The Catastrophic History of You And Me

by Jess Rothenberg

  Time slowed down like an old silent movie, and everything around me melted away. And in that moment, only one thought lingered in my mind.

  I wish Patrick were here.

  PART 4

  bargaining

  CHAPTER 30

  california dreamin’

  The city was dark and full of shadows. There were no people. There was no pulse. Almost like someone had come through with a giant vacuum cleaner and sucked the life right out.

  We didn’t land exactly where I’d intended—more Fisherman’s Wharf than the Haight. Not that it really mattered. All the streets were empty. All the buildings were boarded up. Not a breath or a soul to be found.

  I looped and zigzagged us through the streets, sometimes turning left and sometimes turning right. Twisted trees cast strange shadows on the pavement, and I shivered, wondering how long it would take for the sun to come up. But the farther we walked, the darker the sky seemed to become. And the more brilliantly the stars above us seemed to burn.

  Eventually, I pulled out Sadie’s iPhone to check and see what time it was, but found that the screen had gone black. “Sucky battery.” I tossed the phone into a nearby trash can, where it landed with clang. The sound made Hamloaf growl, and for a second I felt afraid, like maybe we’d walked right into a Dawn of the Dead scenario, where the girl and her dog end up as some zombie dude’s dinner.

  “There’s no place like home,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, theresnoplacelikeHOME.”

  I even clicked my ballet flats together for a little added effect, in case it helped. But when I cracked my eyes open again, it was pretty clear Dorothy’s old trick wasn’t going to work for us.

  I imagined Patrick rolling his eyes. All like, Nice try, Cheese Brain.

  Even Hamloaf snorted at me like I was some kind of idiot.

  “Oh, yeah?” I said. “Got any better ideas?”

  We continued to hike through the streets, making our way from the Wharf to Cow Hollow to North Beach, where my family used to come for Italian food. I kept hoping maybe I’d seen them—that maybe they’d suddenly show up in Dad’s car with the windows rolled down, ready to take the two of us home.

  But who was I kidding? It was just me. Just Ham. Just the full moon and a sky maxed out on stars.

  Since we weren’t too far away, I decided to walk us over to Macondray Lane, a hidden little back alleyway that had been one of my favorite spots once upon a time—all overgrown with trees and flowers and ivy, and with one of the most amazing views of Alcatraz and the bay the city had to offer.

  But the real reason I’d loved it was because Macondray Lane was where Jacob had taken me on our first date. The day after the PCH Autumn Formal and our first kiss.

  When we reached the alley, I allowed myself to flash back to that fall afternoon. I remembered the honey-sweet smell of the air, and the sound of tree leaves whispering to each other as they scattered across the old brick path. I remembered how that day had been warm and wonderful and an utterly unexpected surprise. Jacob Fischer—eater of Cherry Garcia, of all things—actually liked me.

  I watched in amazement as the memory began to play back before me in real time. The shadows peeled away from the ground. The flowers started to open and stretch their stems. Prickles of heat shot along my skin, and the lane instantly lit up with sunshine.

  And suddenly, there we were. Him and me. Or, rather, the old me. I stared wide-eyed as Jacob wandered into the lane, wearing faded jeans and my favorite Patagonia fleece, his fingers looped through mine.

  “Where are we going?” Old Me giggled from behind a blindfold. “Aren’t we there yet?”

  “You’ll see,” Former Jacob said. “Just a little bit farther.”

  Hamloaf looked up at me, his tail thumping on the uneven cobblestone. He cocked his head and whined, not understanding how there could suddenly be two of me.

  Then I understood. The dog could see them. The dog could see my memory.

  “So you’re in my head now too, huh? What are you, Ham, some kind of ESP-puppy?”

  He licked my hand in reply.

  Guess that’s a yes.

  “This better be good,” Old Me said, laughing.

  “Don’t worry,” Jacob teased. “I promise I’ll have you home before America’s Next Top Model.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl’s face. She was me. I was her. Except, somehow, not. I knew this memory by heart, but for some reason, watching the whole thing play out again in front of me, I began to feel like I was spying on someone else’s life. As if the day had never even belonged to me in the first place.

  I remember how impressed I had been by Jacob that afternoon. Impressed by the confidence in his voice, and how laid-back and together he’d seemed. But watching him from this new angle, I could see now how nervous he had actually been. Like maybe he was scared I wouldn’t like him back.

  “Wait here,” he said, dropping my hand. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a big navy blue blanket. I watched him spread it out on a small square section of grass and shakily unload all kinds of farmer’s market goodies. There had to have been at least five kinds of cheeses, not to mention ruby-red raspberries, a loaf of just-baked French bread, and apple crumble for dessert.

  My favorite.

  I watched him take a deep breath as he slowly undid my blindfold. “Okay. You can open now.”

  Old Brie gasped once her eyes had adjusted to the light. “You did this all for me?”

  He reached down and picked a tiny red flower, and I felt my chest tighten as he handed it to her. I knew what was coming.

  Old Brie smiled shyly, took the flower, and leaned in to smell it. But she must have smelled a little too deeply, because the flower shot straight up her nose.

  I groaned, mortified all over again.

  “Dude. That was some serious smelling action,” Jacob joked once he caught his breath from laughing. “I think maybe you’re part vacuum cleaner?”

  Old Me shook her head and threw the flower at him. “I think you mean lawn mower.”

  I saw a sweetness flicker in his eyes. “Happy birthday, Brie.”

  And then they were lost in a sea of kisses.

  I felt my eyes well with tears, and had to look away. In an instant, the shadows reemerged, creeping and twisting their way across the cobblestones like snakes. The boy and the girl disappeared, and the sunshine evaporated into hollow black.

  “Stupid boys,” I whispered, feeling lonelier than ever.

  Hamloaf whined.

  “Not you,” I corrected myself. “You’re the only boy I like.”

  Within seconds, we were alone again. Side by side in a sketchy old alleyway.

  “Come on, Ham. Let’s get out of here.”

  We continued on. Everywhere we walked, I seemed to find something that reminded me of my former life. Overgrown ivy, like at my aunt’s house in Seattle. Warped, painted murals with peace signs, rainbows, and dancing skeletons, like the Grateful Dead posters Dad had stored away in our garage. Black-and-white striped awnings, almost the exact same as the wallpaper in the upstairs bathroom Jack and I used to share.

  It was as if my memory had worked its way over San Francisco, leaving behind some kind of Brie-themed footprint. We took a left on Beulah and a right on Shrader. Half a block later, we had arrived.

  But to my surprise, when I looked up, my Rabbit Hole was gone.

  Or, rather, it was in pieces.

  The place was totally gutted. The once-beautiful front window, completely smashed. The door hanging open, halfway off its hinges, like somebody with a serious attitude problem had kicked it in. Black graffiti—strange symbols I didn’t recognize—were scrolled across the stucco and brick exterior, and the old streetlight seemed as though it hadn’t been lit for a very long time. Everywhere I looked, the pavement sparkled with shards of glass.

  The whole scene gave me the creeps and made me wish for realzies that we were
back in Half Moon Bay.

  “Leave it to me to walk us to the sketchiest block in the universe,” I said. Though on the plus side, at least I hadn’t slipped on a banana peel or, like, accidentally lost all my clothes—which, knowing me, wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

  I blushed for a moment, remembering how Patrick had had to zip me back into my dress after my second bridge jump. Just my luck that the first guy to ever see me fully naked, all at once, would be a dead kid straight out of the eighties.

  Okay, yes, a kind-of-hot dead kid straight out of the eighties, but still.

  “Come on, Woofman.” I knelt down to gather Hamloaf in my arms and zoom us back to Half Moon. “Nothing left to see here.”

  A voice from behind froze me in my tracks.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  My breath caught in my throat as I spun around and came face–to-face with a girl about my age. She was petite, athletic-looking, with killer cheekbones and charcoal-gray eyes. A long dark braid hung loosely over her shoulder, and her skin was so smooth, it reminded me of a porcelain doll. In fact, if not for the burn scars that started near her hairline and spread out like tiny flames across the whole left side of her face, the girl could’ve been a model.

  Big-time.

  I stared at her, completely floored. But not because she was beautiful.

  Because I recognized her.

  “Hey Brie.” She smiled and her eyes flickered, tiny little embers, lighting up the dark. “It’s me. Larkin.”

  CHAPTER 31

  enjoy the silence

  “Larkin? Larkin Ramsey?”

  I smacked her in the arm hard as punishment for scaring me. “What the hell are you DOING here?!”

  “Ow!” she cried out, laughing. “Oh my god, I so wish you could see your face right now. It’s kind of priceless.”

  I just couldn’t believe it. It was too insane to be real. But no, this girl was definitely, absolutely Larkin. She looked exactly the same way I remembered seeing her back in ninth grade. Well, except for that whole “dead” thing. And her scars. I flinched, remembering how awful her death had been.

  Talk about a small world. Or small after-world.

  She walked over to Hamloaf. “Who’s the beagle?”

  “Basset hound,” I corrected her. “What, you don’t remember him?”

  She stared for a solid thirty seconds without saying a thing. “Hamloaf?” She leaned down and shook his paw. “No. Freaking. Way.” Her tone was seriously impressed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve never seen a reverse crossing before.”

  “A reverse what?”

  “Crossing.” She scratched behind his ear and he let out a big, happy yawn. “You’ve still got a pulse, Doggy-Woggy,” she told him. “You’re not supposed to be here. No you’re not!”

  “Oh, that,” I said. “Yeah. He just sort of followed me.”

  “Typical hound dog, wandering off. Aren’t you, boy? Aren’t you? Yes, you are!”

  He rolled over, panting happily. Then he farted.

  “Oh, jeez, Hamloaf,” I groaned. “Come on!”

  Larkin jumped to her feet, holding her nose. “Whoa there. What the hell’s his problem?”

  “Sorry,” I apologized on Ham’s behalf. “It just means he likes you.”

  She laughed. “Good to know.”

  Watching her in the foggy moonlight, I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What are you doing here?” I marveled at her. “I’ve been walking all night. I thought the whole city was empty.”

  “That’s what I like about it.” She smiled. “But the real question is, what are you doing here?”

  I paused for a second and shrugged. “I guess I needed to get away. Needed a change of scenery.”

  “No, silly. I mean, what are you doing being dead? What the hell happened to you? Weren’t you like the queen of the swim team or something?”

  I laughed. “Diving team, I think you mean.”

  “Swimming, diving”—she waved her hand—“it all turns your hair green. So what happened? What took down the invincible Aubrie Eagan?”

  Invincible. Ha, that’s funny.

  “I don’t know,” I said, trying to find the right words. “I guess I sort of had a problem with a—”

  “Wait, wait, wait, don’t tell me, let me guess! This will be way more fun. Let’s see . . .” She circled me slowly, her arms crossed. “Could it have been . . . a plane crash?”

  I shook my head.

  “Bank robbery?”

  “Nope.”

  She eyed Hamloaf. “Death by Dogfart?”

  “Hey!” I laughed. “Be nice!”

  “Okay, okay.” She giggled. “Just exploring all the possibilities.” She eyed me like a detective. “Hot-air balloon accident? Car trouble? Boy trouble?”

  Her last guess got my attention. I felt myself cringe the tiniest bit.

  “Boy trouble!” she exclaimed. “That’s totally it, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Kinda.”

  She held up her hand. “I am awesome. High five.”

  I snorted. “I know, right?”

  “Come on, I’m serious!” Larkin said. “High five, friend! I got that in like five guesses. That’s pretty good.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “Sure.” I reached out quickly and slapped her palm.

  “Yeah, so that was offish the lamest high five ever.” She held her hand up a second time. “Do-over.”

  I gave her a funny look, a little embarrassed over my lack of skills.

  “Come on,” she said. “Just pretend it’s his face you’re slapping.”

  I snorted, but decided to try. I thought about his face. His stupid, annoying, lying face. I thought about the way he always got to pick where we’d go on dates, and how his house never had after-school snacks as good as mine, and how I’d been such a good girlfriend I’d never mentioned that sometimes his breath smelled just a little too much like Blue Ranch Doritos.

  “I’m waaaiting.” Larkin tapped her foot impatiently.

  I thought about Sadie in his arms that morning on the beach. I thought about how the two of them had betrayed me.

  Then I slapped Larkin’s hand as hard as I could.

  CRACK!

  “Damn!” Larkin yelped. She took a step back and blew on her skin to cool it off. “Okay. Now that was a high five.”

  I grinned and couldn’t help wishing that Patrick had witnessed it. “Thanks.”

  She kicked a few shards of glass out of the way and sat down on the pavement a few feet over. “So. That bad, huh?” She dug through her pockets and pulled out a crumbling pack of cigarettes.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “That bad.”

  She held the pack out to me. “Want one?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” With a tiny upward flick of her thumb, a small orange flame appeared from inside her fist, no lighter necessary.

  Whoa. Guess I missed that chapter in the D&G.

  For a second, I couldn’t help staring. The glow of the flame cast an eerie flicker of light across Larkin’s face, illuminating her burns. I couldn’t help being reminded of Patrick’s scar. The way he’d shrugged it off. “Bike accident,” he’d said. “No big deal.”

  The memory of his voice made me feel kind of sick to my stomach, and I felt guilty for telling him to get lost. Worse than that.

  I felt selfish.

  We sat together in silence until her cigarette had burned down to practically nothing. I realized I didn’t know what to say to her, since the last time we’d really talked was way back in fifth-grade carpool.

  “I fell in love once,” Larkin remarked. “Poor guy didn’t even know I existed.” She chuckled and lightly traced the scars on her face. “I mean, not that I existed for very long, exactly.” Then she winked at me. “Oh well. Sucks for him.”

  It seemed hard to believe that someone as model-esque as Larkin—burns or no burns—could’ve ever had her heart messed with by a guy. Sure,
she’d always been a bit of a loner, but it seemed like a stretch to think Larkin Ramsey could’ve ever had boy trouble.

  Or who knows? I thought. Maybe all heartbreak is created equal.

  “Who was it?” I asked, wanting to know more. “Who was the guy?”

  “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “I promise.”

  She gave me a sheepish grin. “Dr. O’Neil.”

  My mouth dropped open. “The chemistry teacher?”

  “I know!” she groaned. “But come on. He’s hot!”

  I couldn’t argue with her. I knew plenty of girls who thought so. Sadie included.

  We talked and talked and couldn’t seem to stop. I told her all about Slice and my fight with Patrick. I told her about how I’d almost completely beaten my fear of motorcycles, and about Dad and Mrs. Brenner’s affair. I even told her about my stupid broken heart and the even stupider boy who broke it. All about his stupid hair, and stupid smile, and stupid skateboard and track team—even his stupid obsession with Lord of the Rings.

  “I dunno,” she said. “This Jacob dude sounds like a real Bilbo Douche-Baggins. I’d say you’re better off without him.”

  It felt good to get so much off my chest. Really, really good. I inhaled slowly, feeling totally liberated as the smell of beach and surf and sunrise filled my lungs.

  Oh, finally, daylight.

  I glanced up at the sky, but was surprised when I couldn’t even find a speck of gold or blue or violet peeking up over the horizon. Just endless, bottomless black.

  “Don’t hold your breath,” said Larkin. “The sun stopped shining here ages ago.” She stood up and stretched. “Hey!” She laughed. “At least we won’t get skin cancer.”

  “Good point,” I said, jumping up with her. Before I knew it, she’d wrapped me up in a giant bear hug.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Brie.” She glanced over at Hamloaf, who was snoring peacefully on the sidewalk across the street. For a moment, her eyes seemed to shimmer in the starlight. “Both of you.”

  CHAPTER 32

  just like a prayer