The Catastrophic History of You And Me (6 page)

CHAPTER 10

yeah I’m free, free fallin’

“H
ey, Chalupa, you can open your eyes now.”

“Yeah, you know what? I think I like them better closed.”

“Come on,” said Patrick. “The view’s insane. Look down.”

“I’m pretty sure the correct phrase is
don’t
look down.”

“Don’t worry.” He laughed. “I’m right here. I won’t let you go.”

Even with Patrick trying to comfort me, I couldn’t bring myself to look. Turns out, I was about to learn, the only way back to earth—as in the living, breathing world—is by
falling
back. From somewhere really,
really
high.

“Thanks,” I said. “That is so comforting. Um, or not.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a tiny bit dramatic?”

“Don’t you think that jacket is a little last season?”

“Come on, aren’t you some sort of Olympic athlete or something?” He chuckled. “Just think of this as a really big diving board.”

I let out a huge laugh. “Yeah right. This is
so
not the same thing.” But still, I couldn’t deny I was curious. I took a deep breath as the wind whipped my hair every which way. Finally, I dared to open my eyes. And when I did, I nearly fainted at the sight.

We were standing at the top of the world.

Somehow, in the space of a single breath, Patrick had whisked me up into the clouds, to the very highest point of the Golden Gate Bridge—the platform of the north tower, nearly a thousand feet above the churning, crushing Pacific. The sun was setting over the bay, all soft rolling hills and golden light mixed with hazy streaks of lavender. A thick blanket of fog stretched out in every possible direction, and across the bay I saw glimmers of San Francisco peeking through, sparkling like a magical playground. Even farther in the distance, little baby stars had begun to dot the edges of the sky.

“Oh. My.
God
.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“This is just, like . . .
incredible
.”

He smiled. “I told you.” The light caught his face right then and, for a split second, his eyes turned gold, set on fire by the California sunset.

Okay, fine. I was ready to admit it. Patrick was cute. Not shaggy-haired Patagonia-fleecy cute like Jacob. More like a little bit crew cut, a little bit James Dean, a little bit I-don’t-have-to-try cute.

He took a step closer to the edge and bent his knees like he was about to swan dive right off. “Dare me?”

“God!” I reached out and grabbed his jacket, pulling him back. “Do
not
joke about that!”

“Please.” He grinned. “Call me Patrick.”

I shook my head and groaned. “Man, I’m starting to think my little brother is more mature than you. And he’s eight.”

“Eight’s better than I usually get. So come on, are you ready yet?”

I ignored him. I didn’t care how cute he was, or how much his stupid eyes sparkled in the stupid sunlight. There was no way, no way in heaven or in hell or in whatever this place was, that I was jumping off this bridge.

No freaking WAY.

“How the bajeezus did we get up here anyway?” I asked, looking for another way down.

“We zoomed.”

“Zoomed?”
I glared at him. “What are we in, like, a Pixar movie?”

“Okay, I think somebody officially watched way too much Disney as a child.”

“There’s no such thing as too much Disney,” I muttered, trying not to pass out or throw up or some combination of the two. Oh, this was bad. My teeth began to chatter. I could hear and feel the rumbling of the bridge vibrating beneath me.

All grating metal and giant twisting suspension cables and echoes of the deep, scary ocean from somewhere incredibly far below. I couldn’t even comprehend how high up we were. Diving off a ten-meter platform at after-school practice was one thing, but this dive wasn’t even in the same zip code.

Or the same solar system.

I kneeled down and told myself to stay calm. Champion diver or not, my head swirled as I pictured myself slipping, falling, and smashing into the San Francisco Bay at g-force speed, and then straight into the jaws of a great white shark.

“You know,” I grumbled, “I really wish you’d explained this whole bridge-jumping thing before you dragged me up here. Because I definitely wouldn’t have come.”

“Well,” said Patrick, “I wish
you
had taken a look at chapter six in the
D and G.
And chapter twelve, ‘Zoom Like You Mean It.’ It’s all there, Cheeto, in perfect black and white. Maybe somebody should’ve done her homework.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad.” I didn’t appreciate the lecture. Even if, deep down, I kind of knew he was right. Maybe if I hadn’t ignored the stupid Dumb & Dumber handbook at Slice, I would have found a way to get in touch with someone with actual authority. A person who would listen to me and let me explain that there had been a terrible mistake.

I’m not supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to die. Not yet. Not this way.

Patrick laughed loudly. “Remember when I told you there was going to be a test?” He stood up and held out his arms. “Well, surprise! This is it.” Then he saw the panic in my face. “Don’t worry. It’s scary the first time, I know, but it gets easier. And soon . . .” His eyes sparkled. “Soon it starts to get
fun.
”

“I can’t do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t.”

“Crede quod habes, et habes.”

“What language are you speaking, Nerd?”

He smiled. “Latin. ‘Believe that you have it, and you do.’”

His voice was light. Playful. As usual, not helping.

“On ten.”

“Okay, ten. You’re a funny kid, Aubrie Eagan.”

“It’s
Brie
.”

“One . . . Two . . . Three . . .”

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t count so fast—”

“Four.”

“No seriously, stop—”

“Five . . .”

“I said I’m not—” My knees started to go weak and my vision turned that horrible shade of sickly green—the green that means you’re going to faint in about two seconds. The sounds of the ocean crashing below mixed with the roar of the traffic made my stomach turn.

“Hey, you all right?” Patrick leaned down next to me. “You seem a little, um, pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, gripping the steel with all my might, desperate to hang on. “Never been better.” I tried to brush the hair out of my face. Not that it helped much, the way the wind was howling up here. We may as well have been on the top of Mount Everest. “So, what, is this like your perfect vision of heaven or something?”

He met my eyes. “It is now.”

I felt myself blush, despite being sick with fear. Didn’t have a clue what to say back, and decided to go with the lamest thing ever.

“So do you, uh . . . come up here often?”

Oh my GOD I did not just say that. Who SAYS that?

“I come up here whenever I need to think, or clear my head.” He paused. “Or whenever all the waiting starts to get to me.”

“Waiting? What are you waiting for?”

He hesitated for a moment, and looked out over the mountains. “A friend. I guess I’m waiting for an old friend.”

The sunlight shifted again, casting a streak of light across his left wrist. For a second, I couldn’t help staring at his scar. I’d never quite noticed just how intense it was, since his jacket tended to cover it. But with the way the light had fallen—and the way his sleeves were pushed up the tiniest bit—I could finally get a better look. For the first time, I saw how jagged and deep the scar really was. Almost like he’d been slashed with a piece of broken glass.

Whatever he had been through, it couldn’t have been good.

I realized right then, that in all of his knowing about me, I didn’t know a whole lot about him. Where he’d come from. Who he’d been. Even, though it made me queasy to think about it, how his life had ended.

Patrick caught me staring. Tugged a little at his jacket and pulled the sleeves down as much as he could.

“What happened to you?” As soon as the words were off my tongue, I realized I should’ve kept my question to myself.

“Bike accident,” he said. “Was driving a little too fast. No big deal.”

Just like Dad always said. Motorcycles are SO DANGEROUS.

I glanced down at my feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m over it. It was a long time ago.”

A gust of wind suddenly came barreling out of nowhere, catching me off guard. I gasped a little as it threw me, and I scrambled to hold on.

Except there was nothing to hold on to.

“Okay, I’ve officially changed my mind,” I announced. “I think I’ll take a rain check on this whole revenge thing. We’ve got plenty of time to get back at ol’ What’s-his-name. Why rush a good thing?” Slowly, carefully, I leaned back on the metal grating, trying to relax and think of good, happy things like Cocoa Puffs. Saturday mornings. Being Alive. “So yeah, I take it back. I don’t want to do this. Not today. I’d like to go back to Slice, please.”

“I hate to say it,” Patrick shouted over the wind, “but there’s kind of a problem.” He scooted over so he was sitting next to me.

“What do you mean, kind of a problem?” I felt the bridge lurch beneath me.

Breathe, Brie. Just breathe.

“The thing is, you’re not going to like it very much.”

“Say it.”

“Well . . .”

“
Say
it.”

“There’s sort of, um, only one way down.”

I stared at him for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.

“Oh, right! Has anyone ever told you that you are hilarious?”

He wasn’t smiling. “The unfortunate thing is,” he said with a guilty voice, “I’m not joking.”

I stopped laughing. “Wait. Excuse me?”

“Afraid so.”

“No.”

“Don’t fight it.”

“I’ll fight
you
.”

“Take my hand.” He reached over and tried to grab mine.

“No!”

“Brie, you have to.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’re going to be chilling up here for a very long time. Anyway, you know you want to show that ex-boyfriend a thing or two. And frankly . . .” He grinned. “So do I.”

“No, no, no, I
totally
do, definitely. Just not yet,” I pleaded with him. If I’d had a heart, it would’ve been pounding out of control in my chest. “I can’t,” I said. “I don’t mean, like, never. Just not today.” I hoped he could hear the panic in my voice. “Patrick, please. Just zoom us off of here or whatever. Take me back to Slice.”

BOOM–CRASH–HISS!
the ocean rang out below.

“Sorry, Cheesecake.” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t work that way. You’d already know this if you’d read your
D and G
. And anyway, I don’t buy your excuses.”

“Oh? And why is that?” I snapped.

Don’t mess with me, Angel Boy, I will destroy you.

“You’re afraid.” He nodded toward the edge. “But it’s time to leave the nest, little bird. It’s time to take the plunge.”

Oh my god he’s serious
.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole way.” He grinned. “You fall, I fall.”

I took a step away from him. “Do
not
come near me.”

“Take my hand.”

“Patrick, I mean it.”

His eyes burned into mine. “Take my hand.”

Before I could argue, he snapped me into his arms, locking me in.

“No! Stop it!”

“Open your eyes,” he whispered from behind me.

I shook my head and tried to struggle out of his arms.

“Come on. You really shouldn’t miss this.”

“Your
mom
really shouldn’t miss this.” I was running out of witty comebacks.
Not that I ever had any to begin with.

“Toes to the edge.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“A little late for that, Angel.” His lips were against my ear. “Look down.” I tried to struggle, but it didn’t matter. He was way too strong. I cried out and forced myself to look.

Oh, biggest mistake ever.

There was nothing but air. Nothing but the giant, deadly, freezing, bottomless San Francisco Bay, ready to swallow me up and shatter me into a thousand pieces.
Oh god,
we were so, so much higher than I thought.

Two inches.

I pushed back against him
. “No, no, no, no, NO.”

One inch.

I fought
.

Half an inch.

I wanted to wake up. I wanted to wake up right the eff now. The only problem with that scenario? This was no nightmare. Waking up was not an option.

I felt my ballet flats slip a little on the metal grating. I felt the wind kiss my cheek.