Before I Fall

She squeals and squirms away. I cant breathe! Youre crushing me.

Sorry, Fizzer. I reach back and unhook my grandmas bird necklace. Izzys eyes go huge and round.

Turn around, I say, and for once shes totally quiet and does what I say with no complaints, standing perfectly still while I lift her hair and fix the charm around her neck. She turns back to me, her face very serious, waiting for my opinion.

I give the necklace a tug. It falls halfway down her chest, sitting just to the right of her heart. It looks good on you, Fizz.

Are you giving it to mefor real real? Or just for today? Her voice is a hush, like were discussing state secrets.

It looks better on you, anyway. I put a finger on her nose, and she twirls away with her hands in the air like a ballerina.

Thanks, Sammy! Except, of course, it comes out Thammy.

Be good, Izzy. I stand up, throat tight, an aching in my whole body. I have to fight the urge to get down on my knees and squeeze her again.

She puts her hands on her hips like our mom does, mock-offended, sticking her nose in the air. Im always good. Im the best.

The best of the best.

Shes already turned around, running and sliding in her slippered feet back toward the kitchen, yelling, Look what Sammy gave me! with one hand cupped around the charm. Tears are blurring my vision so I cant see her clearly, just the pink of her pajamas and the golden ring of her hair.

Outside the cold burns my lungs and makes the pain in my throat worse. I take a deep breath, sucking in the smells of wood fires and gasoline. The sun is beautiful, long and low on the horizon like its stretching itself, like its shaking off a nap, and I know underneath this weak winter light is the promise of days that last until eight P.M. and pool parties and the smell of chlorine and burgers on the grill; and underneath that is the promise of trees lit up in red and orange like flames and spiced cider, and frost that melts away by noonlayers upon layers of life, always something more, new, deeper. It makes me feel like crying, but Lindsays already parked in front of the house, waving her arms and yelling, What are you doing? so instead I just keep walking, one foot in front of the other, one, two, three, and I think about letting goof the trees and the grass and sky and the red-streaked clouds on the horizonletting it all drop away from me like a veil. Maybe there will be something spectacular underneath.

A MIRACLE OF CHANCE AND COINCIDENCE, PART I

And so, I was like, listen, I dont care that its stupid, I dont care that its, like, a holiday invented by Hallmark or whatever. Lindsays rattling on about Patrick, punctuating her story by tapping the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. Shes perfectly in control again, hair swept back in a ponytail just messy enough, lip gloss slicked on, a mist of Burberry Brit Gold clinging to the puffy jacket shes wearing. Its strange to see her this way after last night, but at the same time Im glad. Shes cruel and frightened and proud and insecure, but shes still Lindsay Edgecombethe girl who freshman year took a key to Mari Tinsleys brand-new BMW after Mari called her a froshy prostitute, even though Mari had just been voted prom queen, and nobody, not even people in her own grade, would stand up to herand shes still my best friend, and despite everything I still respect her. And I know that however wrong shes beenabout a million things, about other people, about herselfshell figure it out. I know from the way she looked last night, with the shadows making a hollow of her face.

Maybe its just wishful thinking, but I like to believe, on some level, or in some world, what happened last night matters, that it didnt totally vanish. Sometimes Im afraid to go to sleep because of what Im leaving behind. Thinking about Kents words makes shivers dance up and down my spine. This is the first time in my life Ive ever missed kissing someone; the first time Ive ever woken up feeling like Ive lost something important.

Maybe hes freaking out because hes too into you, Elody pipes up from the backseat. Dont you think, Sam?

Uh-huh. Im savoring my coffee, drinking it slowly. A perfect morning, exactly how I would have chosen it: perfect coffee, perfect bagel, riding around in the car with two of my best friends, not really talking about anything, not really trying to talk about anything, just babbling on about the same stuff we always do, enjoying one anothers voices. The only thing thats missing is Ally.

I suddenly get the urge to drive around Ridgeview for a little bit longer. Partly I dont want the ride to end. Partly I just want to look at everything one last time.

Lindz? Can we stop at Starbucks? I, um, kind of want a latte. I take a few gulps of my coffee, trying to drain it, to make this more believable.

She raises her eyebrows. You hate Starbucks.

Yeah, well, I got a sudden craving.

You said it tastes like dog pee strained through a trash bag.

Elody gulps her coffee. Ewhello? Drinking. Eating. She waves her bagel dramatically.

Lindsay raises both hands. Thats a direct quote.

If Im late to poly sci one more time I swear Ill get detention for life, Elody says.

And youll miss the chance to suck face with Muffin before first, Lindsay says, snickering.

What about you? Elody pegs her with a piece of bagel, and Lindsay squeals. Its a miracle you and Patrick havent fused faces yet.

Come on, Lindsay. Please? I bat my eyelashes at her, then twist around to Elody. Pretty please?

Lindsay sighs heavily, locking eyes with Elody in the rearview mirror. She flicks on her turn indicator. I clap my hands and Elody groans.

Sam gets to do what she wants today, Lindsay says. After all, its her big day. She emphasizes the word big, then starts cracking up.

Elody picks up on it right away. I would say it was Robs big day, actually.

We can only hope. Lindsay leans over and elbows me.

Ew, I say. Perverts.

Lindays on a roll now. Its going to be loooong day.

A hard one, Elody adds.

Lindsay sprays some coffee out of her mouth and Elody shrieks. Theyre both snorting and laughing like maniacs.

Very funny, I say, looking out the window, watching the houses begin to stream together as we come into town. Very mature. But Im smiling, feeling happy and calm, thinking, You have no idea.

Theres a small parking lot behind the Starbucks in town, and we get the last spot, Lindsay slamming into it and nearly taking out the side mirrors of the two cars on either side of us, but still yelling, Gucci, baby, gucci, which she claims is Italian for perfect.

In my head Ive been saying good-bye to everything, all these places Ive seen so often I start to ignore them: the deli on the hill with perfect chicken cutlets and the trinket store where I used to buy thread to make friendship bracelets and the Realtors and the dentists and the little garden where Steve King put his tongue in my mouth in seventh grade, and I was so surprised I bit down. I cant stop thinking about how strange life is, about Kent and Juliet and even Alex and Anna and Bridget and Mr. Otto and Ms. Wintersabout how complex and connected everything is, all threaded together like some vast, invisible nettingand how sometimes you can think youre doing the right thing, but its actually terrible and vice versa.

We head into Starbucks and I get a latte. Elody gets a brownie, even though shes just eaten, and Lindsay puts a stuffed bear on her head and then orders a water without blinking while the barista stares at her like shes crazy, and I cant help but throw my arms around her, and she says, Save it for the bedroom, babe, making the old woman behind us inch away. We come out laughing and I almost drop my coffeeSarah Grundels brown Chevrolet is idling in the parking lot. Shes drumming her hands on the wheel, checking her watch, waiting for a spot to open up. The last spotthe spot we took.

Youve got to be freaking kidding me, I say out loud. Shell definitely be late now.

Lindsay catches me staring and misunderstands me. I know. If I had that car I totally wouldnt rock it past the driveway. I think Id rather walk.

No, I I shake my head, realizing I cant explain. As we pass, Sarah rolls her eyes and sighs, like, Finally. The humor of the situation hits me and I start to laugh.

Hows the latte? Lindsay asks as we climb back in the car.

Like dog pee strained through a trash bag, I say. We roll out of the spot, giving Sarah a little beep, and she huffs and zooms in as soon as were out of the way.

Whats her drama? Elody asks.

PNS, Lindsay says. Parking Need Syndrome.

As we pull out of the parking lot, it occurs to me that maybe its not so complicated at all. Most of the time99 percent of the timeyou just dont know how and why the threads are looped together, and thats okay. Do a good thing and something bad happens. Do a bad thing and something good happens. Do nothing and everything explodes.

And very, very rarelyby some miracle of chance and coincidence, butterflies beating their wings just so and all the threads hanging together for a minuteyou get the chance to do the right thing.

Heres the last thing that occurs to me as Sarah recedes in the rearview mirror, slamming out of the car, jogging across the parking lot: if youre one tardy away from missing out on a big competition, you should probably make your coffee at home.

When we get to school I have a few things to take care of in the Rose Room, so I split up with Elody and Lindsay. Then, because Im already late, I decide to skip the rest of first period. I wander through the halls and the campus, thinking how strange it is that you can live your whole life in one place and never really look at it. Even the yellow wallswhat we used to call the vomit hallwaysstrike me as pretty now, the slender bare trees in the middle of the quad elegant and sparse, just waiting for snow.

For most of my life its always seemed like the school day dragged on foreverexcept during quizzes and tests, when the seconds seemed to trip over themselves trying to run away quickly. Today its like that. No matter how badly I want for everything to go slowly, time is pouring away, hemorrhaging. Ive barely made it into the second question of Mr. Tierneys quiz before hes yelling, Time! and giving all of us his fiercest scowl, and I have to turn in my quiz only partially completed. I know it doesnt matter, but Ive given it my best shot anyway. I want to have one last day when everything is normal. A day like a million other days Ive had. A day when I turn in my chem quiz and worry about whether Mr. Tierney will ever make good on his threat to call BU. But I dont regret the quiz for long. Im past regretting things now.