Page 98 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
“Now just listen to me, Sara. Focus on my voice and do what I say. I want you to lower yourself down into a squat,” I instruct. “As gently as you can manage.”
A squeak slips out of her. “I can’t do that.”
“You can. Sara, you are so strong. But you need to get your center of gravity low. Keep both your arms out in front of you. If the ice breaks, you’ve gotta grab the sides and hold on until I get to you. I promise I’ll get to you. Even if I have to go into the water myself.”
“No!” she screams. “Go back!”
“Can’t do that. You’re not alone. Do you hear me, Sara Hathaway? You arenotalone. I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.” I’m so close. Just one more foot, and my homemade life preserver will be long enough to reach her. As gingerly as I can, I lift my hoodie string, boots dangling from the end.
“I’m going to toss this to you now,” I tell her. “Catch the boot. Hold on tight. That’s all you have to do.”
“Okay,” she sobs, hands shaking, preparing for me to throw. As the spiderweb of cracks between us expands, I heave the boot.
“Three!” she screams. The glass beneath her splits into an open mouth, and she plummets into the icy water.
Chapter Forty-Six
Sara
Ten Years Ago: October
We moved into Branner Hall more than a month ago, and Bristol still hasn’t given up trying to get me to go out with her. She joked that she might as well be rooming with a zombie, but I actually feel pretty dead inside.
I’ve already turned down all the parties and group dates. Even the low-key hangouts on our floor. And I’m sure she means well, but the girl is relentless. She insists that meeting other students is a critical part of the freshman experience, not to mention the onlyway I’ll ever be able to move on with my life.
I told her I’m just not ready. She said I’ll never be ready until I try.
Yesterday, she put a box of Band-Aids on my desk then told me to put them all on, so we could rip them off together.
When I didn’t laugh, she explained the symbolism, like I’m just too sad and pathetic to get her jokes. I’ll give her that: Bristol Kane is funny, and whip-smart, and have I mentioned relentless?
She’s a dog and getting me to be social is her bone. But I’m just not interested in spending time with anyone else unless it’s for class.Study sessions, I’ll do. But only if there’s zero chance of romance.
All I care about now is getting straight A’s this year. And landing the perfect summer internship. And never letting myself care about another man again.
Poor Bristol.She definitely deserves a better roommate than me.
And I sure deserved better than Three.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sara
I’ve heard reports that freezing is surprisingly painless. Peaceful, even. Emily Dickinson, my favorite poet, writes about the feeling being something like a strange kind of contentment. Still as stone. Quartz, specifically. First the chill. Then the stupor. Then the letting go.
For me, plunging into Abie Lake is none of those things.
Instead of peace, there are needles. Thousands of them—no, millions—stabbing every inch of my body. A throb that steals all the air from my lungs. I gasp and gasp, but I can’t catch my breath. Still, my hands instinctively scramble. Grasping. Flailing. During one desperate lunge, I snatch at Three’s boot—at least I think it’s a boot. And for a moment, I manage to latch on to an edge of ice, too. But my gloves are too slippery. So I kick and buck, like a fish on a line. The thing is, fish don’t have skates, and they aren’t wearing layers of heavy clothing intended to keep people warm. My jacket and pants are gulping up water, weighing me down.
Surrender is tempting. A swifter end to the stinging. But Three calls out for me to hold on.
“I can’t lose you,” he shouts. “I can’t lose you!”
Over and over.
He can’t lose me.
So I won’t give up.
