Everyone applauded. They looked at her like she was a hero who’d offered us all some kind of salvation. They feasted on those words meant for a dead boy with no future. It suddenly seemed like Andy and what he had done couldn’t touch us. We were not him. None of us could be him. Look at us, we were here. Our futures were guaranteed. Everyone’s parents breathed a sigh of relief.
I sat there in a stupor, surrounded by all these people, and wondered, where was the despair? Why didn’t they tell us what to do when life becomes so crippling that all you can do is kill yourself? What were you supposed to do when you felt that way? I stared at the row where Andy would have been. All the seats were filled. No empty chair to remind us. No despair. No words about this. Just a diploma and a kick in the ass before we all realized how ill-equipped we really were.
And besides, what the hell was this truth? I suffered through a speech that guaranteed we’d find it in ourselves, and yet, Andy never did. Or did he think he had to die to find it? Did that mean life was just a huge lie to him?
If Andy really thought that, then that night, the night he said would be some great adventure, the last night he was alive . . . he was just fucking with me.
Chapter 13
I go inside my house and straight to my bedroom. I turn on the TV and crawl under my red blanket. The familiar dialogue of The Iron Giant fills the room. Without the pounding music filling up my head, Joel’s words come back and make me feel terrible all over again.
I think about how messed up things have gotten. Each day I just want to be isolated in this room more and more. That would be so much easier. Maybe I can lock myself in here and my parents can bring a tray of food to my door. Every day I can just sit here, peering out my window and painting pictures. And then all the kids can be scared of me and make up scary stories about me.
But my parents won’t be around forever, which means I’ll be alone, in this house, for decades. Maybe nobody will even know when I die in here, like the old man across the street. Maybe I’ll just rot in this room.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I quickly reach for it hoping it’s Joel.
It’s not.
Hey, it’s Colin. Just making sure you got home okay.
I cringe because he apparently thinks I’m a raging dumbass. It really sucks for someone to witness you at your worst.
Then another text comes in.
Uh, I don’t mean you’re a crazy person. Ur not. Not really.
I sigh. I’m just about to text back when another text comes in.
And now you probably think I’m a weirdo bc I’ve sent you two texts in less than a minute.
Actually . . .
Actually 3. And this makes 4. And now you think I’m crazy. But I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.
I start texting back, but then another text comes in.
I’m not.
I’m wondering what that means when I get the rest of the text.
Crazy. Or a stalker. This is bad. Can you delete all of these, please? I’m stopping now.
Despite feeling horrible, I smile as another one buzzes in.
Basically, I just hope you’re okay.
I’m fine, I text back. And send more texts individually.
I didn’t run over anyone.
Thanks for checking.
I don’t think you’re crazy or a stalker.
I guess you’re all right.
Thanks for hanging around.
I’m not a stalker either.
I wait to see if he responds. He does.
No problem.
I text back.
Goodnight, Colin.
Goodnight, Frenchie.
I lie back down and stare at my ceiling, replaying tonight over and over again. I see me and Joel at the Stage, yelling at each other. And Lily standing there with that stupid look on her face.
I close my eyes to shut out those images, but when I do, I see flashes of Andy Cooper. I see snapshots of that night and how I must have missed something. If I could just go back and find out what I missed . . . it would somehow give me the power to change it. I would wake up in a new day, where none of this had happened. Where I somehow saved him. And my life, everything, would make sense again.
If what happened with Andy Cooper had never happened then everything would be different. I would be different and then maybe this night with Joel wouldn’t have gone down the way it did.
But I also can’t help thinking, if Joel had never met Lily, if he’d been there the night I ran into Andy, then that night would never have happened the way it did either.
I don’t even know what to think anymore and I just want to fall asleep and think of nothing.
I close my eyes again, but this time I see the blonde woman peering down at me in the middle of the dance floor. Is that Frenchie? Is that girl’s name Frenchie?
I open my eyes. It’s useless. I roll out of bed, let myself flop onto the floor, and stay there.
I’m crazy. Had he said that or was I just imagining it? Was Andy crazy? Would he have killed himself no matter what? Or could I have changed it somehow?
What did I miss?
I look at my clock. Midnight. The red numbers click to 12:01 and the swirl of the red and gold lights at the Stage plays back in my head. And the way I felt when I walked in there again.
I hold in my breath.
My heart races as my mind comes up with a crazy plan. I wonder if I should, if I can do it.
I watch the minutes pass as I try to work up the courage. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not courage that makes me reach for the phone. It’s those minutes ticking by and the knowing that I can’t stay here, waiting for another morning, where I’ll wake up and try to find reasons to get out of bed.
I hold my phone and start tapping away before I can change my mind.
R u there?
I wait, hoping he’ll text back. A moment later, my phone buzzes with an incoming text.
I’m here. What’s up?
I’m not okay.
When I see those words typed out, I realize the truth of them. I let them register for a minute knowing more than ever that I have to go through with this. I keep typing.
I need to figure out something. And I need a favor. It’s kind of crazy.
OK . . . ?
Will u meet me at the corner of my block?
Same block as Greenwood Cemetery. Do u know where that is?
Now?
Yes.
Sure. What should I do when I get there? Just wait. Then I’ll tell you the rest. OK . . . b there in 15.
Chapter 14
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve checked to make sure my parents aren’t awake. I turn off my light and slowly open my window, every muscle in my body tensing at the slightest squeak.
Once outside, I walk around the side of my house and run down to the corner. I already see a car waiting there and I pray that it’s Colin’s. I peer inside as I get closer and see that he’s looking for me. He smiles when he sees me and I open the door.
“Hey,” I say as I get in, suddenly embarrassed about asking Colin to meet me here. The longest conversation we’ve ever had was fifteen minutes ago via text messages.
“Hey,” he says. I can tell he’s a little nervous too. “So, I’m here. First part is done, now will you tell me what you need?”
I don’t know how to say it without it sounding incredibly creepy. It seems impossible to try and explain everything all at once. I take a deep breath and hope my explanation is enough.
“I know this is going to sound crazy. But maybe you already think I am crazy, so it won’t even matter at this point. . . . I just, I have to do this thing,” I tell him. I can hear the way my voice goes up at the end of my sentence. I’m irritated with how nervous I sound.
“Hey,” he says, “it’s okay. Whatever you need to do, we’ll do it. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say and I turn to look at him. “I just need you to hang out with me tonight, to have one night of a
dventure. See, I barely know you and that’s what makes it so perfect. Because I need to figure something out, and I think this is the only way to do it,” I tell him. “I basically just have to finish tonight. And there’s no backing out.”
He looks at me oddly. I know he wants to ask me what the hell that even means, but instead he says slowly, “Okay.”
I nod, relieved. “Okay then.”
“So where to?”
“The Stage.”
He raises an eyebrow, but says, “The Stage it is.” He shifts the car into drive.
Chapter 15
We pull into the nearest parking lot. Colin turns off the engine and starts to get out of the car, but I don’t. I’m suddenly terrified of facing that place again.
Colin looks over at me. “You ready?”
I shake my head. He waits, but after awhile, he gets out. I watch as he comes over to my side and opens the door.
“Come on,” he says.
“Hold on,” I say. He stands there while I sit and try to think. “It’s just . . . nothing about tonight is going to make sense,” I say. “And it’s more than kind of crazy. It’s sort of . . . demented.” I suddenly realize how warped this is, how I’m basically trying to chase down a ghost. “Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask you to be part of it.”
He stares at me. “You’re a really strange girl, Frenchie.”
“I know,” I say. “And I’m probably only going to seem stranger after tonight.”
“Well,” he says and looks out at the parking lot. I sit and wait, sure he will get back in the car and drive my strange, demented ass home. But instead he leans down and looks directly at me. “A few things: I don’t mind strange. And I’m already a part of this. No backing out, right?”
I stare back at him and know that Colin will probably take me anywhere I ask him tonight. But not back home. Not yet.
“So,” he says. “Let’s go.”
I take a deep breath, will myself to move, and finally get out of the car.
We head toward the Stage and I get the same feeling I did earlier. That sense of déjà vu. I’m walking to the Stage now, with Colin, but somewhere else, I’m walking to the Stage alone and my whole night with Andy is just about to begin.
I turn and look over my shoulder, half expecting to see Andy, but only Colin is there, looking at me.
When we get to the door, we flash our wristbands from earlier and the guy at the door lets us in.
“You ready?” Colin asks. I nod and we go inside.
Sugar’s equipment is no longer onstage, and the music is now being provided by a DJ set up in the far corner of the room. The music he’s spinning is loud and pulsing and the place is dark without the bright lights from the stage. The few lights that are flashing are just like in my dream, just like that night, and I feel like I’ve found a wormhole somehow. Like I might actually be able to step back and forth, between now and then. I have a strange desire to go to the middle of the dance floor and lie down, just to see if it will open up and swallow me. Maybe Andy will be in that hole. Maybe I can finally ask him what I’ve been dying to know.
Lily and Joel are dancing and Robyn and Bobby are making out. I slowly make my way around the outside of the crowd, hoping they don’t notice me. Colin follows. I stop in front of the wall at the far end of the club, opposite the stage, where you go if you don’t want the lights of the dance floor to hit you. Where you go if you don’t want to be seen. I lean closer to Colin and say, “Will you wait here for me? I’ll be right back.”
He nods. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right here,” he says.
“And don’t let any of them see you,” I say and gesture toward Joel, Lily, and Robyn. “I don’t want them to know I’m back.”
He looks out at the group. “Okay.”
I turn around and set my eyes on the red velvet curtain that covers a doorway on the wall to my right. I make my way toward it, not knowing exactly what is on the other side, but knowing this is where I need to start. And somehow, behind that curtain, is the opening to the wormhole that will lead me to that other night. The night where Andy is still alive, the night where nothing has happened yet.
PART 2
WILD NIGHTS—WILD NIGHTS!
Chapter 16
Have you ever been sitting outside and the mailman shows up with a package for you? It’s awesome because you weren’t expecting it, and you feel special. You feel awesome. You feel excited as the mailman delivers it, all pretty with a bow. And he sets it down right in front of you with a smile and a tip of his hat.
You pull the bow, but here’s what’s inside:
One of those little black bombs with a burning fuse at the end, like the kind you see in cartoons. You’re stunned. You run up to the mailman and say, “Dude, I don’t want this!” You try to give it back, but he just pushes it back to you, and so on and so forth, and during all that time the fuse is getting shorter and shorter. Finally he just drives away, and you’re standing there, holding this little bomb in your hand, just waiting for the boom.
That was me.
Andy Cooper was the boom.
Chapter 17
THAT NIGHT
I arrive at the Stage about ten minutes before the Tantrums are scheduled to go on. The place is already packed. People are standing around, waiting and talking to each other. I look around for Joel, because he and Lily are supposed to meet me here.
I don’t see them anywhere, and actually, I don’t get why Joel couldn’t hang without Lily. They’d only met last week, but already they were together 24/7. But whatever, at least he is going to come. I hate being at shows by myself.
I walk around trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible in the attempt to not look like some loser who doesn’t have friends. Still no Joel and Lily, so I find an empty space near the door. I take out a cigarette and light up so I’ll at least have something to do with my hands. I keep watch of the door, waiting for Joel and Lily to show up.
Twenty minutes later, the Tantrums still haven’t taken the stage and there’s no sign of Joel or Lily. I’m pissed and on my third cigarette.
I throw the cigarette butt on the floor and put it out with my shoe, then scrounge around in my bag for gum, but only find a slightly opened apple Jolly Rancher. I wipe the lint and crumbs off of it, unwrap it, and pop it in my mouth.
I look toward the door again for the hundredth time. And that’s when I see him.
Not Joel, but Andy Cooper.
I watch him walk across the room, in his wrinkled button-down shirt and khaki shorts. People stop to stare at his ridiculous outfit. He meets their gazes as he walks by them. I keep my eyes on him, tracking him by his brownish blond hair, and then he disappears behind the red velvet curtain on the far side of the room.
I take a deep breath and tell myself to relax. It’s stupid to get this worked up over a guy.
The Tantrums finally take the stage. The lead singer has flaming orange hair that is impressively spiked and sticking up a good six inches from his scalp. He’s skinny and pale, which means he probably shouldn’t wear that leather jacket without a shirt underneath, but somehow it works. He doesn’t work the crowd at all. The band just immediately starts playing and he starts yelling into the microphone like he’s possessed. He jumps and throws himself all over the stage and the crowd loves it. I can see he’s bleeding, but he just bangs his head around some more and screams.
I groan. This is bad, but most of the crowd seems to be enjoying their stupid antics. I crane my neck and look for Joel again. I’m pretty sure that he’s not coming at this point and I probably just got ditched for whatever better thing he’s doing with Lily.
Somehow I’ve ended up in the middle of the floor, having been pushed closer to the stage with everyone trying to get closer. I finally make it back to the edge of the throng of idiots and press up against the safety of the wall while people continue jumping and thrashing around. I look over to the red velvet curtain and notice Andy Cooper coming back through it.<
br />
Some sketchy guy wearing glasses follows behind him. They talk for a minute before the sketchy guy goes to the bar. Andy reaches for something in his pocket, a flask, and takes a swig from it.
I never would have pegged Andy Cooper for having a flask and boozing it up on the weekends. He takes another swig, puts it away, and then looks around the room and notices me. He smiles and just kind of stares at me for a moment.
The obvious thing to do when the guy you’ve had a crush on for the past four years looks at you and smiles is to smile back. Or maybe even wave. Someone like Robyn could pull off a wink. But me, I look away and pretend I didn’t see him. I think I might have actually accidentally scowled.
I look at the stage for a minute, then I look back to where Andy was standing, but he’s gone. My stomach drops and I curse myself for being such a moron.
“Frenchie,” I hear on the other side of me. I look over and there’s Andy, tall and beautiful and incredibly close.
“Andy. Andy Cooper. How the hell are you?” I say this with too much gusto and like a fucking forty-year-old salesman running into an old college buddy. I’m surprised I didn’t give him a slap on the back and a handshake. He smiles and shrugs. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.”
“It’s me,” I say, as if it weren’t obvious.
“Yeah . . . ,” he says. “That’s what I thought. So, are you a fan?” He gestures to the Tantrums onstage.
Death, Dickinson, and the Demented Life of Frenchie Garcia Page 7
