The Catastrophic History of You And Me (11 page)

“Oh, right,” I scoffed. “Like you’re SO much better.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Observe the master.” Then he threw his head back and started totally rocking out.

“
Take my hand and we’ll make it, I swea-ear! Whoa-oh, livin’ on a prayer!
”

The crazy thing was, Patrick was good. Like, really,
really
good. I was thoroughly impressed. “Dude! You should try out for
American Idol
!”

He smiled and threw me an invisible microphone. “Do we dare try to harmonize?”

I did my best, but after about five seconds of screeching, the two of us broke down into hysterical laughter. So what if he’d discovered my one flaw. Laughing felt good. No, it felt amazing.

Everything’s okay now
.
It’s going to be okay
.

Patrick smiled at me. I smiled back.

Brie
? I heard him whisper.
Do you remember—

“Hey!” I cried out as the farmer’s market went flying by. I glanced back over my shoulder, confused. “Dad, what are you doing? You missed your turn.”

Is he taking a new way home? Weird.

We sped down the highway, passing familiar street after familiar street.

Maybe he’s stopping somewhere to get flowers for Mom or something?

We hit a red light, and Dad put on his blinker.

“Dad, why are you turning here?”

He waited for two cars to pass, then made a quick left, into the parking lot of the Hilton Hotel.

What’s at the Hilton?

He pulled into a spot, shifted the car into park, and shut off the ignition. He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out.

What the hell is he doing?

Patrick didn’t venture a guess. He was just as clueless as me.

We followed Dad through the hotel lobby with the friendly bellhops and the big chandeliers and the fake palm trees. We followed him into the elevator and rode up with him to the eleventh floor.

Eleven, my lucky number.

We followed him down the long, carpeted hallway. Until he stopped in front of room 1108. He knocked twice. I heard someone undo the lock from the other side. The door opened.

It was a woman.

I froze.

No.

Blond hair, cut into a short pixie style. Bright blue eyes.

No.

“Daniel.”

“Sarah.”

Mrs. Brenner
?

I couldn’t breathe. My teacher. My neighbor. My mother’s best friend.

Dad dropped his briefcase. Loosened his tie. Before I realized what was happening, he had broken down, weeping. A little bit at first, then more, until he had melted one hundred percent into her arms.

No, please. Please no.

“Unbelievable,” whispered Patrick.

Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.

And then they were hugging.

And then they were kissing.

And then I bolted down the hallway and didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 17

shot through the heart, and you’re to blame

M
y head was spinning. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or where I was going or what time it was or even what
year
it was. All I knew was that I had been lied to. My whole world and whole identity and whole existence felt like one huge, enormous, not-even-a-little-bit-funny joke.

If your parents—two people so totally and utterly in love that everyone who ever meets them gets that they’re insanely perfect for each other—if THEY can’t even get it right, then how in the world is a girl like me supposed to keep on believing in things like love and family and
forever
?

I was so incredibly angry. Angry at Dad for messing everything up. Angry at Mrs. Brenner for stabbing my whole family in the back. Angry at Jacob for coming into my happy, easy life when I never asked him to. I was even angry at Patrick for bringing me back to see it all. I couldn’t even look at him, I was so mad.

Meanwhile in all of my I-just-saw-my-dad-making-out-with-another-woman rage, I had apparently zoomed myself straight from the Hilton right into downtown Half Moon. I hadn’t even crash-landed, which was kind of amazing. Too bad I wasn’t in the mood to gloat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Patrick asked, once he’d figured out where I’d gone.

“Nope.”

Short. Sweet. To the point.

Across Main Street, an old hippie dude started crooning a Neil Young song I recognized. It was one of Dad’s favorites.

Because I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again.

Because I’m still in love with you, on this harvest moon
.

“Shut up!” I yelled at him. “Nobody wants to hear it!”

“So I realize this is probably a bad time,” said Patrick as we passed Pasta Moon, one of Sadie’s favorite restaurants. “But I do sort of have a surprise for you.”

“I hate surprises.”

“Funny, that’s not what I heard.”

“You heard wrong.”

I was headed toward Pilarcitos Creek Park. I needed to disappear for a little while. Sit on the grass. Get some air. Watch the stoners debate solar wind energy or something.

“Oh, come on,” Patrick groaned when he realized where I was taking us. “Don’t you know I’m lethally allergic to sunshine and happiness?”

“It’s
my
birthday, I get to make all the decisions.”

“Fine,” he said. “Except for tonight. Tonight’s on me.”

I shrugged. “Whatever.”

We walked a good ways into the park, down some twisty-turny pathways, until I found a big field that looked just right. Nice view, good sun, excellent grass-to-dirt ratio. I made my way over to a lonely old poplar tree, flopped down on my back, and pointed my face toward the sky. Tried to erase the mental image of my dad in someone else’s arms. Someone I’d trusted. Someone I’d cared about. The thought of her made me sick to my stomach.

Did Mom have any idea? How long could it have been going on? Dad’s kiss with Mrs. Brenner definitely hadn’t looked like a first kiss.

Ugh, gross
.

Here was a man I’d looked up to my entire life. A man who had always been my hero. He’d been a hero for all of us at some point or another. He still
was,
for Jack.

I decided then and there that I would never forgive him. It was unforgivable, what he was doing. He had betrayed Mom. He had betrayed Jack. He’d even betrayed Hamloaf.

He had betrayed us all.

“And today. On today out of
all
possible days.” My voice shook and tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I didn’t cry. I was too angry to cry. “Love is such a complete and total crock.”

I thought about how Jacob’s parents had separated for a short time last year. How I’d been there for him, through the whole thing, and how he had literally wept in my arms the afternoon his dad moved out. I’ll never forget Jacob’s face that day. He looked like a little boy, scared and confused and upset that maybe he could’ve done something to stop it. I remembered how I had biked home that night and hugged both my parents, even as they yelled at me for being almost a full hour past my eleven o’clock curfew. I hugged them both and held on tight. I felt so lucky that we were different from all the other families.

We were happy. We were safe. Nothing could ever tear us apart.

But I was wrong.

I was wrong about a lot of things, actually.

CHAPTER 18

16 candles make a lovely light

P
atrick and I stayed in that field the rest of the afternoon. Didn’t talk much. Mostly just soaked up the chilly November sun, stretched out side by side, and watched the clouds pass overhead.

“Poodle,” said Patrick, pointing at a big fluffy one right above us.

I snorted. “Are you blind? That is the least poodle-looking cloud I have ever seen.”

“Wow. That’s harsh, Cream Cheese, real harsh.”

“It is so
obviously
a rabbit,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I mean, COME ON.”

The hours passed. We watched the skaters ride by, their underwear in full view from where their jeans were hanging off their butts. We watched all the nannies pushing strollers with little kids and their three-pound Chihuahuas dressed in fancier coats than anything I had ever owned.

Still, even with all the distractions, my dumb head kept pulling me back to Jacob. I thought about all of the endless summer days he and I had spent together in this very park. Just hanging out. Playing cards. Falling asleep all wrapped up together. Waking up to feel his lips touching mine.

Will this ever stop hurting so much?

Patrick didn’t have a snarky retort for that one. Maybe he was finally staying out of my head like I’d told him to, or maybe he knew I wouldn’t like his answer.

Gradually, the day fell away. Fog rolled in from Sonoma Coast and the sun began its slow decent over the bay.

“I’m afraid it’s that time of day, lil’ lady,” said Patrick, stretching. He stood up and brushed off his jeans.

“Time for what? I’m not going anywhere. I’m sleeping in the park tonight.”

“Like hell you are.” He laughed. “Oh, don’t be such a party pooper.”

He grabbed my arm, whipped me up lightning quick, and I felt that familiar crackling of electricity underneath my ballet flats.

“Not this again,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

We shot up like a firecracker, and I could feel the earth falling away beneath me. I didn’t open my eyes. I’d rather not know how high up we were.

You’re never going to get better at this, Angel, if you don’t take a look around once in a while
.

Ugh, okay, fine.

I cracked an eye open. And got confirmation that yes, in fact, we
were
ten thousand feet up in the air. “Don’t you dare drop me,” I growled through clenched teeth.

Patrick zoomed the two of us right out of the park and back in the direction of Slice.

Or so I thought.

When our feet touched down an instant later, I felt sand fill my shoes, all toasty from an afternoon spent baking in the sun. Even in November, the sand stayed warm. That’s California for you.

I recognized the cliff faces—tall, majestic—and the way the surf rolled back from the shoreline and broke into perfect, parallel lines of white water. I knew these wildflowers by heart, little orange, red, and lavender petals dancing in the ocean air, and the way they stuck up in funny places like in between rocks and underneath seashells.

This was Mavericks. This was the place I’d come a thousand times growing up. One of my most favorite spots in Half Moon Bay. The beach where Jacob had taken me on so many dates, and where we’d snuck back with a sleeping bag the last night of summer. Mavericks was the place where he had chased me into the waves and kissed me under three shooting stars, one right after another. Where he’d really, truly stolen my heart.

P.S. I want it back.

Out of all the places Patrick could’ve brought me—out of all of the spots that had meant something—Mavericks had to be the one I never would’ve come back to on my own. Even though it was probably the place I needed to see most of all.

“How did you know?”

Patrick shrugged and gave me his go-to grin. “Wild guess.” He pointed at something behind me. “Turn around.”

I did. And couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Down the beach, silhouetted by the perfect California sunset—rare because of the fog—were my three most
favorite girls.

Emma, Tess, and Sadie, all jeans and sweatshirts with pillows and sleeping bags, huddled together on a big beach blanket. Next to them, a small bonfire crackled and sparkled against the orange-pink sky. Seeing them together again brought tears to my eyes. I looked at Patrick.

What is all this?

He grinned.
It’s a birthday party. For you.

I was totally speechless. I had no idea what to say or even how to begin to thank him. I even tried opening my mouth, but no words came out.

He put his finger to his lips. “They’re waiting for you. Tonight, my dear, is yours.
Enjoy
it.”

Then, before I had time to realize what was happening, Patrick leaned down. Slowly, sweetly, he brushed his lips against my cheek. My eyes closed, and for a split second I could have sworn I felt the lightest flutter inside my chest—delicate little butterfly wings beating where my heart used to be. Even though it was impossible.

Whoa
.

When I opened my eyes a few seconds later, Patrick was gone. Faded completely into the evening air, like he’d never been there at all.

Man, I really needed to learn how to do that.

I slowly began to make my way across the sand toward my friends. I wished so badly that I could run to them. Hug them. Cuddle up with them, just the four of us, and watch the gorgeous flaming sun sink beneath the waves.

As I got closer, their voices floated in, loud and clear. They were talking about me.

“I still can’t believe she’s gone,” said Tess. She hugged her knees tightly and snuggled into her blue fleece sweatshirt. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

Sadie nodded. “I don’t think I’m ever going to believe it.” She looked out at the ocean for a moment, then buried her face in her hands. “I miss her so much.”

Guys, I’m here. I’m here
.

“I can’t even look at him,” said Emma. “Every time I pass him in the hallway . . .” She shook her head. “What kind of guy doesn’t even go to his girlfriend’s own memorial service?”

I took a step back. So they hadn’t seen him hiding out in the back of the auditorium after all. I guess nobody had.

Tess’s jaw clenched. “What a jerk.”

“So, what did everyone bring?” interrupted Sadie, the bonfire blazing behind her.

Emma pulled a T-shirt out of her bag. Navy blue, long sleeves, with a little tear in the front.

It was Jacob’s. He’d left it at my house once and I’d promptly “forgotten” to return it, since it was warm and snuggly and smelled just like him. I’d fallen asleep with it nearly too many nights to count.

I should’ve thrown it in the trash when I had the chance
.

“Perfect,” said Sadie. “Tessie?”

Tess jumped up, her red hair flying, and reached into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a photo. I stepped closer to get a better look.

It was the photo I’d had taped up in my locker at school, the one of me and Jacob at the fall carnival. He had taken it when we’d reached the top of the Twister, the biggest, best roller coaster in town, just a few seconds before we went over the first giant drop. In the picture my eyes are closed and I’m screaming-laughing. He’s kissing my cheek. By far my favorite picture of the two of us in existence.

I bet his new girlfriend’s got one just like it up in her locker by now
.

“Now me,” said Sadie. She leaned over Emma and grabbed her tote—the L.L. Bean one with her initials sewn on the front: STR, for Sadie Taylor Russo.

Always a star, ever since you were born.

Sadie reached in and pulled out a box that I instantly recognized, because it had been mine. It was an old cigar box, worn around the edges and covered with flower cut-outs that I had pasted on over the years. She lifted the lid and pulled out a red leather journal, tied with a delicate, lacy black ribbon.

Oh. My. GOD.

I collapsed in the sand next to my friends, mortified.

“Seriously, guys? You’re seriously doing this to me?”

It was the journal I’d kept the whole time Jacob and I had been dating. Full of bad poetry and cheesy love letters I’d written to him but never sent—because a) it would’ve been way too embarrassing and b) they weren’t really for him, they were for me.

And because then he would’ve had physical proof that I am a Giant Dork
.

I groaned and turned the brightest shade of red imaginable. I never wanted to see that stupid journal again.

“Will you ladies allow me to do the honors?” asked Sadie.

Oh, wow, she’s really going to do it. She’s really going to read it!

I covered my ears, preparing to be humiliated like never before.

“Go for it,” said Emma, squeezing Tess’s hand.

Sadie carefully untied the ribbon and tucked it into her hoodie pocket. Then she stood up and walked over to the bonfire. She flipped the book open and smiled.

“Brie,” she said. “This is for you.”

With that, she starting tearing the thing into shreds.

My mouth dropped open as I watched her send page after page after page into the bonfire, sparks shooting and hissing into the evening sky as the flames engulfed my words, my wishes, my
most secret thoughts
about the boy I’d loved.

It was beautiful. Magical. And for the very first time since my death, something started to bend and shift. I felt lighter. Calmer.

And little by little, I began to feel free.

“Yeah!” cried Emma. She skipped to the edge of the fire, balled up Jacob’s T-shirt, and threw it in. “Burn, baby, burn!” she yelled, waving her arms in the air.

I burst into laughter as I watched Jacob’s shirt writhing and twisting in the intense heat of the flames.

Finally, Tess held up the photo of Jacob and me. She kissed my face, took a deep breath, then ripped the picture in half. She tore it once. Then twice. Then a third time, until all that remained of my once perfect memory was a pile of tiny, furious pieces. She lifted her hands up and I watched in awe as the chilly autumn breeze reached right in and sent them scattering—tiny bits of memory and music and color and time swirling all around us.

The four of us stared as the shreds of paper began to burn and glow against the violet, perfect sky—watching as they caught fire and floated down to earth like falling stars.

“Happy Sweet Sixteen, Eags,” whispered Tess.

“We miss you,” said Emma, her voice breaking. “So much.”

“We love you, Brie!” Sadie cried at the top of her lungs.

An overwhelming ache—but a good ache this time—soared through my chest. I was so lucky to have had them. No, I was more than lucky. I was the
luckiest
.

I love you too.

Then the three of them linked arms. Walked down to the water’s edge. And as the last rays of sunlight sank beneath the horizon—miles and miles out to sea—my best friends blew me kisses, wiped away their tears, and finally said good-bye.