The Catastrophic History of You And Me

by Jess Rothenberg

  “God!” I reached out and grabbed his jacket, pulling him back. “Do not joke about that!”

  “Please.” He grinned. “Call me Patrick.”

  I shook my head and groaned. “Man, I’m starting to think my little brother is more mature than you. And he’s eight.”

  “Eight’s better than I usually get. So come on, are you ready yet?”

  I ignored him. I didn’t care how cute he was, or how much his stupid eyes sparkled in the stupid sunlight. There was no way, no way in heaven or in hell or in whatever this place was, that I was jumping off this bridge.

  No freaking WAY.

  “How the bajeezus did we get up here anyway?” I asked, looking for another way down.

  “We zoomed.”

  “Zoomed?” I glared at him. “What are we in, like, a Pixar movie?”

  “Okay, I think somebody officially watched way too much Disney as a child.”

  “There’s no such thing as too much Disney,” I muttered, trying not to pass out or throw up or some combination of the two. Oh, this was bad. My teeth began to chatter. I could hear and feel the rumbling of the bridge vibrating beneath me.

  All grating metal and giant twisting suspension cables and echoes of the deep, scary ocean from somewhere incredibly far below. I couldn’t even comprehend how high up we were. Diving off a ten-meter platform at after-school practice was one thing, but this dive wasn’t even in the same zip code.

  Or the same solar system.

  I kneeled down and told myself to stay calm. Champion diver or not, my head swirled as I pictured myself slipping, falling, and smashing into the San Francisco Bay at g-force speed, and then straight into the jaws of a great white shark.

  “You know,” I grumbled, “I really wish you’d explained this whole bridge-jumping thing before you dragged me up here. Because I definitely wouldn’t have come.”

  “Well,” said Patrick, “I wish you had taken a look at chapter six in the D and G. And chapter twelve, ‘Zoom Like You Mean It.’ It’s all there, Cheeto, in perfect black and white. Maybe somebody should’ve done her homework.”

  “Gee, thanks, Dad.” I didn’t appreciate the lecture. Even if, deep down, I kind of knew he was right. Maybe if I hadn’t ignored the stupid Dumb & Dumber handbook at Slice, I would have found a way to get in touch with someone with actual authority. A person who would listen to me and let me explain that there had been a terrible mistake.

  I’m not supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to die. Not yet. Not this way.

  Patrick laughed loudly. “Remember when I told you there was going to be a test?” He stood up and held out his arms. “Well, surprise! This is it.” Then he saw the panic in my face. “Don’t worry. It’s scary the first time, I know, but it gets easier. And soon . . .” His eyes sparkled. “Soon it starts to get fun.”

  “I can’t do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

  “Crede quod habes, et habes.”

  “What language are you speaking, Nerd?”

  He smiled. “Latin. ‘Believe that you have it, and you do.’”

  His voice was light. Playful. As usual, not helping.

  “On ten.”

  “Okay, ten. You’re a funny kid, Aubrie Eagan.”

  “It’s Brie.”

  “One . . . Two . . . Three . . .”

  “Wait, wait, wait, don’t count so fast—”

  “Four.”

  “No seriously, stop—”

  “Five . . .”

  “I said I’m not—” My knees started to go weak and my vision turned that horrible shade of sickly green—the green that means you’re going to faint in about two seconds. The sounds of the ocean crashing below mixed with the roar of the traffic made my stomach turn.

  “Hey, you all right?” Patrick leaned down next to me. “You seem a little, um, pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied, gripping the steel with all my might, desperate to hang on. “Never been better.” I tried to brush the hair out of my face. Not that it helped much, the way the wind was howling up here. We may as well have been on the top of Mount Everest. “So, what, is this like your perfect vision of heaven or something?”

  He met my eyes. “It is now.”

  I felt myself blush, despite being sick with fear. Didn’t have a clue what to say back, and decided to go with the lamest thing ever.

  “So do you, uh . . . come up here often?”

  Oh my GOD I did not just say that. Who SAYS that?

  “I come up here whenever I need to think, or clear my head.” He paused. “Or whenever all the waiting starts to get to me.”

  “Waiting? What are you waiting for?”

  He hesitated for a moment, and looked out over the mountains. “A friend. I guess I’m waiting for an old friend.”

  The sunlight shifted again, casting a streak of light across his left wrist. For a second, I couldn’t help staring at his scar. I’d never quite noticed just how intense it was, since his jacket tended to cover it. But with the way the light had fallen—and the way his sleeves were pushed up the tiniest bit—I could finally get a better look. For the first time, I saw how jagged and deep the scar really was. Almost like he’d been slashed with a piece of broken glass.

  Whatever he had been through, it couldn’t have been good.

  I realized right then, that in all of his knowing about me, I didn’t know a whole lot about him. Where he’d come from. Who he’d been. Even, though it made me queasy to think about it, how his life had ended.

  Patrick caught me staring. Tugged a little at his jacket and pulled the sleeves down as much as he could.

  “What happened to you?” As soon as the words were off my tongue, I realized I should’ve kept my question to myself.

  “Bike accident,” he said. “Was driving a little too fast. No big deal.”

  Just like Dad always said. Motorcycles are SO DANGEROUS.

  I glanced down at my feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m over it. It was a long time ago.”

  A gust of wind suddenly came barreling out of nowhere, catching me off guard. I gasped a little as it threw me, and I scrambled to hold on.

  Except there was nothing to hold on to.

  “Okay, I’ve officially changed my mind,” I announced. “I think I’ll take a rain check on this whole revenge thing. We’ve got plenty of time to get back at ol’ What’s-his-name. Why rush a good thing?” Slowly, carefully, I leaned back on the metal grating, trying to relax and think of good, happy things like Cocoa Puffs. Saturday mornings. Being Alive. “So yeah, I take it back. I don’t want to do this. Not today. I’d like to go back to Slice, please.”

  “I hate to say it,” Patrick shouted over the wind, “but there’s kind of a problem.” He scooted over so he was sitting next to me.

  “What do you mean, kind of a problem?” I felt the bridge lurch beneath me.

  Breathe, Brie. Just breathe.

  “The thing is, you’re not going to like it very much.”

  “Say it.”

  “Well . . .”

  “Say it.”

  “There’s sort of, um, only one way down.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.

  “Oh, right! Has anyone ever told you that you are hilarious?”

  He wasn’t smiling. “The unfortunate thing is,” he said with a guilty voice, “I’m not joking.”

  I stopped laughing. “Wait. Excuse me?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t fight it.”

  “I’ll fight you.”

  “Take my hand.” He reached over and tried to grab mine.

  “No!”

  “Brie, you have to.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’re going to be chilling up here for a very long time. Anyway, you know you want to show that ex-boyfriend a thing or two. And frankly . . .” He grinned. “So do I.”

  “No, no, no, I totally do, definitely. Just
not yet,” I pleaded with him. If I’d had a heart, it would’ve been pounding out of control in my chest. “I can’t,” I said. “I don’t mean, like, never. Just not today.” I hoped he could hear the panic in my voice. “Patrick, please. Just zoom us off of here or whatever. Take me back to Slice.”

  BOOM–CRASH–HISS! the ocean rang out below.

  “Sorry, Cheesecake.” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t work that way. You’d already know this if you’d read your D and G. And anyway, I don’t buy your excuses.”

  “Oh? And why is that?” I snapped.

  Don’t mess with me, Angel Boy, I will destroy you.

  “You’re afraid.” He nodded toward the edge. “But it’s time to leave the nest, little bird. It’s time to take the plunge.”

  Oh my god he’s serious.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole way.” He grinned. “You fall, I fall.”

  I took a step away from him. “Do not come near me.”

  “Take my hand.”

  “Patrick, I mean it.”

  His eyes burned into mine. “Take my hand.”

  Before I could argue, he snapped me into his arms, locking me in.

  “No! Stop it!”

  “Open your eyes,” he whispered from behind me.

  I shook my head and tried to struggle out of his arms.

  “Come on. You really shouldn’t miss this.”

  “Your mom really shouldn’t miss this.” I was running out of witty comebacks. Not that I ever had any to begin with.

  “Toes to the edge.”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  “A little late for that, Angel.” His lips were against my ear. “Look down.” I tried to struggle, but it didn’t matter. He was way too strong. I cried out and forced myself to look.

  Oh, biggest mistake ever.

  There was nothing but air. Nothing but the giant, deadly, freezing, bottomless San Francisco Bay, ready to swallow me up and shatter me into a thousand pieces. Oh god, we were so, so much higher than I thought.

  Two inches.

  I pushed back against him. “No, no, no, no, NO.”

  One inch.

  I fought.

  Half an inch.

  I wanted to wake up. I wanted to wake up right the eff now. The only problem with that scenario? This was no nightmare. Waking up was not an option.

  I felt my ballet flats slip a little on the metal grating. I felt the wind kiss my cheek.

  “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

  “Chedster?”

  “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 tsked. “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

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