Chasing Brooklyn

  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.