The Catastrophic History of You And Me (25 page)

CHAPTER 44

somewhere over the rainbow

I
sat up, gasping for air.

But the only sound that came back was the soft whirring of my ceiling fan, the little gold chain smacking against it in perfect, spinning rhythm.

Smack whir smack whir smack whir.

I fell back against my pillow, aching, exhausted, and so glad to be safe and warm and snuggled into my very own bed with my very own goose-down comforter. My stomach growled and I could smell something delicious cooking downstairs.

Mmm, World’s Greatest Lasagna.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, yawned, and noticed the soft glow of evening peeking in through my white linen curtains. No storm. No rain. No thunder or lightning or island on fire. There was only my clean, cottony sheets, and my perfect pillow. Everything silky soft and wonderfully smooth against my skin.

My sheets. My bed. My wonderful, amazing bed.

Um, hold up.

I sat up so quickly I almost gave myself the head rush of the century. My senses were on fire, and my pulse was racing, and my heart was beating at ten thousand miles a second, and I—

Wait.

I put my hand to my chest and pressed down hard. There it was. A ticklish, radiating heat. Followed by an extremely determined, positively resonating
thump.

“Oh. My. GOD.”

I had a heartbeat. As in, I had a
heart
. And it was BEATING.

Before I could even begin to process what was happening, a familiar voice rang out, calling to me from downstairs.

“Brie? Honey? Can you come unload the dishwasher before you go out, please?”

I froze.

Mom?

I leaped out of bed, still in my sundress. Flung my bedroom door open and raced toward her voice. Everything felt and smelled and looked exactly the same. The scratchy sound of my shoes padding against the upstairs carpeting. The warm glow of the antique lamp my grandparents had given us years ago. The mixed-up picture frames lining the hallway. Jack on his sixth birthday, and me on my twelfth. Mom and Dad on their honeymoon. Hamloaf as a puppy. The same squeak in the same floorboard, and the fluffy white towels peeking out at me from the bathroom.

Everything was in its rightful place.

I darted down the stairs, skipping the last two just like always. Daylilies on the dining room table, sitting in the hideous green vase I’d made mom in seventh grade. Dad’s sunglasses on the table by the front door. The smell of lilac and Tide laundry detergent—the greatest smell in the world—filling my nose. Paul Simon singing through the speakers.

“Hearts and Bones.”

Mom’s favorite.

I heard Hamloaf’s nails scratching and sliding on the kitchen floor, then the den, then the living room, running toward me, totally unstoppable. All of a sudden he was in my arms, covering me with so many doggy kisses that I thought I might pass out from happiness.

“Hammyyyyyy!”

He was panting and howling and barking like I hadn’t been inside the house in a long, long time. Because it was true.

“What’s
his
problem?” Jack wandered into the den and flopped down onto our big comfy sofa with his Nintendo DS.

Oh, Jack.

My eyes welled up as I thought of Sam—his little freckled face. Missing his big brother so bad he couldn’t stand it.

In a flash, I had leaped across the rug and landed on top of him, attacking my little brother with more hugs and kisses than I’d given him in his entire life. (And I’ve given him a
lot
.) He screamed with laughter and we rolled onto the carpet wrestling, neither of us feeling any pain whatsoever.

“Brie and Jack Eagan, enough!” Mom laughed from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands with a towel. I looked up. Her dark hair and funky cool glasses. Her high cheekbones and pale green eyes. She looked so beautiful. Immediately, I flew up from the rug and straight into her arms.

“Brie!” she cried out as I crashed into her full force, nearly knocking her down.

I didn’t care. I hugged her harder than I had in years. And she noticed.

“Honey?” She felt my forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

All I could do was nod. I was crying too hard to do or say anything else.

She pulled away and took my face in her hands. “Oh, sweetie.” She smoothed the hair out of my eyes. “Why are you crying?”

Is it really you? Is it really truly honestly you?

I shook my head. “Sorry,” I choked. “I just missed you so much.” I hugged her again, not wanting to let go. Ever.

“You missed me?” She laughed, caught off guard by all the sudden affection. “Since when? Since thirty minutes ago?” She gave me another worried look. “Honey, I really hope you’re not coming down with something.”

I shook my head that I wasn’t.

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” she murmured into my hair. “I love that dress on you.”

“What do you mean?” I said, not moving an inch. “Wearing to what?”

She chuckled at me. “Wow. You really
are
acting weird. Isn’t tonight a certain big date? With a certain boyfriend?”

Boyfriend?

Mom motioned to the big clock hanging on our kitchen wall. “Sweetie, isn’t Jacob picking you up at eight?”

I pulled away and felt my face go pale.

“What day is it?”

This time, I got a
really
strange look. “October fourth.” She crossed her arms. “Okay, now I’m worried. What’s going on with you?”

I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the newspaper sitting on the counter. October 4, just like she’d said. I looked again, and a huge sense of dread crept its way up my throat.

October 4, 2010
.

Last year.

Then it hit me.

I’m reliving it. I’m ACTUALLY reliving the night I died.

I dropped the newspaper and backed away slowly. “I’m not feeling so well.”

“I can tell.” Mom walked over and started gathering up the mess of pages. “Listen, honey, I can take care of this. Maybe you should call Jacob and cancel?”

Jacob
.

“He’s alive?” I whispered.

She gave me an odd look. “Brie, that’s not funny. Don’t joke about something like that.” She started unloading all the clean silverware. “Listen, I’ve got this, but I’d really like you to straighten up the kitchen for me when you’re back later, okay?” She opened the silverware drawer and started putting stuff away. All the knives and forks clinked a little as she placed them inside the drawer. “And don’t forget, Dad and I want you home no later than eleven. I mean it, if you’re going to be even a second later than curfew, we’ll need to know.”

“But I don’t—”

“No buts.” Her voice was firm. “We bought you that phone for a reason. It wasn’t so you could text Sadie and the girls during class. Call us if you’re going to be late, please. Or how about this?” She crossed her arms. “
Don’t
be.”

Jack raced into the kitchen like a mini-tornado, Hamloaf galloping behind him. He flung the refrigerator door open and pulled out a half-drunk Capri Sun, which I promptly grabbed out of his hands.

“Mmmm!”
I slurped. “Pacific Cooler! God that’s good.”

“Hey!” Jack crossed his arms. “Mom!”

“Brie, don’t tease your brother. There’s a whole new box in there; just get your own, honey.”

I handed the drink back to my brother. “Sorry, pal. It just looked so good I couldn’t resist.”

Right then, I heard the sound of the garage creaking open. The
vroom
of a car driving in, followed by the engine shutting off. Then footsteps, then the doorknob turning, and then—

“Hey, bud? What’d we just talk about yesterday?” Dad walked into the kitchen, carrying a few bags of groceries, still in his white doctor’s coat. Hamloaf jumped up.

“Huh?” Jack mumbled, slurping up the last of the Capri Sun.

“Your bike?”

Jack paused for a second, trying to remember. Then his face erupted into the cutest grin ever. “Oops! I forgot!” He darted outside to wheel it back into the garage.

“Good day, hon?” Mom pecked Dad lightly on the lips, taking the grocery bags out of his hands. “Thanks for stopping.” She rustled through the bags. “Sweetie, did you get my eggplant?”

“Mm.” He nodded, not even bothering to look up, thumbing through the day’s mail.

Dad
.

I stared at him, hard, arms crossed. He was back to his old, handsome self. His hair was short, face clean-shaven. But even though part of me was dying to race across the kitchen and give him a giant bear hug—
he was my dad, after all
—I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Instead, I hopped up onto the counter and started kicking my feet against one of the bottom cabinets. Just loud enough that Dad looked up. When his eyes met mine, he smiled. Came over and gave me a big kiss on the forehead.

“Evening, Miss Mozzarella.”

I pulled away.

Nice try.

He looked confused and a little hurt at my chilly attitude. “What’s the matter?” He glanced at Mom. “Uh-oh. Do I detect boy trouble?”

Oh, don’t you DARE go there. Don’t you even dare.

She shook her head, rustling through the fridge. “Not sure, hon. She’s definitely acting a little strange tonight, though.”

I did my absolute best impression of a Rebellious Teenager. “Am
not
.” I glared at Dad, angry at him in advance for what I knew he would eventually do to our family.

And then the doorbell rang.

I looked up and suddenly felt afraid.

Mom made a move toward the hallway.

No. Please don’t answer it.

“I’ll see who it is!” I heard Jack tear through the living room over to the front door. “Cheddy!” he yelled. “It’s Jaaaaaaacob!”

“I don’t think I should go,” I blurted out, feeling completely barfalicious. “I’ve got, um, too much homework.”

Mom and Dad both looked as if I’d sprouted a third eyeball. “Honey, you’ve been talking nonstop about this date for the last week,” Mom said. “You’ll have a great time.”

Um, not exactly.

But then something came over me. My arms and legs started moving without me moving them, as if I’d turned into some remote-controlled gadget. I couldn’t stop myself from jumping off the counter. I couldn’t stop myself from moving through the living room, toward the front door.

“No, no, no,
no,
” I whispered. I could see a familiar shadow through the pale linen curtains. He was standing on the front porch. Somebody I’d never expected to see again. Even in shadow-form, I could see him fidgeting. I could tell that he was nervous. Like maybe he didn’t want to go through with our date.

I didn’t blame him.

My hand touched the doorknob.

Stop it.

Slowly began to turn.

Please, no. I want to stay.

But when I finally pulled the door open—no matter how hard I tried to fight the feeling—I couldn’t help my breath from catching.

His eyes were like the ocean.

Right before a storm.

CHAPTER 45

how to save a life

W
e drove to the restaurant in silence. The whole ride was so surreal I literally had to keep pinching myself to believe it was actually happening.

I’m in his car.

PINCH.

Like actually In His Car.

PINCH.

He’s there. And I’m here. And we are here, together, in his car.

PINCHPINCHPINCH.

“Ow!” I yelped. That last pinch had been a little over the top.

Jacob gave me a funny look. “You okay?”

I nodded nervously. “Mm-hm. Totally good.”

Except for the small fact that I was totally lying. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, my feet were tapping, and . . . I’m pretty sure my eye was twitching.

“You sure? You seem weird.” He cleared his throat and darted a couple of glances at me as we drove toward Pasta Moon.

I tried to steady myself. I knew what was coming, and I was scared.

My one chance. My only chance. What if I say the wrong thing? What if he doesn’t want to hear it from me?

I watched him carefully, noticing all the details I hadn’t noticed the first time around. Like the way he kept clearing his throat. The way he kept fumbling with the radio. The way he could barely even look at me. Finally, we pulled into the parking lot, found a spot, and walked into the restaurant. He didn’t hold my hand.

The hostess led us to our table and I took the same seat as always, right in the corner of the room, where we had a view of the entire restaurant. We ordered some drinks and appetizers—fried calamari and mozzarella sticks, but I was so nervous I could hardly eat a bite.

I wasn’t the only one.

Jacob was shakier than I’d ever seen him. He made a total mess of himself, spilling balsamic vinegar all over his shirt and getting more marinara sauce on the table than in his mouth. When our main courses finally arrived, I watched him push his shrimp linguini around his plate for a full ten minutes before he finally spoke.

“Brie?”

Here it comes.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

I stared at him, not saying a word.

His voice wavered and I could see the fear growing in his eyes. Watching this scene play out for the second time, it was incredibly obvious he’d been afraid to hurt me.

But there was more to it now—a whole other side to his fear that I hadn’t noticed the first time around.

As I saw him twirl one nervous bite of pasta after the other, I couldn’t help but wonder if Sadie already knew the secret he had planned to confess to me over dinner.

Something told me the answer was yes.

And honestly, that’s what hurt most of all. Knowing that Jacob, one of my best friends in the whole world, had not been able to confide in me.

Because my old stupid heart had gotten in the way before he’d been able to get the words out.

Well, not this time. Tonight was not about me. It was about
him
.

And this time, I was going to listen.

Who knew if there was anything I could do or say to change the future or the past. Larkin hadn’t been able to revise her history for the better. And clearly, neither had Patrick.

But I still had to try.

I reached across the table and put my hand on his. “What is it?” I asked quietly. “What’s going on with you?”

He looked up at me, his hand cold and clammy, and I could almost see words hanging there like smoke.

“Huh?” he said. “What do you mean?”

I stared into his eyes and tried to focus. Tried to let him know everything would be all right. That he was safe.

It’s okay. You can tell me.

He paused for a long moment. His face had started to turn red and I could see his palms begin to shake. “Brie?”

“Jacob?”

Here it comes. Here it is
.

“I don’t love you.”

I closed my eyes, letting the words wash over me. They hurt, but not in the same way I remembered. This time, it was more of a bittersweet ache than a crushing blow.

I felt myself relax as I realized that, in fact, the world hadn’t ended.

I opened my eyes.

“I mean,” he caught himself, “I
do
love you. I really, really do. Just not . . . not the way you think.” He looked down at his plate. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m not
in
love with you.”

I took a deep breath and did my absolute best to get the words right. The way they should have been the first time around.

“I know, Jacob. It’s okay. I’m not in love with you either.”

His eyes widened in shock.
“What?”

“Just that. Just what you said. I’m not in love with you either.”

“I don’t get it.” He was staring at me like I’d suddenly started speaking Japanese. “Is there somebody else?”

“Yeah,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “There is.”

For a minute, he wouldn’t look at me.

“Hey?” I leaned in closer. “You okay?” I lifted his chin softly with my hand.

Our eyes met; I saw that he was on the brink of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I ruined everything.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You didn’t.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“You’re not.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I
do
.” I squeezed his hand. “You can tell me anything. I’m your friend. I’ll always be your friend.”

He sniffled and wiped his face with his napkin. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“Say it however you want to say it.”

He lowered his head, gazing down at his sneakers to gather his courage. “I think . . . I think I might be gay.”

Then I did something I should’ve done a long time ago.

I scooted my chair back across the tiled floor. I made my way to his side of the table, sat down next to him, and put my arm around his shoulder. “I’m really glad you told me.”

He shook his head a few times like he didn’t believe me. Or like he didn’t understand. “You are? Really?”

I nodded. “Really.”

“You mean . . . you don’t hate me?”

“Well . . .” I did my best to sound annoyed. “Maybe a little.”

His face grew worried. “Oh.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “That makes sense. I’ll go—”

I grabbed his arm and gave him a smile. “I mean, seriously! You ate the last bite of your pasta without even
offering
any to me.”

He looked at his empty plate, confused. Finally, he let out a big laugh. “Okay, you got me. Good one.”

I giggled. “Buy me a Frosty after this and we’ll call it even.”

His blue eyes met mine and I saw how grateful he was. And how relieved.

“Thanks, Brie.” He leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and flopped back down next to me with a giant sigh of relief. “I’ve been so afraid to tell you. I was positive you’d never talk to me again. That you’d hate me forever.”

I shook my head. “Not possible.”

He smiled and took my hand in his. “You really are the best girlfriend ever.”

“No,” I said softly, the memory of Patrick creeping in. “I’m not.”

Right then, a sudden pain shot through my chest and I fell back against my chair.

Wait. No. What’s happening? This isn’t supposed to happen.

I
felt my heart beginning to race out of control.

But I fixed it. I did things differently this time!

“Brie?” Jacob’s voice grew worried. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Out of nowhere, the pain became so intense I could hardly speak. My vision went blurry and the restaurant began to turn a squeamish black. Strange voices began to echo all around me—like the beach at Angel Island—and I felt his hands on my shoulders, trying to call me back.

“Brie?
” Jacob cried. “Tell me what to do. What the hell should I do?!”

“Be yourself,” I whispered, squeezing his hand one more time. “Just be yourself.” Another stabbing, searing pain ripped through me, and Patrick’s face flashed through my mind.

Don’t you know I love you? Don’t you know I’ve always loved you?

In an instant, the whole world went quiet.

I opened my eyes.

The restaurant was gone.

Instead, I was standing in a lush green field right on the edge of the highway, overlooking the breezy, sparkly ocean. The sun was shining directly overhead, warming my shoulders, and the sky was the bluest I’d ever seen—only two or three cotton-ball clouds as far as the horizon.

A perfect summer day.

What is all this?

Was I back in my slice of heaven? I had to be. A day this beautiful couldn’t possibly exist in real life.

“Angel?” a guy’s voice called out from behind me. “Your chariot awaits.”

I turned slowly and saw a boy sitting on a beat-up, well-loved motorcycle. I recognized his short, chestnut hair. That worn-out gray T-shirt. The soft, faded leather jacket.

“Hiiiighwaaaay to the daaanger zone,” Patrick sang, miming an electric guitar. Then he tried to rev up the engine, but a cloud of smoke shot out of the muffler, engulfing him. “Shoot,” he coughed, waving the air clean. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I burst out laughing. “I hope you don’t think I’m getting on that thing. Because I’m definitely not!”

“Come on, lil’ lady,” he said. “Just once down the highway. You’ll love it!”

Lil’ lady.

Then I got it. Lil’ for Lily.

He smiled and his eyes crinkled a little at the edges. Oh, that smile. I felt myself beginning to cave.

“No,” I said. “Nuh-uh. No way. I refuse to set foot on that death-mobile.”

“Come on,” he said, spotting his chance. “Just one ride and I’ll buy you a milk shake.”

“What do you think, you can bribe me?” I shook my head. “Not going to work.”

“On second thought”—his eyes twinkled—“I’ll buy you a
Frosty
.”

That was all I could take. Talk about a pushover.

I ran over and threw my arms around him, laughing. I pulled away and looked straight into his eyes—more green today than brown—and gave him a kiss right on the nose.

“Oh, all right,” I said. “I’ll ride down the highway
once
. But that’s it!”

He beamed. “You won’t regret it, Angel.” He handed me a small black helmet, and I jumped on board, wrapping my arms around his waist as tightly as I could.

“You’d better go
slow,
Patrick Darling. Or else.”

“Or else what?” he teased.

I teased him right back. “Or else I’ll find a new boyfriend.”

He turned and looked at me over his shoulder, flashing the most adorable grin ever. “Sorry, Angel. I’m not letting you get away that easy.” Then he kick-started the engine, and I felt the bike come to life beneath me, lurching forward.

“Slow!” I yelled, smacking him. “I’m serious!”

But before long, as we began to pick up speed, I felt myself starting to relax. I felt my shoulders loosen, and allowed myself to close my eyes and imagine that we were flying. The mix of sunshine and ocean air was completely intoxicating. I leaned in and kissed Patrick between the shoulder blades, feeling like the luckiest girl in the whole world.

Because in that instant, I
was
.

I’d gotten the best of both worlds. I’d gone back and fixed things in one life so Jacob would be okay. And now I’d get to be the girl I was born to be, holding the boy I was born to love.

But then I had a thought.

The sunshine. The air. The ocean road, stretching along for miles and miles. The storm clouds moving in from the north.

Wait a second.

My eyes flew open.

Please, not storm clouds
.

But there they were. They’d quietly snuck in over the mountains, ominous and gray, looming over us like monsters.

Just like in my nightmare.

No. Please, god, no
.

The truth washed over me like a ton of crushing steel. I had been foolish to think I could get away with reliving just one death.

Because I had lived
twice
.

“Patrick!” I cried out over the rush of the wind. “Turn around! We’ve got to go back!”

“What?” he shouted. “I can’t hear you!” He turned toward me for a fraction of a second, trying to understand what I was saying.

Unfortunately, one second was all it took.

I heard the blare of a horn and the sound of screeching tires before I saw the van hurtling toward us across the median. I felt my blood freeze inside my veins as I watched the whole world crash into us in slow motion. A storm of glass and heat and metal on fire as the bike was torn out from under me.