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
“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
Similar Books
