Before I Fall Part 25

"...to Juliet?"

I've been totally zoning out, thinking thinking about Juliet, that for a second when I hear her name I think I've only imagined it-or worse, said it aloud myself. But then I see that Lindsay's looking at Ally, a strange smile curling on her lips, and I know she must have just asked about whether Juliet got our rose. I totally forgot that Ally and Juliet have biology together, and I'm suddenly breathless. The room seems to tilt as I wait for Ally to respond. about Juliet, that for a second when I hear her name I think I've only imagined it-or worse, said it aloud myself. But then I see that Lindsay's looking at Ally, a strange smile curling on her lips, and I know she must have just asked about whether Juliet got our rose. I totally forgot that Ally and Juliet have biology together, and I'm suddenly breathless. The room seems to tilt as I wait for Ally to respond. Oh my G.o.d, you guys, it was the weirdest thing...she got the biggest bouquet of flowers...she actually Oh my G.o.d, you guys, it was the weirdest thing...she got the biggest bouquet of flowers...she actually smiled. smiled.

Ally claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes bugging out. "Oh my G.o.d, you guys. I totally forgot to tell you-"

Hands clamp down over my eyes and I'm so wound up I let out a little squeal. The hands smell like grease and-of course-lemon balm. Lindsay, Ally, and Elody crack up as Rob pulls his hands off my eyes. When I look up at him he's smiling, but there's a tightness around his eyes and I can tell he's unhappy.

"You avoiding me now?" he says, snapping the strap of my tank top like he's five.

"Not exactly," I say, trying to sound pleasant. "What do you mean?"

He jerks his head back toward the soda machine. "I've been standing over there for, like, fifteen minutes." His voice is low; he's clearly not happy to be having this conversation in front of my friends. "You haven't looked over or come over or anything."

You made me wait longer than that, I want to say, but obviously he wouldn't get it. Besides, as I watch him shuffling his scuffed-up New Balance sneakers, I realize he's not really so horrible. Yeah, he's selfish and not-so-smart and drinks too much and flirts with other girls and can't take off a bra for the life of him, not to mention what comes afterward, but someday he'll grow up a little and make a girl really happy.

"I'm not ignoring you, Rob, it's just..." I blow air out of my cheeks, stalling. I've never broken up with anybody before, and all the cliches keep running through my head. It's not you, it's me It's not you, it's me. (No-it is him. And And me.) me.) We're better off friends We're better off friends. (We were never friends.) "Things between us have been..."

He squints at me like he's trying to read in a different language. "You got my rose, right? Fifth period? You read the note?"

Like this will make it better. "Actually," I say, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice, "I didn't get your rose. I cut fifth."

"Miss Kingston." Across the table, Elody puts her hand to her chest and pretends to be shocked. "I am very disappointed in you." More giggling.

I shoot her a look and turn back to Rob. "But that's not the point. The point is-"

"I didn't get a rose from you," Rob says, and I can see him very slowly starting to put it together: something is wrong. When Rob thinks, you can almost see gears s.h.i.+fting together in his brain.

This morning I made one other change in the Rose Room. I stopped by the C C's and carefully rifled through Rob's roses-skipping over the rose from Gabby Haynes, his ex-girlfriend, which said, When are we going to hang out like you promised, s.e.xy? When are we going to hang out like you promised, s.e.xy?-and removed the one from me, with the little note I spent hours agonizing over.

Lindsay slaps at Rob's arm, still thinking this is all a joke. "Be patient, Rob," she says, winking at him. "Your rose is coming."

"Patient?" Rob scowls as though the word tastes bad in his mouth. He crosses his arms and stares at me. "I get it. There is no rose, right? Did you forget or something?"

Something in his voice makes my friends finally get it. They go silent, staring back and forth from Rob to me, me to Rob.

Let me rephrase: someday he'll make a sorority sorority girl really happy, a blonde named Becky with D b.o.o.bs who doesn't mind getting man-handled like meat in a marinade. girl really happy, a blonde named Becky with D b.o.o.bs who doesn't mind getting man-handled like meat in a marinade.

"I didn't forget forget-" I start to say, but he cuts me off.

His voice is calm, very low, but I can hear the anger running underneath it-hard and cold and cutting. "You make such a huge deal about Cupid Day. And then you don't keep up your end of the bargain. Typical."

Inside, my stomach is working like it's trying to digest a whole cow, but I lift my chin, staring at him. "Typical? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know." Rob pa.s.ses a hand over his eyes and looks suddenly mean, reminding me of this trick my dad used to do where he would bring his hand down over his face, changing all of his features from happy to sad, then from sad back to happy, in an instant. "You don't exactly have a perfect history of keeping your promises-"

"Psycho alert," Lindsay shouts out, probably hoping to diffuse the tension.

It works, kind of. I stand up so quickly I knock over my chair. Rob looks at me, disgusted, then taps the chair with his toe-not hard, but enough so that it's loud-and says, "Find me later."

He stalks off into the cafeteria, but I'm not watching him anymore. I'm watching Juliet float, drift, skim into the room. Like she's already dead and we're just seeing her flickering back to life in patches, imperfectly.

She's not carrying anything, either, not a single stem, just a lumpy brown paper bag as always. My disappointment is so heavy and real I can taste taste it, a bitter lump in the back of my throat. it, a bitter lump in the back of my throat.

"...And then one of the Cupids came in, and I swear, she had, like, three dozen flowers, all for Juliet."

I whip around. "What did you say?"

Ally frowns a little at my tone of voice, but she repeats, "She just got, like, this huge bouquet of roses delivered to her. I've never seen so many roses." She starts to giggle. "Maybe Psycho has a stalker."

"I just don't understand what happened to our our rose," Lindsay says, pouting. "I specifically told them third period, bio." rose," Lindsay says, pouting. "I specifically told them third period, bio."

"What did she do with them?" I interject.

Ally, Elody, and Lindsay stare at me. "Do with what?" Ally says.

"The roses. Did she-did she throw them out?"

"Why do you care?" Lindsay wrinkles her nose.

"I just-I don't don't care. It's just..." They're all staring at me blankly. Elody has her mouth open and I can see mushed-up french fries in it. "I think it's nice, okay? If someone sent her all those roses...I don't know. I just think it's nice." care. It's just..." They're all staring at me blankly. Elody has her mouth open and I can see mushed-up french fries in it. "I think it's nice, okay? If someone sent her all those roses...I don't know. I just think it's nice."

"She probably sent them herself," Elody says, starting to giggle again.

I finally lose my temper. "Why? Why would you say that?"

Elody jerks back like I've hit her. "I'm just-it's Juliet Juliet."

"Yeah, exactly. It's Juliet Juliet. So what's the point? n.o.body gives a s.h.i.+t about her. n.o.body pays any attention." I lean forward, pressing both hands on the table, my head pounding from anger and frustration. "What's. The. Point?"

Alley frowns at me. "Is this because you're upset about Rob?"

"Yeah." Lindsay folds her arms. "What's up with that anyway? Are you guys okay?"

"This isn't about Rob," I say, squeezing the words out through gritted teeth.

Elody jumps in. "It was a joke, Sam. Yesterday you said you were scared Juliet would bite you if you went too close. You said she probably had rabies."

That's what really breaks me-right then, when Elody says that. Or rather, when she reminds me that I said that: yesterday, six days ago, a whole different world world ago. How is it possible, I think, to change so much and not be able to change anything at all? That's the very worst thing about all of this, a feeling of desperate hopelessness, and I realize my question to Elody is the question that's been tearing me up all along. What's the point? If I'm dead-if I can't change anything, if I can't fix it- ago. How is it possible, I think, to change so much and not be able to change anything at all? That's the very worst thing about all of this, a feeling of desperate hopelessness, and I realize my question to Elody is the question that's been tearing me up all along. What's the point? If I'm dead-if I can't change anything, if I can't fix it-what's the point?

"Sam's right." Lindsay winks at me, still not getting it. "It's Cupid Day, you know? A time of love and forgiveness, even for the psychos of the world." She raises a rose like it's a gla.s.s of champagne. "To Juliet."

Ally and Elody lift their roses, giggling. "To Juliet," they say in unison.

"Sam?" Lindsay raises an eyebrow. "Care to toast with us?"

I spin around and head to the back of the senior section, to the door that leads directly to the parking lot. Lindsay shouts something, and Ally calls, "She didn't throw them out, okay?"

I keep going anyway, threading past tables piled with food and roses and bags, everyone talking and laughing, oblivious. I get a pang in my stomach that feels like regret. Everything looks so stupidly, happily normal: everyone just wasting time because they have so much of it to waste, minutes slipping by on who's with who who's with who and and did you hear did you hear.

On the horizon is the black line of clouds, just sitting there, a curtain about to be closed. I scan the parking lot, looking for Juliet, bouncing up and down on my toes to keep warm. Music blares from a car in Senior Alley and I recognize Krista Murphy's silver Taurus gun up toward the exit. Otherwise the parking lot is still. Juliet has melted away somewhere into the landscape of metal and pavement.

I take a breath and exhale a cloud, enjoying the sharp sting of the air on my throat. I'm almost relieved that Juliet is gone. I'm not sure exactly what I would have said to her. And she didn't throw out the flowers, after all. That's a good sign. I stand there for a second more, bouncing on my toes, thinking, Tonight's the night I'm going to get free of this thing Tonight's the night I'm going to get free of this thing. Thinking of all the things I'm going to do more of in my life. Go up to Goose Point with Izzy, until she's too old to stand it. Hang out with Elody one-on-one. Drive into New York and go to a Yankees game with Lindsay, and stuff my face with hot dogs and catcall all the players.

Kiss Kent. Really kiss him, slow and long, somewhere outside-maybe while it's snowing. Maybe standing in the woods. He'll lean forward and he'll have little snowflakes on his eyelashes again and he'll brush the hair away from my face and put a warm hand behind my neck, so warm it's almost burning- "Hey, Sam." Kent's voice.

I spin around with a squeak, tripping on my own feet. Just like with Juliet Sykes, I'm so lost in fantasy about Kent that his actual appearance seems like a dream or wishful thinking. He's wearing an old corduroy blazer with patches sewn onto the elbows like a deranged-and adorable-English teacher. The corduroy looks soft and I get the urge to reach out and touch it, an urge that has nothing to do with my general sense of today and the preciousness of things.

Kent's hands are buried in his pockets, and his shoulders are shrugged toward his ears like he's trying to stay warm. "No calculus today?"

"Um...no." I've been waiting to run into him all day, but now my mind is a blank.

"That's too bad." Kent grins at me, jogging on his feet. "You missed some roses." He whips his bag over one shoulder and unzips it, pulling out the cream-and-pink-swirled rose with a gold note card fluttering from one end. "A few of them went back to the office, I think. But I-uh, I wanted to bring this one to you myself. It's a little crushed. Sorry."

"It's not crushed," I say quickly. "It's beautiful."

He bites the edge of his lip-the cutest thing I've ever seen. I think he might be nervous. His eyes are flitting over my face and then away, and each time they land on me it feels like the world is falling away and it's just the two of us in the middle of a bright, green field.

"You didn't miss anything in math," he says, and I recognize a Kent McFuller babble coming on. "I mean, we went over some of the stuff from Wednesday's homework because some people were, like, freaking out about the quiz on Monday. But mostly everyone was a little bit antsy, I think because of Cupid Day, and Daimler didn't really care that-"

"Kent?"

He blinks and shuts up. "Yeah?"

"Did you send me this?" I hold up the rose. "I mean, is it from you?"

His smile gets so big it's like a huge beam of suns.h.i.+ne. "I'll never tell," he says, winking.

I've unconsciously taken several steps toward him, so I can feel the heat coming off his body. I wonder what he would do if I pulled him to me right now, brushed my lips against his the way he did-the way I hope he did-last night. But even the idea sends a flurry of b.u.t.terflies upward from my stomach, my whole body feeling quivery and uncertain.

At that moment I remember what Ally said to us on the first day, the day it all started: that if a group of b.u.t.terflies takes off in Thailand it can cause rainstorms in New York. And I think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here, facing Kent, holding a pink-and-cream-swirled rose, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.

"Thank you," I blurt out, and quickly add, "you know...for bringing me this."

He ducks his head, looking pleased and embarra.s.sed. "No problem."

"I, um, hear you're having a party tonight?" I'm mentally kicking myself for sounding so lame. In my head, this played out so much easier. In my head, he would lean down and do the thing with his lips again, the soft fluttery thing. I'm desperate to make it all go right again, desperate to get back to that feeling I had last night-we had last night, he had last night, he must must have felt it-but I'm afraid that anything I say could screw it up. A temporary sadness for what I've lost overwhelms me. Somewhere in the endless spinning of eternity that one, tiny, fraction of a second where our lips met is lost forever. have felt it-but I'm afraid that anything I say could screw it up. A temporary sadness for what I've lost overwhelms me. Somewhere in the endless spinning of eternity that one, tiny, fraction of a second where our lips met is lost forever.

"Yeah." His face lights up. "Parents out of town, you know. Are you coming?"

"Definitely," I say, so forcefully he looks kind of startled. "I mean," I continue at a normal volume, "it's going to be the place to be, right?"

"Let's hope so." Kent's voice is slow and warm, like syrup, and I wish I could close my eyes and just listen to it. "I got two kegs." He twirls his finger in the air like, whoop-dee-doo whoop-dee-doo.

"I would come anyway." I mentally kick myself: what does that even mean mean?

Kent looks like he gets it, though, because he blushes. "Thanks," he says. "I was hoping you would. I mean, I figured you would because you're always at parties, you know, out and stuff, but I didn't know if there was another party or something, or maybe you and your friends do something different on Fridays-"

"Kent?"

He does that adorable quick stop of his mouth. "Yeah?"

I lick my lips, unsure of how to say what I want to, squeezing my hands into fists.

"I-I have something to tell you."

He puckers his forehead. Adorable-how did I not realize how adorable he is?-and not making it any easier.

Deep breaths, in and out. "It's going to sound completely insane, but-"

"Yeah?" He leans even closer, until our lips are less than four inches apart. I can smell peppermint candy on his breath, and my head starts spinning wildly like it's been turned into a gigantic merry-go-round.

"I, um, I-"

"Sam!"

Kent and I both instinctively take one step back as Lindsay shoulders her way out of the cafeteria door, my messenger bag and hers slung over one arm. I'm actually grateful for the interruption, since I was either about to confess that I died a few days ago or that I was falling for him.

Lindsay lumbers over, being really melodramatic about the fact that she's carrying two bags, like they're both made out of iron. "So are we going?"

"What?"

Her eyes flit momentarily over Kent, but other than that she doesn't even acknowledge him. She plants herself almost directly in front of him like he's not even there, like he's not worth her time, and when Kent looks away and pretends not to notice I feel sick. I want to convey, somehow, that she isn't me-that I know he's worth my time. He's better than my time.

"Are we going to The Country's Best Yogurt or what?" She puts a hand on her stomach and makes a face. "I swear to G.o.d, those fries gave me bloat that can only be solved by chemical deliciousness."

Kent gives me a quick nod and starts to walk away, no good-bye, no nothing, just trying to get out of there as fast as he can.

I duck around Lindsay and call out, "Bye, Kent! See you later!"

He turns around quickly, surprised, and gives me a huge smile. "Later, Sam." He touches his head, a salute, like one of those guys in an old black-and-white movie, and then he lopes off back into Main.

Lindsay watches him for a minute, then looks at me and narrows her eyes. "What's up with that? Kent stalk you into submission yet?"

"Maybe," I say, because I don't care what Lindsay thinks. I'm buzzing from his smile and being so close to him. I feel light and invincible, the best kind of tipsy.

She stares at me for one beat longer and then just shrugs. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a brick through the window." Then she slips her arm through mine. "Yogurt?"

And that, for all her million and one faults, is why I love Lindsay Edgecombe.

THE ROOT AND BUD.

"Come on, Sam." Lindsay's looking up at Kent's house greedily, like it's made out of chocolate. "Your face looks fine."

I'm checking my makeup for the fiftieth time in the flip-down mirror. I put a final slick of lip gloss on and fish a gummy piece of mascara from the corner of my eyelashes, practicing the speech I've rehea.r.s.ed in my head. Listen, Kent, this may sound random, but I was wondering if you, you know, wanted to hang out sometime.... Listen, Kent, this may sound random, but I was wondering if you, you know, wanted to hang out sometime....

"I don't get it." Ally leans forward from the backseat, her Burberry puffy jacket crackling. "If you're not going to do it with Rob, what are you freaking out about?"

"I'm not freaking out," I say. Despite the fact that I've put on cream blush and moisturizer with a slight tint, I look vampire-pale.