The Catastrophic History of You And Me

by Jess Rothenberg

  I undid the clasp and fastened it around her neck. The chain was just the right length; not too long, not too short.

  “Perfect.” Tess beamed, looking more Ariel-ish than ever.

  Sadie pushed a stray piece of dark hair from her eyes. “Me next.” She spent a minute or two poking around at the necklaces and looked disappointed. “Aw, you guys, I don’t really see one I like.”

  “What about this one?” I reached over and pulled out a gold chain with a cute, slightly uneven star.

  “Brie!” Sadie threw her arms around me. “This is perfect. I love it!” She rooted through the jewelry box. “What about this one for you?” She lifted a charm from the box and held it up for me to see. It glimmered at me from the palm of her hand, and when I picked it up, it was like the necklace had chosen me.

  A heart.

  Sadie moved behind me and brushed my hair back, so I could lock the clasp. Then she put her arm around me and kissed my cheek. “Love it!”

  “Hey, I know,” Tess said. “Let’s always wear these. Let’s always wear these and always be there for each other, no matter what.”

  “Oh all right.” Sadie sighed dramatically. “I will put you back into the Oscar speech.”

  We all stared at each other for a second, and then completely broke down laughing.

  “Always,” I said.

  “Forever.” Sadie looked at me and smiled. Her brown eyes sparkled and I could see how much she loved me.

  Oh, Sadie. I miss you so much.

  All of a sudden, I felt the cool brush of gold against my skin. I smelled the salty-sour mix of polluted city air as the shop melted away and the Macaulay Park playground faded back into view.

  Larkin was right back in front of me, her hand outstretched. “Hellooo? Earth to Brie . . .”

  A feeling reached up from somewhere in my stomach.

  No. She can’t have it.

  “Here.” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a rusty pocketknife.

  Where’d she get that?

  She took a step toward me. “Let me help you take it off.”

  Hamloaf must’ve read my mind again, because he started to growl from across the playground, deep and low.

  I watched Larkin carefully. “Why do you need a pocket-knife?”

  “Don’t be afraid,” she said. “It won’t hurt or anything. You’ll get what you want, I’ll get what I want. And then”—she smiled sweetly—“we’ll be best friends forever.”

  Okay, stalker, talk about taking things a bit too literally. Suddenly, I was completely creeped out of my mind.

  “Listen,” I said, backing up. “I don’t think I’m feeling up for this—” But before I knew what was happening, I felt my limbs move out of my own control. Felt myself kneeling in the sand before her, like some kind of sacrificial lamb chop.

  What?!

  I watched in fear as she flicked the pocketknife blade up and marched toward me.

  Hold on a second. What the hell sort of trade are we talking about?

  I was just a girl. Just a girl made of smoke and dust and faded memories. What could she possibly want from me?

  Salvation, I thought I heard Patrick whisper. She wants your eternal salvation.

  “My eternal WHAT?” My forehead broke into an icy sweat.

  “I’ll just cut the chain and you’re home.” Larkin brought the blade toward my neck. “As easy as snapping a photo. So say cheese.”

  I felt my nonexistent pulse begin to race as I tried to make sense out of what she was saying. Was she telling the truth or not?

  “Home?” I said. “You really mean it?”

  She nodded. “Really and truly.”

  Shaking, I reached for the clasp, even as my tiny golden heart began to scorch and smolder against my skin. This time, it burned hotter and fiercer and wilder than before, and I cried out as the pain intensified.

  Suddenly, I became worried that I wouldn’t be able to get the chain off before it burned a hole right through my skin. But when I looked up into Larkin’s eyes, I saw something that terrified me even more.

  Her eyes were cold. They were hollow. They were dead.

  Run, Brie. Run NOW.

  Imaginary voice or not, I wasn’t about to take any chances.

  So I whistled for Hamloaf. I leaped to my feet. And I ran.

  CHAPTER 34

  to die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die

  We touched down in Jacob’s backyard and went flying into the bushes, a tangled mass of ghost girl and hound. “Ugh,” I said, spitting out a big mouthful of leaves and twigs. “I think I sprained my butt.”

  Speaking of butts, Hamloaf’s was right in my face. “Oh gross, Ham, get off!” He pulled himself to his feet with a grunt and shook himself off, collar jangling.

  “I’m getting too old for this,” I groaned, rising to my feet. My back let out a loud crack when I stood up, and I vowed to sign up for a Zooming Ed class just as soon as I got some free time. I tiptoed across the yard over to the Fischers’ sunroom, and peeked in through the blinds. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized I was staring at the back of Mr. Fischer’s head—a giant bald spot, to be precise—while he and Jacob’s mom watched American Idol.

  “Oh, he’s awful,” Mrs. Fischer said, commenting on some dude’s screechy rendition of “Hooked on a Feeling.”

  “Not as bad as the last one,” said Mr. Fischer, flipping through the newspaper. “Did you call the school again this afternoon?”

  Mrs. Fischer sat up, and I could see she looked a little weary. “I did.”

  “And?”

  “They’re not making any promises. The coach feels terrible, but with Jacob sitting out the rest of the season, there’s really nothing they can do. He said they’d revisit the issue this summer, once he’s had more time to heal.” She paused and took a long, slow sip of tea. “The best thing he can do for now is focus on keeping his GPA up, and staying with the physical therapy—”

  “My son is going to Princeton!” Mr. Fischer slammed his hand down on the table, reminding me that I’d never really liked him. He’d had a bad temper for as long as I could remember, and had always been way too tough on Jacob and Maya. Total military dad: strict, orderly, a little old-fashioned. He’d caught the two of us making out on the couch once and I’d thought he was literally going to go through the roof.

  “That boy has worked too hard and come too far, Mary. I’ll be damned if one little injury is going to get in the way.”

  “Lower your voice,” she said. “You know how upset he is. You know how tough this year has been on him, first with Brie . . .” She paused for a moment. “And now this injury. If we push him too hard now, he may decide to quit track altogether.”

  “Over my dead body he’ll quit.” Mr. Fischer threw down the paper. “He’ll just have to work harder. Quitting is not an option.” Then he stormed out of the room.

  Suddenly, I was overcome with guilt. What kind of trouble had I gotten Jacob into? I’d only meant to shake things up a little. Not to ruin his whole life. I knew now that I’d been wrong to punish him. I’d been wrong to sneak around and steal Sadie’s phone and spy on their private conversations.

  I’d even been wrong to hate them.

  Sure, I’d had my reasons. But I had also let my anger get the best of me. Sadie had been a good friend—my best friend—once upon a time. And Jacob had been an amazing boyfriend. But we were only sixteen. What had I really expected would happen? That he would be the only person I would ever love? That someday the two of us would ride off together into the after-high-school-sunset?

  The truth was, when I really thought about it, our relationship had never been perfect. It had never been the exact right fit. Jacob was hilarious and cute and smart and sensitive—more than any guy I’d ever known. But he could also be distant. Moody. Too hard on himself when things didn’t go his way. There had been a few times when—as much as I hated to admit it—I hadn’t liked kissing him as much as I�
�d wanted to. We’d had some epic kisses, for sure, but there had also been kisses where I’d felt something missing.

  Even though I had never really understood what.

  Watching my parents fall apart had made me rethink a couple of things. Like maybe, just maybe, Jacob had never been the boy of my dreams.

  And maybe it wasn’t fair to keep punishing him for it.

  If Sadie and Jacob had found that thing everyone in heaven and on earth was searching for, who was I to stand in their way? I might not have a magic wand to fix all the things I’d broken, but I could try. Besides, life was long, but death was longer. I didn’t want to end up like Crossword Lady, plunking away at crossword puzzle after crossword puzzle for the next fifteen eons. I knew what I had to do.

  It was time to make peace with Jacob Fischer.

  I made my way across the backyard, around the pool, and over to the big sequoia tree on the left side of the house. I tried to zoom, but the trip from the city had left me totally exhausted and I didn’t have the full amount of energy that zooming required. My best option—my only option—was to climb.

  Hamloaf stayed right at my heels and gave me a curious look when I grabbed hold of the highest branch I could reach and threw one leg over and up. “I’ll be back in a sec,” I said. “You stay.”

  He whined, long and low. Opened his mouth like he was about to let loose.

  “Don’t you dare bark, Hamloaf Eagan,” I whispered, “or Jacob’s parents will send you straight home.”

  I reached for the next branch, hoisting myself higher. I’d hoped to channel my inner spider monkey, but was pretty sure I was only channeling my inner Chihuahua. I’m not sure why I’d thought being dead would make me some kind of expert tree climber.

  “Wow, I suck at this,” I grumbled. The ribbon on my dress—now tattered from all kinds of bridge jumping and bay swimming and crash landings—caught momentarily on a sharp edge of one of the branches. I managed to pull it free, but in the process got a quick visual of the ground below. Hamloaf was now about as big as my pinky toe.

  “What the heck have they been feeding this thing?” I said. “This tree is way higher than it used to be.” But there was no turning back now. I climbed higher and higher through the branches until I was just about level with the third floor. I leaned back against the trunk to catch my breath, and blew the hair out of my eyes. Then I counted to three, held my arms out like a tightrope walker, and slowly began to walk the branch—one step at a time—toward the glowing bedroom window fifteen feet in front of me.

  Don’t fall, don’t fall, do NOT fall.

  Once I’d made it to the end of the branch, there was only one thing left to do.

  Jump.

  I took another deep breath, and threw myself across five feet of open air until I landed with a giant thud, my face smashed in the ivy.

  Hamloaf began to growl from somewhere way below. “Don’t you do it,” I said. “Don’t you make me come down there.” I curled my fingers around the ivy-covered trellis and imagined Patrick laughing at the sight.

  Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other siiiiiide. . . . it’s the climb, I could almost hear him doing an intentionally bad impression of Miley Cyrus.

  Then I felt a pang of sadness.

  Silly outfit or not, I had really started to miss him.

  I made my way to Jacob’s window and slowly peeked in. I saw him almost immediately, sitting at his desk with his back to me. He was hunched over, head down, his books and papers spread all around him. But as I peered in closer, I realized something else.

  He was crying.

  CHAPTER 35

  who will save your soul if you won’t save your own?

  Lucky for me, Jacob’s window was open just wide enough to crawl through without causing a disturbance. He had his music on pretty loud too—Train’s album Save Me, San Francisco—so I don’t think he would’ve heard me even if I had.

  I glanced around the room and saw it was pretty much the same as it had always been. Track posters stuck up all over his white walls, navy-blue carpet and bedspread, trophies of races he’d won, a big map of the world with thumbtacks stuck in all the places he wanted to run someday. Hawaii. Australia. The Great Wall of China.

  Just then, Train’s song “Half Moon Bay” started up, reminding me of all the times we’d spent walking around downtown together. Sharing Oreo milk shakes from M’s, browsing old records at the Music Hut, and all our bike rides down Main Street. My eyes fell on the pair of crutches leaning up against his bed, causing me to wince.

  Bike riding would definitely be out for a while. Not that he even had a bike to ride. I’d done a number on that too.

  Patrick was right.

  Women are crazy.

  Jacob wiped his face with the back of his hand and coughed. I could hear the sound of his parents starting to yell at each other again from downstairs.

  One big happy family.

  “Hey, Jacob,” I said softly from across the room. “I’m here.” I didn’t want to scare him, so I kept myself at a pretty good distance. But as the melody of the song went on, his shoulders began to shake even harder.

  I glanced guiltily at his crutches, then heard his cell phone go off. He reached for it and cleared his throat. “Hey. What’s up?”

  The sound of his voice still got to me, even if my feelings had begun to change.

  “Nothing. I dunno.” He paused, and I could hear little snippets of Sadie’s voice coming through the receiver.

  “Worried about you . . . not yourself . . . you have to tell them.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Jacob argued. “He’ll throw me out, don’t you get it? He’s pissed enough about this track bullshit anyway. Nobody can know, Sadie. I can’t—”

  Her voice came back heated through the receiver. “Not fair. Screw them. Who cares what they think?”

  “I do!” Jacob shot back. “I give a shit, all right? Look at all the pain I’ve already caused everyone. I should never have told you, so just forget it. It’s not your problem. You don’t understand.”

  “Jacob—I—”

  “Listen, I gotta go.” He hung up the phone and threw it onto the bed.

  I was completely lost. What problem did he mean? What the hell were they talking about? The kids at school couldn’t still be giving him hell for dating Sadie, could they? Nearly a whole school year had gone by. PCH must have found something new to gossip about by now. There had to have been other scandals besides some kid dating his dead ex’s best friend. There were definitely worse things in life. Just turn on the news, for god’s sake.

  He cranked his music way up and ran his fingers through his hair. I made my way across his room, doing everything in my power not to give off any sort of freaky death vibes. I came up behind him. Focused my energy. Then, ever so slowly, I rested one hand on his shoulder. Then another.

  Jacob. I’m here for you.

  He broke down, and buried his face in his hands. Lonely, gut-wrenching sobs began to pour out of him, muffled only slightly by the sound of the music’s soulful acoustics. His pain was everywhere. I could taste it; I could smell it; I could feel it as his shoulders caved in.

  “Shhh,” I whispered. “It’s going to be okay.” I smoothed his hair back with my fingers. “Whatever it is, I promise it’s going to be okay.” I just didn’t get it. In all my years of knowing him, I’d never seen him this upset.

  Never ever.

  I let my hand lightly trace his back, feeling the warmth of his body radiating beneath his shirt. Then I bent down, almost afraid to breathe, and gently touched my lips to his cheek. One kiss to fix it all. One kiss to apologize for everything I’d put him through.

  I just hoped he could feel it.

  I’m sorry, Jacob.

  But when I pulled my lips away, the world was exactly as it had been before. He was still a mess. And I was nothing but a faded shadow on his bedroom wall.

  He sat back and wiped his face on his sleeve. Then he reache
d for his spiral-bound notebook and got back to finishing what he’d started. I watched the tip of his pen move across the messy page, not bothering to translate the mix of boy-handwriting stained with teardrops. But as I watched his fingers tighten around the pen, I decided to take another look.

  What in the world could he be working on so intently? A college essay? A lab report? Maybe he was late on a term paper?

  I leaned in over his shoulder to get a closer look, and realized it was none of those things. It was a letter.

  But when I saw exactly what kind of letter it was, I felt the room start to spin around me.

  I can’t live like this anymore.

  I can’t go on hiding, or pretend to be somebody I’m not. I tried to change. I tried to be a different person.

  But this is who I am. This is WHAT I am.

  I stopped reading.

  What you are?

  My mind flashed back to the night of our last-ever date. October 4, 2010. The night when his words had sent my heart into eternal failure. The truth is, I had known that he was about to break up with me. I had seen the fear and sadness in his eyes when he’d picked me up for our date. I just hadn’t wanted to face it.

  Don’t do this to me, I remember begging him silently from across the table. Don’t do this to us. Please.

  Of course, in the end, he’d said the words anyway.

  I DON’T LOVE YOU.

  But sitting there in Jacob’s bedroom, watching him, it occurred to me that I’d never actually heard his reasons why. Ever since that morning on the beach, I’d assumed that he had chosen Sadie over me. But what if I’d been wrong about everything? What if I’d made a terrible, horrible mistake?

  My mind raced. I realized that I had seen Jacob and Sadie embrace that morning after the bonfire, but nothing more. I realized that I had seen them sharing glances and whispers and text messages, but never a single kiss. I realized that I had seen them both beginning to unravel, locked together in their silence, while our friends punished them for it.

  And all the while, I had been the one leading the pack.