The Catastrophic History of You And Me

by Jess Rothenberg

  I stepped back, liquid hot anger beginning to bubble up inside me. “What’s your deal? Why do you care about their feelings all of a sudden?” I laughed. “Don’t tell me—are you in love with Sadie now too or something?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Why can’t you just let things happen the way they’re going to happen?”

  “Because I don’t feel like it,” I shot back. “Because I’m gone and they’re not. Because it’s not fair, and she doesn’t deserve him, okay? He was mine.” My voice wavered and I was suddenly on the edge of tears. “He was mine. Not hers.”

  “How can you care so much about two people who never even deserved you in the first place?” Patrick said, glaring. “Why can’t you get over it and move on? He hurt you. She hurt you. Why can’t you see it?” He pushed his sleeves up, revealing even more of his scar. I cringed. He had truly been through something terrible on earth.

  But what?

  “He took your heart in his hands . . .” Patrick’s voice started to grow sad. “He took your sweet, funny, perfect heart . . . and he destroyed it. Why do you keep letting him do it to you over and over again?”

  There was only one answer. It was plain and it was simple, but it was all I had.

  “Because I loved him,” I said, angry tears beginning to spill down my cheeks. “And he loved me. I know he did. I know it.” A big clap of thunder crashed in the distance, and the wind had started to pick up.

  I didn’t budge.

  “Love?” he scoffed. “You think that was love?”

  “Maybe if you’d ever been in love,” I said, “maybe then you would know what it feels like to lose your soul mate.” I paused. “To lose both of them.”

  Patrick’s eyes grew darker than I’d ever seen them.

  “Angel,” he whispered. “Don’t talk about something you don’t understand.”

  That was all I could take. I felt tiny licks of flame break out across my toes, travel up my spine, and shoot across my arms and back and chest. I could feel myself beginning to burn.

  “Get away from me,” I said. “Stay away from me.”

  He didn’t bother answering me out loud.

  Whatever you want.

  And then he was gone.

  CHAPTER 28

  don’t dream it’s over

  It took me hitting Cabrillo Drive to realize I had just about walked myself home. The fight with Patrick had left me anxious and out of it, and I hadn’t bothered paying attention to street names until I looked up and saw my dad’s BMW parked in our driveway, just a couple of blocks down. I kicked the gravel beneath my feet as I walked.

  I’m right. I’m right and Patrick’s wrong. What the hell does he know? He’s never been through something like this.

  I pulled Sadie’s phone out of my pocket. She’d gotten off easy so far, but the world was about to discover I still had a few tricks hidden up my sleeve, thank you very much. I pushed a few buttons and within seconds, had opened up her Facebook page.

  Put it back, I could imagine Patrick chastising me. Don’t even think about it, String Cheese.

  I swatted him out of my mind like an annoying mosquito and fiddled around Sadie’s profile. She hadn’t updated her status in almost a month, which seemed pretty extreme for her. I clicked into her messages to see if there might be anything worth spying on, but was shocked to find her in-box empty. Hard to believe, considering the girl had over a thousand friends.

  She must have deleted the evidence.

  What are you hiding, Sadie?

  Even if the last few months had caused her social stock to plummet, I had a feeling there were still a ton of people at PCH who’d be very interested to hear what Sadie Russo had been up to lately.

  “Mustn’t keep your adoring public waiting,” I said to her photo. Then I typed in the Most Perfect Status Update Ever.

  The rumors are true.

  SR + JF = 4evr

  p.s. brie who?

  “And that, as they say, is that.”

  I smiled, logged out, and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Mission accomplished. Then I walked toward our back porch and stole a glance at the Brenners’ house, with its yellow daffodils and white picket fence. I scowled, disgusted by the fakeness of it all. Wondered if, by now, Mr. Brenner had found out the truth about my dad.

  Or if Mom had.

  The idea of Dad with Sarah Brenner still made me feel sick to my stomach, and like my whole life had been a lie. Why couldn’t Jack and I have just been born to a nice, normal family without so much drama? I sighed.

  Maybe in my next life.

  I thought for a second about reincarnation, and what I’d want to come back as, if there was such a thing. A dolphin, maybe. Or a koala bear. But, seriously, who’d even want to come back a second time? Life was too much trouble. Too painful. I didn’t need to do it all over again with a whole new set of problems. Once had been plenty.

  But then my thoughts turned to Jacob, and I couldn’t help thinking of what he might come back as.

  A pig.

  No, pigs were too cute for him. Maybe a worm. Or a rat.

  Ooh, definitely a rat.

  And Sadie? That one was obvious. She’d be a snake. A big, hideous, slimy, rat snake. The thought of Sadie slithering around on her stomach almost made me laugh out loud, a momentary distraction from the real thing that had been bothering me.

  Whether or not I wanted to admit it—and I didn’t—I couldn’t shake the feeling that Patrick might’ve been a little bit right about me taking things too far.

  Or a lot, I imagined him saying.

  “Oh, shut up,” I grumbled. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The way I saw it, both of them had gotten off easy.

  Take Jacob, for example. I was sure there had to be a perfectly good community college somewhere that would want him on its track team. And as for Sadie—I had no doubt that she’d still get into Juilliard, and she’d still make it to Broadway, given all the awesome practice she’d had in being a complete and total liar.

  Because everyone knows lying and acting are basically the same thing.

  I stopped at the edge of my driveway, suddenly realizing I had an even bigger problem to deal with.

  Or, rather, a question.

  What now?

  Patrick was right. My work here was done. I’d succeeded in giving Jacob a taste of his own evil medicine.

  But now I wasn’t sure what to do with me.

  Should I stick around haunting my friends and family until they eventually joined me on the other side? Should I, like, volunteer my services as a Guardian Teen-Angel and watch over Mom and Jack to make sure their lives went as smoothly as possible? To be honest, that didn’t seem like the best idea, since Guarding-Without-Ever-Actually-Being-Able-to-Do-Anything might get old kinda fast.

  For a second, my mind flashed back to that afternoon a couple of summers ago—the day my friends and I had found our charm necklaces in the city. How the store had just seemed to appear out of thin air, almost like it had been waiting for us, and us alone.

  Rabbit Hole.

  Named for the spot where Alice had slipped and fallen down into her own private Wonderland. I visualized the store. The dark, weathered floorboards. The smell of jasmine incense. The warm, cozy glow of paper lanterns against light yellow walls. As all of the details floated back, I realized my charm necklace had turned uncomfortably warm against my skin. I slipped a few fingers between my neck and the chain, trying to let things cool off for a moment.

  And that’s when it hit me.

  Her own private Wonderland.

  I looked to the early evening sky. Then north, toward San Francisco.

  My rabbit hole.

  That was where I could disappear. Or at least burrow in and lay low until I figured out what to do with the rest of my life.

  Er, death.

  A sudden bark and a pair of white, spotted paws pushed me right out of my head and onto the front lawn.

  “Hamloaf!” />
  He jumped all over me and licked my face like I was the world’s biggest Beggin’ Strip.

  “Stop!” I yelled. “Get down, get down!”

  He snorted and bayed happily, bounding across the yard in big happy circles, his ears flying behind him. Finally, he got tired of running and flopped down next to me on the itchy grass, his tail wagging like crazy.

  “Easy boy, easy.” I scratched his head and tickled the soft fur right under his neck until he relaxed a bit.

  He put his paw on my chest and covered me with another round of slobbery kisses.

  “I guess you’re glad to see me, huh?” I sat up and looked around the yard. “But what are you doing outside by yourself? Where’s Mom? Where’s Jack?”

  At the sound of my brother’s name, Hamloaf started to whine, short little high-pitched bursts engineered for the sole purpose of melting a person’s heart. He jumped up and trotted over to his doggy door. Then he turned back and barked once, inviting me to follow.

  “Sorry, pal.” I shook my head. “You know as well as I do that I can’t go in there.”

  He sneezed.

  “Tell me about it.”

  He pranced back over to me and started rolling around in the grass, sounding more like a hyena than a dog. I walked up to the house and peeked in through the back windows.

  It was like a hurricane had blown through the place.

  Dishes were piled up all over the kitchen. Magazines and old newspapers were strewn about. The lights were low, and I noticed a few containers of old Chinese takeout sitting on the counter.

  “Whoa,” I said, looking at Ham. “What happened?” No way would Mom have let the house get so messy. No way. I ran quickly to the garage and peeked in through the small circular window. Mom’s car was gone. I could tell by the fading sunlight that it was getting close to dinnertime, and she definitely should’ve been home by now. I looked again to make sure my eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on me.

  No Subaru.

  I began to worry. If Mom wasn’t here, then Jack wasn’t here. I scanned the list of possibilities. Maybe they were visiting my grandparents out in Vancouver. Maybe they’d gone to stay with my aunt and uncle in Portland. But it wasn’t spring break yet, was it? And if it was, wouldn’t they have taken Hamloaf? We always took Hamloaf on spring break. Always.

  Hamloaf bounded over and sat down a few feet away, watching me.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked him again. “Where’s Jack?” Once again, at the sound of Jack’s name, he started barking his head off.

  “Okay, okay!” I threw my hands over my ears. “Bad subject, I get it!”

  He sat down and rested his head in his paws. His eyes told me exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

  Gone. They’re gone.

  “She knows,” I whispered. “Mom totally caught him.”

  I glared at the house. This was all Dad’s fault. Everything. He was the one who’d broken up my family. He was the one who’d driven Mom and Jack away. He was a monster for ruining what we’d had.

  And I’d never forgive him for it.

  My eyes settled on a rock a few feet away. Not too big, not too small. Hamloaf followed my line of vision and dove for it, like it was a stick or a tennis ball, but I shooed him away.

  “Quit it! This isn’t a toy!”

  He backed off, but I could tell he still thought we were playing a game.

  Focus. Control.

  I visualized my fingers wrapping around the rock’s cool, smooth surface. Slowly, I reached down, telling myself to keep calm. Keep steady. I sent my brain the simplest message I could think of.

  Pick it up.

  And suddenly, I did.

  I rolled it back and forth in the palm of my hand for a moment. Felt its smooth ridges and rough patches and wondered how something so small could possibly feel so heavy. Then I wound up, pulled my arm back, and pitched the rock straight at our house.

  The world seemed to slow down as it flew through the air and finally made contact with the big back window. I heard the sound of broken glass before I saw the window crack open and shatter down onto the deck.

  Dad’s startled voice echoed from inside. “What the hell? Hey! Who’s out there?”

  The last thing I wanted was to see him. He needed to stay a monster in my mind. If he looked like Dad—the dad I remembered and loved—I’m not sure I would’ve had the strength to run. So I took off, racing around the side of the house just as fast as my dead legs would carry me. “I hate you!” I cried. “I hate you!”

  It wasn’t until my ballet flats hit sand a minute or two later and I felt the cool breeze rushing through my hair that I finally allowed myself to stop and catch my breath. I kneeled down on the beach and buried my face in my hands as the tears began to fall. Squeezed my eyes shut and felt the world caving in on me all over again. This time, I was really, truly, utterly alone.

  Mom and Jack are gone. My dad is a monster. Our family is dead.

  But then I heard a sneeze. I felt a warm, wet nose press against my cheek. And when I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn’t alone.

  Not really.

  Because Hamloaf had followed me.

  CHAPTER 29

  in the arms of an angel

  “You can’t stay here, you silly dog,” I scolded him as the sun began to set. “You’ve got to go back to Dad. You’ve got to go home.” He tilted his head to the side and I knew he was thinking the same thing as me.

  What home?

  He had a point. But how was this going to work? If the world saw a dog wandering down the highway all by himself, it wouldn’t be long before somebody tried to pick him up—either to take him to the pound or (more likely) adopt him as their own. I mean, how could they not? He was ridiculously cute.

  “They’d probably change your name to something awful like Buster or Sparky.” I sniffled. “I don’t think so.”

  He yawned, super-wide, then rolled over onto his belly.

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  We stayed there together for a good while, watching the tide come in and the stars wake up one by one. I told Hamloaf stories about where I’d been and what I’d seen. About Patrick, and Crossword Lady, and jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge—twice, no less—and how I’d rather die all over again than ever eat another slice of pizza.

  He rested his soft, sweet head in my lap and sighed, like old times.

  I knew how he felt.

  With Hamloaf lying beside me, it was almost easy to pretend that we were just a girl and her dog—instead of some lost soul and a runaway canine. I couldn’t help wishing that the D&G had had a chapter on zooming with dogs. Probably not the best idea, when it came right down to it.

  I looked at him and kissed his nose. “Just what I need. Someone calling the authorities over an Unidentified Flying Hound.” He snuggled in closer and I dared to shut my eyes, only for a second. The light had almost faded to nothing. It felt so, so good to rest.

  But then, out of nowhere, tiny pinpricks began to shoot across my skin, tickling my arms. My internal warning system went off on high alert, and I sat up. Hamloaf sniffed the air, his tail thumping against the sand.

  Thump. Thump-thump.

  “Shhh.” I looked around but couldn’t see much of anything. I began to feel afraid. What the hell was I doing out here in the dark by myself? “Come here, boy.” I wrapped my arms around Hamloaf. He wasn’t exactly German shepherd material, but hopefully if anyone was out there, they wouldn’t know the difference. “Growl or something, will you?” I whispered.

  He scratched his ear and snorted.

  Oh yeah, that’ll scare them.

  A single yellow light flickered in front of me, making me jump. I caught my breath and watched as it burned out a second later. But then another one lit up a few inches from my shoulder, suspended in midair.

  “Wha?”

  There were only one or two at first. But soon there was another. And then another. I watched in amazement as the air began to swarm with
them—tiny twinkling lights, dancing around our heads.

  Fireflies.

  Soon they were impossible to count. Hundreds and hundreds of them. I’d never seen anything like it. Not in real life, since fireflies were super-rare in California. Not even in my dreams. This was amazing.

  No, this was magic.

  The two of us stared, mesmerized, as they slowly began to drift up the beach. Heading north. Lighting the way to San Francisco.

  “It’s a sign,” I whispered. “It has to be a sign.” I could feel their delicate wing-beats pulsing through the air, gently cooling the chain of my necklace. Saw the traces of light they left behind each time they switched themselves on and off, drenching the coastline in a soft, friendly glow.

  Hamloaf jumped up and shook himself off, chasing them to the edge of the water.

  “Wait, boy! Wait for me!”

  I took off after him, laughing as my feet splashed down in the cool, luminous ocean. We danced in the sparkles, following them as they migrated up the twinkling shoreline. For the first time in ages, a long-forgotten feeling wandered its way back into my chest.

  Hope.

  The sense that anything was still possible.

  So I gathered Hamloaf in my arms, however clumsily, and whispered in his ears to hold still. Then I focused my mind on Rabbit Hole—its big picture window with blue tinted glass and white paper lanterns strung up across the ceiling. I imagined the flickering candles, and sentences scrolled over the walls in elegant black ink—lines from the best children’s storybooks.

  Hamloaf whined, so I squeezed him even closer to my chest. He wasn’t getting away from me now. I gave him the only advice I could.

  “Hold on, Ham. Hold on tight.”

  Then we were whirling and swirling through a roller coaster of ocean and sand and fog and a misty cloud of lightning bugs so thick I almost couldn’t breathe. I felt my feet leave the ground and heard Hamloaf start to howl like crazy as we zoomed into the air and toward the heart of downtown San Francisco.