasn’t the point. Tonight was all about fun. It was about seeing Jacob and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

  I pointed to a pile of plastic vampire fangs that had been put out as party favors. “Fun!” I tried picking them up, but my hand passed right through the table. I cast a teasing glance at Patrick. “You’d better be glad I can’t put those in.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d bite you, that’s why.”

  “Angel, please.” He tilted his head back so his neck was exposed. “Don’t let me stop you.”

  I came closer. “I’ll do it.”

  “You should.”

  Our eyes met, and for a split second neither of us looked away. I reached for his neck, but stopped myself.

  What am I doing?

  He noticed my hesitation. “Not thirsty after all? Guess I’ll just have to find some other vampiress to offer myself up to.” He did a quick scan of the room. “Ooh. Like maybe her, for example.”

  I turned and couldn’t believe the girl he’d pointed out. “Anna Clayton? What is it with every guy on the planet liking her? She’s not even that cute!”

  “Whoa there.” Patrick held up his hands. “Calm down, Cheez Whiz. It was just an observation. Don’t go all psycho on me or anything.”

  “Don’t let your mom go all psych—”

  Right then, I heard a crashing sound from another room.

  “Yikes. That can’t be good.”

  “Thank god,” he said. “Maybe this party is finally about to get interesting after all.”

  We followed the commotion through the hallway into the kitchen, where a few kids were trying to break open a Frankenstein piñata. I saw Maya rush over with a pissed-off expression on her face, but oddly, her brother was still nowhere to be fo
und. For a split second, I considered running upstairs to check his bedroom, but then I realized it’d be way better to catch him in a group. Where I could embarrass him publicly.

  Much, MUCH better.

  “So, do we need to go over the rules one more time?” asked Patrick. “You remember what I taught you? It’s all about intention. It won’t work unless you’re completely focused.”

  “Can we go over the focus part again?” I said sarcastically.

  He crossed his arms. “Clearly, my help is no longer appreciated.” He turned to leave the kitchen.

  “No, stop, don’t go!” I called to him. “You’re so sensitive. I was just kidding.”

  Patrick turned back to face me, smiling. The sight of him caught me a little off guard. The way his shirt clung to him. The way his dark hair complemented his deep-set eyes. The way his jeans fit just right . . .

  He looked kind of, um, hot. You know, for a dead kid.

  Why, thank you, his voice echoed through my mind. Not so bad yourself.

  I froze, completely mortified he’d heard that. I still wasn’t used to sharing my head with somebody else. Especially when that somebody else happened to be a kinda attractive guy—

  “Kinda”?

  “Hey!” I snapped. “Seriously, get out of there!”

  Patrick just laughed.

  But suddenly, I noticed the front door open behind him. Saw a familiar body step into the room. A face I knew so, so well. I felt myself tense up. It took everything I had to stay strong. It took more than everything not to run straight into his arms.

  There he was. The actual, literal boy of my dreams.

  That is, until the dream became a nightmare. Right now, I needed to focus on the nightmare.

  So this is the guy, huh? Patrick gazed toward the front door.

  I was frozen in place. This is him.

  I mean seriously, what’s the big deal? What’s with all the girls on the planet liking him? He’s not even that cute.

  I hate you.

  You love me.

  YOU love you.

  Fair enough. So what are you waiting for?

  I took a few steps forward. Stopped. There were people swarming all around him. Don’t lose focus.

  I pushed through the crowd, unseen, unheard. Jacob. My Jacob. His eyes were tired. Sad. And even though he was surrounded on all sides by people who knew him—by people who cared and who understood bits and pieces about what had happened to him recently—he looked lonely. Lost.