It’s as if she can read my mind.
“He would want you to be happy,” she says.
“You know that, right?”
“I know.”
She looks up at the cliff,
where Jackson stood before he jumped.
“I really believe they’re at peace
when we’re at peace.
They want us to go on,
living the lives we’re meant to live.”
“You gave me that CD, Joy, Not Sorrow,” I say.
“That’s what he wants for you, Brooklyn.
He wants you to find joy.”
We sit for a while longer,
talking, until the wind picks up,
and it gets cold.
As we walk to the car,
I feel a pull.
The wind whispers to me,
go there,
go there,
go there.
“Why’d you come here today?” I ask.
“The wind whispered to me,” she says.
“And I listened.”
“I think I know that whisper.”
But just to be sure,
I send him a text.
Sat., Feb. 25th—Nico
I’m swinging
when she sits down beside me.
“Hi,” she says.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I say.
She laughs. “Yeah. It is.”
Sat., Feb. 25th—Brooklyn
I pump my feet hard
while he slows down.
Soon, we’re swinging
at the exact same speed.
“How you been?” he asks.
“Good,” I say.
“I’m running five miles without walking.
I’ve even found the zone a couple of times.”
“Wow. That’s excellent.”
“Still, I’m no Tom Strong,” she says.
“Yeah, so, what’s the deal with Tom Strong?” he asks.
“He’s basically my hero,” I tell him.
Then I reach over,
handing him the folded letter.
“Should I be worried?”
“No,” I say.
“You definitely don’t need to worry.”
He reads the letter,
and when he’s done,
he reaches over and grabs my hand.
“Ready to jump?” he asks.
I look at him,
my heart like
an overfilled balloon,
about to burst.
I smile. “Ready.”
And together we jump
a really
long way.
Sat., April 2nd—Nico
I finish the race
and wait for her.
She’s worked so hard.
We’ve come so far.
It was hard at first.
We struggled.
We pounded through the pain.
We struggled some more.
We doubted our abilities.
We questioned our motives.
We found strength in each other.
We told ourselves it would be worth it.
That we’d make it through to the other side.
Happy.
Healed.
Loved.
It was never about the race.
Because as she crosses the finish line,
I know it’s not the end.
I grab her,
kiss her wind-chapped face all over,
and spin her around
in the sea of colorful jerseys,
knowing it’s only just
the beginning.
Now a glimpse
of Lisa Schroeder’s first novel …
I Heart You,
You Haunt Me
A Strange Sensation
I can hear my heart
beat
beat
beating
in the darkness
as I try
to go to sleep.
The clock says 12:08.
Mom is asleep by now.
I get up
and go down the stairs
to make hot cocoa.
Will he be there,
waiting for me?
My heart is
beat
beat
beating
faster,
even though
there’s no sign of him.
When the hot cocoa is done,
I put marshmallows in.
I stir slowly,
watching them melt
into each other.
I think of Jackson.
His touch,
his kisses,
and the way he looked at me,
with eyes like a green ocean.
I take a sip,
and the cocoa’s so hot
it burns my tongue.
Hot.
Cold.
Hot.
Cold.
I shiver.
“Jackson?”
Music Says It All
I sit down
at the kitchen table
and I whisper,
like he is sitting
right across from me.
“Jackson, I know it’s you.
I’m not scared.
Maybe I should be, but I’m not.
Whatever you need to do to talk to me,
in your own way, is okay.
I’m not scared.
“Can I see you?
I want to see you.”
Nothing happens.
I ask him, “Don’t ghosts or spirits or whatever
sometimes show themselves?”
And then
the CD player
on the kitchen counter
starts to play.
3 Doors Down.
Here By Me.
… and her second:
Far from You
day five
When I wake up,
early in the morning,
the sun barely
visible
and the blackness
disappearing
just enough
so I can see,
I go outside
and look
for the angel I made.
She’s gone,
of course,
covered by
fresh, new snow.
I make another one.
When I’m done,
I don’t get up.
I stay there
and dream of
flying away
to the place
where angels
live happily
ever
after.
far from you
My wings lift me
out of the snow,
above the trees,
into the clouds.
My wings carry me
to a place where
all is washed clean
and there is light.
My wings give me
a view of you,
afraid of the shadows,
alone in the cold.
My wings show me
when I’m far from you
it’s like an icicle
through my heart.
My wings return me
to the soft patch of snow
where the sun shines brightly
and love brighter still.
a message
And then
the real angel visits again,
her light
illuminating the world
around me.
I try to see her face,
but she appears to be
faceless.
Warmth engulfs
and soothes me,
like a warm bubble bath
on a cold winter’s night.
She whispers my name.
“Alice.”
I can’t make my lips
say her name.
“Don’t
give up,” she says so softly,
I can hardly hear her.
“Help is coming.”
Then, as quickly
as she appeared,
she’s gone again.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LISA SCHRODER is the author of Far from You and I Heart You, You Haunt Me, a 2009 ALA Quick Pick for Reluctant Young Adult Readers. She loves to write in verse because it allows her to really get at the emotional core of the story. She is grateful to all of the people who have read her books and told their friends about them, since being an author is more fun than ponies or water slides (most of the time, anyway). Lisa lives in Oregon with her husband and two sons. You can visit her online at LisaSchroederBooks.com.
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