Before I Fall Part 30

"Now?"

"Later." I pull back. Otherwise I won't be able to stop myself from kissing his neck. I don't know what's wrong with me. I was never never like this with Rob. I can barely keep my hands to myself around Kent. Maybe dying a few times messes with your hormones or something. I kind of like it. like this with Rob. I can barely keep my hands to myself around Kent. Maybe dying a few times messes with your hormones or something. I kind of like it.

His face gets serious again. "What you wrote here..." He fingers the note, folding it and unfolding it, his eyes dazzling, swirling with gold. "The last bit...the hero thing...how did you-?"

My heart is beating frantically, and for one second I think he knows-I think he remembers. The silence is heavy between us, everything past and remembered and forgotten and wanted swinging there like a pendulum. "How did I what?" I can barely breathe the words.

He sighs and shakes his head, gives me a weak smile. "Nothing. Forget it. It's stupid."

"Oh." I realize I've been holding my breath, and I exhale, looking away so he won't see how disappointed I am. "Thanks for your rose, by the way."

Of all the roses I've gotten it's the only one I kept. It's my favorite It's my favorite, I'd said, when Marian Sykes delivered it to me.

She looked up at me, startled, and then looked around, as though I couldn't possibly be talking to her. When she realized I was, she blushed and smiled.

You have so many, she said shyly.

The problem is I can never keep them alive, I said. I have, like, a black thumb. I have, like, a black thumb.

You have to cut the stems on an angle, she said eagerly, then blushed again. My sister taught me that. She used to like to garden. My sister taught me that. She used to like to garden. She turned away, biting her lip. She turned away, biting her lip.

You should take them, I said.

She stared at me for a second as though suspecting a joke. Like, to keep? Like, to keep? she said, reminding me of Izzy. she said, reminding me of Izzy.

I'm telling you, I can't have any more flower homicides on my conscience, I said. You could take them home. Do you have a vase? You could take them home. Do you have a vase?

She paused for a fraction of a second more and then broke into a dazzling smile, transforming her whole face. I'll keep them in my room I'll keep them in my room, she said.

Kent c.o.c.ks one eyebrow. "How do you know that I'm the one who sent it?"

"Come on." I roll my eyes. "No one else draws weird cartoons for a living."

He puts a hand on his chest, acting offended. "Not for a living. For the love of it. Besides, they're not weird."

"Whatever. Then thanks for your totally normal note."

"You're welcome." He grins. We're standing close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.

"So are you going to be my knight in shining armor or what?"

Kent does a little bow. "You know I can't resist a damsel in distress."

"I knew I could count on you." The hallways are empty now. Everyone is at lunch. For a moment we just stand there smiling at each other. Then something softens in his eyes and my heart soars. Everything in me feels fluttering and free, like I could take off from the ground at any second. Music, Music, I think, I think, he makes me feel like music. he makes me feel like music. Then I think, Then I think, He's going to kiss me right here, in the math wing of Thomas Jefferson High School, He's going to kiss me right here, in the math wing of Thomas Jefferson High School, and I almost pa.s.s out. and I almost pa.s.s out.

He doesn't, though. Instead he reaches out and touches my shoulder once, lightly. When he removes his fingers I can still feel them tingling on my skin. "Until tonight, then." A flicker of a smile. "Your secret better be good."

"It's amazing, I promise." I wish I could memorize every single thing about him. I want to burn him into my mind. I can't believe how blind I was for so long. I start to back away before I do something wildly inappropriate, like jump on top of him.

"Sam?" he stops me.

"Yeah."

His eyes are doing that searching thing again, and now I understand why he told me before that he could see through me. He's actually been paying attention. I feel like he's reading my mind right now, which is more than a little embarra.s.sing, since most of my thoughts for the moment involve how perfect his lips are.

He bites his lip and shuffles his feet a little. "Why me? For tonight, I mean. We haven't really talked in, like, seven years...."

"Maybe I'm making up for lost time." I keep backing away from him, skipping a little.

"I'm serious," he says. "Why me?"

I think of Kent holding my hand in the dark, leading me through rooms crisscrossed with moonlight. I think of his voice lulling me to sleep, carrying me off like a tide. I think of time stilling as he cupped my face and brought his lips to mine.

"Trust me," I say, "it can only be you."

SECOND CHANCES.

Kent's Valogram was only the first of several adjustments I made in the Rose Room this morning, and as soon as I enter the cafeteria I can tell that Rob got his. He breaks away from his friends and lopes up to me before I can even make it over to the lunch line (where I'm planning on ordering a double roast beef sandwich). As always, his stupid Yankees hat is barely balanced on his head, twisted around to the side like he's in some rap video from 1992.

"Hey, babe." He goes to put his arm around me, and I step away casually. "Got your rose."

"Thanks. I got yours too."

He looks around, sees a single rose looped through the handle of my messenger bag, and frowns. "Is that mine?"

I shake my head, smiling sweetly.

He rubs his forehead. He always does this when he's thinking, like the act of actually using his mind gives him a headache. "What happened to all your roses?"

"They're in storage," I say, which is kind of true.

He shakes his head, letting it go. "So there's a party tonight...." He trails off, then tips his head and smirks at me. "I thought it would be fun to go for a bit." He reaches out and clomps a hand on my shoulder, ma.s.saging me hard. "Like, you know, foreplay."

Only Rob would think that pounding foamy beer from a keg and screaming at each other counts as foreplay, but I decide to let it go and play along. "Foreplay?" I say, as innocently as I can.

He obviously thinks I'm being flirtatious. He smiles and tilts his head backward, looking at me through half narrowed eyes. I used to think it was the cutest thing when he did this; now it's a bit like watching a linebacker try to samba. He might have all the moves down, but it just doesn't look right.

"You know," he says quietly, "I really liked what you wrote in your note."

"Did you?" I make my voice a purr, thinking about what I scrawled out this morning. You don't have to wait for me anymore. You don't have to wait for me anymore.

"So I was thinking I'd get to the party at ten, stay for an hour or two." He shrugs and adjusts his hat, back to business now that he got the flirting out of the way.

I feel suddenly tired. I'd been planning to mess with Rob a little-to get back at him for not paying attention, for not being there, for not caring about anything except partying and lacrosse and how he looks in his stupid Yankees hat-but I can't keep up the game anymore. "I don't really care what you do, Rob."

He hesitates. This was not the answer he was expecting. "You're sleeping over tonight, though, right?"

"I don't think so."

His hand flies up to his forehead again: more rubbing. "But you said..."

"I said you didn't have to wait for me anymore. And you don't." I suck in a deep breath. One, two, three, jump. One, two, three, jump. "This isn't working out, Rob. I want to break up." "This isn't working out, Rob. I want to break up."

He takes a step backward. His face goes completely white, and then he turns bright red from the forehead down, like someone's filling him with Kool-Aid. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm breaking up with you." I've never done anything like this before, and I'm surprised by how easy I'm finding it. Letting go is easy: it's all downhill. "I just don't think it's working out."

"But-but-" he sputters at me. The confusion on his face is replaced by rage. "You can't break up with me."

I unconsciously shuffle backward, crossing my arms. "Why's that?"

He looks at me like I'm the dumbest person alive. "You," "You," he says, almost spitting the word, "cannot break up with he says, almost spitting the word, "cannot break up with me me."

Then I get it. Rob does does remember. He remembers that in sixth grade he said I wasn't cool enough for him-remembers it, and still believes it. Any sympathy I still feel for him vanishes in that moment, and as he's standing there, bright red with his fists clenched, it amazes me how ugly I find him. remember. He remembers that in sixth grade he said I wasn't cool enough for him-remembers it, and still believes it. Any sympathy I still feel for him vanishes in that moment, and as he's standing there, bright red with his fists clenched, it amazes me how ugly I find him.

"I can do it," I say calmly. "I just did."

"And I waited waited for you. I waited for you for for you. I waited for you for months. months." He turns away and mutters something I don't hear.

"What?"

He looks back at me, his face twisted with disgust and anger. This cannot be the same person who a week ago nestled against my shoulder and told me I was his personal blanket. It's like his face has dropped away and there's a totally different face underneath.

"I said I should have screwed Gabby Haynes when she asked me to over break," he says coldly.

Something flares in my stomach, leftover pain or pride, but it pa.s.ses quickly enough and is replaced again by a feeling of calm. I'm already gone from here, already flying over this, and I can suddenly understand exactly what Juliet feels, must have felt for some time. Thinking about her brings my strength back, and I even manage to smile.

"It's never too late for second chances," I say sweetly, and then I walk away to have my last lunch with my best friends.

Ten minutes later, when I'm finally sitting down at our usual table-scarfing an enormous roast beef sandwich with mayonnaise and a plate full of fries, hungrier than I've been in a long time-and Juliet comes through the cafeteria, I see she has placed a single rose in the empty water bottle that is strapped to the side of her backpack. She's looking around, too, her face cutting the curtain of her hair in two, checking each and every table she pa.s.ses, searching, looking for clues. Her eyes are bright and alert. She's chewing her lip, but she doesn't look unhappy. She looks alive alive. My heart skips a beat: this is the important thing.

As she weaves past our table, I see a folded note fluttering just under the petals of her rose, and even though I'm too far away to read it, I can see what's written there clearly, even when I close my eyes. A single phrase.

It's never too late.

"So what's up with you today?" Lindsay asks on the way to The Country's Best Yogurt. We've almost reached the Row, the line of small shops cl.u.s.tered at the crest of the hill like mushrooms. The blanket of dark clouds is being drawn over the horizon inch by inch, bringing the promise of snow.

"What do you mean?" We're walking arm-in-arm, trying to stay warm. I wanted Ally and Elody to come along, but Elody had a Spanish test, and Ally insisted that if she missed another English cla.s.s she'd probably get suspended. I didn't make a big deal out of it.

A day like any other.

"I mean, why are you acting so weird?"

I'm trying to formulate an answer and Lindsay goes on, "Like, zoning out at lunch and stuff." She bites her lip. "I got this text from Amy Weiss...."

"Yeah?"

"Amy Weiss is obviously crazy, and I would never believe anything she says, especially about you," Lindsay qualifies quickly.

"Obviously," I say, amused, pretty sure I know where this is headed.

"But..." Lindsay sucks in a deep breath and says in a rush, "She says she was talking to Steve Waitman, who was talking to Rob, who said that you broke up?" Lindsay shoots a glance at me and forces a laugh. "I told her it was bulls.h.i.t, obviously."

I pause, choosing my words carefully. "It's not bulls.h.i.t. It's true."

Lindsay stops walking and stares. "What?" "What?"

"I broke up with him at lunch."

She shakes her head like she's trying to dislodge the words from her brain. "And, um, were you planning on sharing sharing this little piece of news at some point? With your this little piece of news at some point? With your best friends best friends? Or were you just counting on it to make the rounds eventually?"

I can tell she's really hurt. "Listen, Lindsay, I was going to tell you-"

She presses her hands to both ears, still shaking her head. "I don't understand. What happened? You guys were supposed to-I mean, you told me you wanted to-tonight."

I sigh. "This is why I didn't want to tell you, Lindz. I knew you'd make a big deal out of it."

"That's because it is is a big deal." a big deal."

Lindsay's so outraged she's not even paying attention as we pa.s.s Hunan Kitchen: she's too busy glaring at me like she expects me to suddenly turn blue or combust, like I can never be trusted again.

It occurs to me she's really really going to feel that way after I do what I'm about to do, but it can't be helped. I turn to her, putting my arms on her shoulders. "Wait here for a second, okay?" going to feel that way after I do what I'm about to do, but it can't be helped. I turn to her, putting my arms on her shoulders. "Wait here for a second, okay?"

She blinks at me. "Where are you going?"

"I have to stop in Hunan Kitchen for a second." I brace myself, waiting for her to freak out. "I kind of have something for Anna Cartullo."

I'm prepared for her to scream or stalk off or throw gummy bears at me or something something, but instead her face goes totally blank like the power switch has been flipped off. I'm kind of worried she may be going into shock, but the opportunity is too good to pa.s.s up.

"Two minutes," I say. "I promise."

I duck into Hunan Kitchen before Lindsay-and her att.i.tude-can come back online. A bell jingles on the door as I walk in. Alex looks up, worried for a second, and then plasters a smile on his face.

"What's up, Sam?" he drawls. Idiot.

I ignore him and go straight to Anna. She has her head bent, pushing the food around her plate. It's a lot safer than eating it, that's for sure.

"Hey." I'm nervous for some reason. There's something unsettling about her quietness, the way she lifts her eyes and stares at me with no expression. It reminds me of Juliet. "I just came by to give you something."

"Give me something?" She curls her lip back, skeptical, and the resemblance to Juliet is no longer so strong. She must think I'm crazy. As far as she knows we've never exchanged a word in our lives, and I can only imagine what she thinks I want to give her.

Alex is looking back and forth from Anna to me, as confused as she is. I'm aware of Lindsay watching me through the grimy window, and the fact that three people are staring at me like I've lost it is a little overwhelming. I reach into my bag, hands trembling a little bit.

"Yeah, listen, I know it's weird. I can't really explain it, but..." I pull out a big book of M. C. Escher sketches and put it on the table next to the bowl of sesame chicken. Or orange beef. Or cooked cat. Or whatever.