Read The Catastrophic History of You And Me Online
Authors: Jess Rothenberg
I got up and walked over to the poem. The frame’s edges were golden, rusted, familiar. I could just barely make out my reflection in the shine of the glass. I saw my long, dark hair. Warm, rosy cheeks. My green eyes. A little older. A little wiser. I reached out and lightly touched the glass, tracing my reflection.
I was beautiful, just like Mom always said. I wished I had believed her. I wished I could tell them all again how much they’d meant to me. How much they would always mean. But more than anything else, I wished I had known just how lucky I’d been to have them in the first place.
To have lived. To have loved. To have
been
loved.
What else could a girl have ever asked for?
“Angel,” I heard Patrick whisper.
In that moment, I knew it was time.
And I was finally ready.
Then a feeling swelled in my chest—not the ripping, searing pain I’d felt when I died, but a friendly warmth, all heat and light, surging through me, erasing the scar tissue left behind by my broken heart. By the tears and sense of betrayal that Jacob and Sadie had never meant to cause. I knew that now.
I fell to my knees as all around me my room began to bend and shift and break away from the sadness. A swirling tunnel of air lifted me gently, and I looked down. I was beginning to fade.
Patrick’s voice sparkled all around me.
Take my hand
.
I took it.
Then, in my final moment here on earth, my eyes focused and settled on the last lines of my grandpa’s poem—lines that had always been special, but which I’d never truly understood until right then.
And even though I knew them all by heart, I read the words aloud anyway.
In the midst of happiness or despair
in sorrow or in joy
in pleasure or in pain:
Do what is right and you will be at peace.
In life there is no greater gift than peace,
except love.
May you always have love.
THE LYRICS, THE ARTISTS, THE ALBUMS . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I
n no particular order, many thanks go out . . .
To Lauri Hornik, for her brilliance, patience, kindness, and utter belief in this story (and in me) from day one; to Natalie Sousa and Linda McCarthy for their gorgeous jacket design; and to everyone at Penguin Young Readers for their enthusiasm and support.
To Hannah Brown Gordon and Stéphanie Abou of Foundry Literary + Media, for their dedication and hard work.
To the students and faculty of the Vermont College of Fine Arts—and especially Cynthia Leitich Smith, Rita Williams-Garcia, Lindsey Stoddard, and the League of Extraordinary Cheese Sandwiches, for their friendship and life-changing encouragement. (If you don’t believe in magic, you haven’t been to Montpelier, VT.)
To all of the Razorbills past and present—and in particular to Lexa Hillyer, Laura Schechter, and Pamela McElroy, for their unwavering loyalty, love, and inspiration; to Hamloaf, who was more golden retriever than goldfish (and to Anne Heltzel, for letting me use his name); and to Ben Schrank, for giving me every opportunity, occasionally challenging my sanity, and reminding me to walk when it was raining.
To all of my brilliant and amazing friends who make me so proud to know them; to Janna Wielgorecki, Jesse Lutz, and Heather Mithoefer, for being the sisters I never had; and to Hannah Spencer and Joyce Tang (a.k.a. The-Best-Roommates-Ever-Even-Though-We-Don’t-Live-Together-Anymore).
To Jane von Mehren for hiring me, and to Stephen Morrison for not firing me; to Jordan Goldman and Colleen Buyers for that first ever editorial internship that led me to Penguin, and to Josh Poole for making me weep with laughter all summer long.
To my family, for their constant love and support—and especially to my parents, Patricia, Ben, John, and Kim, for not taking away the flashlight they knew I was hiding underneath my pillow and for buying me every single Sweet Valley and/or Archie comic book on earth (even though my teachers told them not to).
To Stephen Barbara, an agent so extraordinary he gave me no choice but to marry him; to Papa, for his beautiful words and wisdom; and to Mom, my biggest fan, most dependable reader, and best friend. I couldn’t have done this without you.
Finally, to all the boys—from preschool and beyond—who ever broke my heart: Thanks for everything. Revenge may be sweet, but book deals are definitely sweeter.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J
ess Rothenberg grew up in Charleston, South Carolina, graduated from Vassar College, and spent most of her twenties editing books for teens and middle grade readers. She lives in Brooklyn, where she writes full-time, dances interpretively, and dreams of one day owning a sheepdog named Leo.
The Catastrophic History of You and Me
is her first novel.