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.
CHAPTER 19
every breath you take
The bonfire burned long into the night. I watched the stars twinkle and fade while the others slept, and felt a strange sort of peace come over me.
I think I’m ready.
Ready for what?
To go back to Slice. To move on.
I wish it were that easy, Angel.
A little before dawn, I leaned down and tried to squeeze Sadie’s hand. My fingers went right through hers, but to my surprise, her eyes fluttered. She sat up. Stretched. Leaned over and checked her phone. Then she rubbed her eyes, threw on an extra sweatshirt, and climbed quickly, quietly out of her sleeping bag.
Careful not to wake Emma and Tess, Sadie slipped on her Converse sneakers and began to walk.
I walked with her.
We went north on the beach for a while, until we finally rounded the dunes. She took a familiar path toward the place where all the picnic tables were set up. A spot we’d all been to a million times, where kids from school would get together for barbeques and beach volleyball on holiday weekends and during the summer.
Sadie chose a table and sat down, crossing her legs. I sat down next to her on the bench. Even in all of her sleepiness, she was so beautiful. Long, curly dark hair. Tan, perfect skin. The brownest, warmest eyes. Full of spark. Full of life.
I wish you could see me. I wish you knew I was here.
Together, Sadie and I watched as the soft glow of morning began to spill out across the sky in sleepy pastels—a symphony of violets and blues and ballerina pinks. A perfect sunrise. Emma and Tess would be sorry they’d missed it. Lazies. Those two could probably sleep forever if you�
�d let them.
“It’s so beautiful,” Sadie said, breaking the silence.
And then she began to weep.
“Sadie?” I scooted closer as she began to sob and shake in a way I’d never seen before.
“Oh, sweetie.” A lump rose up in my throat. “Don’t cry. I’m right here.”
“Brie.” Her voice was full of pain. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
It was then that I realized just how hard my death had been on her. How hard it had been on all of them. It was one thing to leave. But to be left. That had to be even worse.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, shhh, don’t be sorry,” I whispered, trying to rub her back. “It’s not your fault, Sadie. Please don’t cry.” I wrapped my arms around her—even if she couldn’t feel me—as hot tears ran down her cheeks and slipped through the cracks of the old wooden table.
It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.
Maybe it was because my eyes were closed. Or maybe it was because she was crying so loudly. Either way, I never noticed the person coming up over the dunes. I never heard the sound of footsteps in the sand.
“Sadie?”
That voice.
I turned and felt her break from my embrace. Heard her cry out as she began to sob even louder. And then I watched, in devastating slow motion, as my best friend in the whole, wide, wondrous world ran straight into Jacob Fischer’s outstretched arms.
CHAPTER 20
what becomes of the broken hearted?
My soul had gone totally numb.
It’s her. It’s Sadie.
“No,” I whispered, collapsing onto my knees as I watched my first love take my best friend’s hands in his own. I’m not sure how long he held her, and I’m not sure when they finally broke apart so he could walk back to his car and she could sneak back to Emma and Tess. I’m not even sure how long it took for Patrick to find me there, curled into a ball, my eyes locked on the horizon ten miles out to sea. Time didn’t matter anymore.
Because I was in hell.
“Try not to think about it, Angel,” Patrick said when he finally gathered me up like it was nothing, and carried me back to Slice.
All I could see were Sadie’s arms wrapped around Jacob’s. Her eyes squeezed shut so tightly. His hands resting on her lower back. It made sense. They’d been close friends since we were little. She’d probably been in love with him the whole entire time. And he with her.
No. Stop it. You belong to ME. Both of you.
It’s a strange thing to find yourself suddenly obsessing over every single moment you’ve ever spent with your best friend. Replaying the millions of sleep-overs, the giggle-fests, the girl talk, the boy talk, the boob talk (or lack-of-boob talk), the sex talk, the blowout fights, the sobbing makeups, the weekend bike rides, the birthday hugs, the Britney sing-alongs, the lunchtime texts, the after-school shopping trips, the four-hour phone calls about Everything and Nothing all at once.
All of the memories, still just as familiar. Just as meaningful. Except for the fact that none of it meant what you thought it meant. That actually the whole thing was one big Capital L. Capital I. Capital E.
I mean everything. The good stuff; the bad stuff; the in-between stuff; the stuff you’d never even tell your sister (if you actually had a sister). And even though you’re still desperate to believe that deep down, nothing could ever, EVER come between you and your BFF, now you’ve got to face the reality that the whole entire friendship—the whole freaking thing—was one big joke.
The worst part?
The joke was on you.
This was Sadie. This was my best friend. My oldest friend. The friend who had known me longer and better and closer than anyone, ever. She knew me backward and forward and upside down and practically better than I knew myself. She was the friend I’d cried to when my parakeet Crackers flew away and never came back. The friend who used to stretch out with me on my roof and wish upon stars hours after my parents had gone to bed. The friend I’d giggled with all night long once when we’d made the unfortunate (um, fortunate?) discovery that, whoa, her parents had a subscription to the Playboy Channel. She was the friend who’d taught me one million card tricks, and had come with me to my grandma Rita’s funeral, and always had my back no matter what.
Sadie was the one I’d called the second I’d flown through my front door and up the stairs to my bedroom that night last summer: August 11, 2010. My fifty-fifth-to-last night on earth, when my heart was still pounding and my cheeks were still warm and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop shaking. In a good way.
The night I lost my virginity.
Sadie answered the phone and guessed it right away, without me even having to say a word.
“You did it, didn’t you?” she whispered.
“Maybe.” I giggled. “Or maybe not.”
“Ohmigod you DID. How was it? Holy shit, Brie, how was it?”
His hands. Ohmigod his hands all over me. His kisses. Sweet and light and deep and reckless and perfect.
“That good, huh?” she said, sounding impressed.
I let out a crazy laugh, but slapped my hands over my mouth, in case my mom or dad or Jack happened to be listening at my bedroom door.
“Did it hurt?”
Holy GOD, yes.
“Not really.”
“You little slut, I don’t believe you!”
“Well, maybe a little.”
“How much is a little?”
“Sadie!” I screamed. “A LOT, okay? Satisfied?”
“Oh my god.” I could hear her shaking her head at me on the other end of the phone line. “I am insanely jealous of you right now.”
No kidding. So jealous, you decided to steal him away from me.
I glanced up at my reflection in my bedroom mirror to see if I looked any different. My cheeks were warm and rosy. My skin was buzzing. Would people be able to tell?
“Did he say it?” she asked.
“Did he say what?”
“Come on, Brie, what do you think?”
His hands, running through my hair. His eyes, looking too deeply into mine to be real. His words, burning into me.
I love you.
He’d said it. He’d said it and he’d meant it.
Hadn’t he?
“Hello?”
I fell back onto my bed, smiling through the phone. “Yes. Yes, he said it.”
She didn’t speak for a second and I could guess why. For the first time ever, something epic was happening to me before her. In all the time we’d been best friends, Sadie had always gone through all the big milestones first. She’d lost her first tooth before me. She’d learned to ride her bike before me. She’d gotten her period a whole year before me, in seventh grade. And though neither of us had ever needed to say it, we’d both known Sadie would be the first to fall in love.
Except she wasn’t. Not this time. Because this time, I had won. I was first. For once, I’d gotten there before Sadie Russo.
For once.
We spent the next hour chattering and giggling and going over ev-e-ry single detail—even though I had a seven a.m. diving practice the next day. But I didn’t care. They could’ve made me swim a million laps across ten Olympic-size pools and I’d still have that same dumb smile on my face all day long.
Why? Because when you’re in love, the world is brighter. Sunnier. The air smells flowerier, and your hair is silkier, and suddenly you find yourself smiling at babies and strangers and old couples walking down the beach holding hands. You smile because now you’re in on one of life’s Greatest Secrets Ever. You’ve graduated to the Big Time, Baby. You’re officially in the Cool Kids Club. And suddenly, now when people look at you, they can’t help noticing that something’s different.
“Did you change your hair?”
Nope.
“New clothes?”
Not even.
“Get contacts?”
Try again.
You grin at them and they stil
l can’t quite put their finger on it. And when you walk away, they secretly wonder to themselves when you got so beautiful.
It must have been love, but it’s over now.
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow.
Hot tears rolled down my face, burning my skin. Uncontrollable. Unstoppable.
“Shh,” whispered Patrick. “I’m here, Angel. I’m here.”
How could they? How could they do this to me?
The ache in my chest was back—the wound fresh and raw and heavy.
Turns out, hell’s not so much a burning, scalding pit of fire and misery. It’s actually much, much worse than that. Hell is when the people you love the most reach right into your soul and rip it out of you. And they do it because they can.
I felt my chest tighten and constrict.
How long has this been going on?
A week? A month? Maybe longer?
I felt an earthquake raging inside my skull, and sirens blaring behind my eyes. I beat the sand with my fists and cried out, but my words were lost against the sound of hungry gulls and the early-morning Pacific. Also, there was sand stuck in between my toes. I really hate that.
Suddenly, everything made sense. Every weird look and awkward silence Jacob and I had ever shared. Every time he’d pulled away when I’d reached for his hand or snuck my hand into his jeans back pocket. I knew then that I’d been right. I had felt something changing between us in the weeks before my death—slow and steady—but just hadn’t wanted to admit it. A distance had been brewing, all chilly and gray. I’d chosen to sit and watch the storm clouds gather instead of running for cover at the first hint of rain. And I had paid the price for waiting. Because the storm became a hurricane.
My gut had been trying to clue me in all along. I wasn’t paranoid and I wasn’t crazy. Jacob had lied to me. Sadie had lied to me. She had listened and waited and watched for months and months as I’d fallen for him. She had collected my secrets, one by one, so she could use them against me later.
“It hurts,” I whispered. “It hurts so bad.”
Shhh, I’ve got you, Patrick said, his voice soft.
The Catastrophic History of You And Me Page 11