Page 29 of The Two of Us

Shayla wheezes as if she’s never heard anything funnier in her life. Even Jackson chuckles at the insidious pun.

Cat takes a step forward, tapping her finger to her chin thoughtfully. “You know, I have heard that before. The whole, ‘ignore an animal if you want it to go away.’ But it must not work because I’ve been trying to ignore you since the day we met, Sasha.”

Sasha’s face goes sheet white.

“And if you’re wondering what animal you are, you can ask anyone. You’re a bitch.”

Sasha and Shayla gasp in unison and Cat snatches my hand, pulling me toward the bike. She climbs on my pegs and we barely make it to the first stop sign before we burst into a fit of laughter.

***

“When I die, bury me with chocolate.”

Cat and I sit on the curb outside of the convenience store, indulging in the weekly treats we buy with our leftover lunch money. I’ve already finished my Twix, but Cat’s savoring every bite of her king-size Snickers bar.

“I can definitely do that,” I say.

“But only Snickers. If you try to pull a fast one on me and throw in Kit Kats or something, I’ll come back from the grave and haunt you.”

I chuckle. “I wouldn’t dare try to deceive your ghost.”

She inhales a chunk of her Snickers and crumbs fall onto her chin. “What do you want it to be like when you die?” she mumbles, mouth full.

My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? I don’t think I have much say in the matter.”

“Like, what do you want to wear? Where do you want to be buried? What song do you want us to dance to in your honor?”

I fiddle with my shoelaces as I think. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. Have you?”

Cat snorts in amusement. “Absolutely. I want to wear a lavender dress. Like the one from Holly’s Greatest Adventure. I want to be buried under a huge tree. The biggest tree there is. So everyone can come and rest under me,” she says, a soft smile lining her face. “Oh, and my song of choice is hands down ‘Shake A Tail Feather.’”

I gape at her. “Why on earth would you want that song played at your funeral?”

“Because no one can stay sad listening to that song.”

“But Cat… it’s a funeral. It’s supposed to be sad.”

She contemplates that for a second. “No.” She shakes her head. “When I die, I don’t want people to be wrapped up in their sadness. I want them to remember the happy stuff. I want them to remember that I made them laugh. Made them dance.”

Before I can disagree, Cat stuffs the Snickers wrapper into her pocket and jumps up in front of me. She yanks me off the curb and begins twisting her hips, bending at the knees.

I can’t stop the giggles that escape my throat. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making you dance! This is how you’re going to remember me!”

She continues pulling on my arms, whipping her head back and forth to the nonexistent music. If it were anyone else, I’d be mortified. But when you’re around Cat, her confidence leaks onto you. It’s like she shields you with her self-assurance and you become bold by association. We dance together, right there in the middle of the parking lot, uncoordinated and unabashed. People leaving the convenience store pin us with wary stares, but we dance until our legs ache. And then we dance some more.

We take our time walking back to our neighborhood. I pull my bike alongside me, too exhausted to ride it with Cat on the back.

“Why do you think Ambrose hangs out with them?” I whisper.

I don’t need to provide context. Cat always understands my train of thought.

She sighs. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been himself lately. He’s so angry all the time.”

I think about that. He does seem different, but I’ve chalked it up to him becoming a high schooler. But Cat knows Ambrose like the back of her hand and sometimes it’s almost as if she’s the older sibling.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continues. “He’s been a total douchebag. But I think he’s carrying the weight of something heavy. He just won’t tell me what it is. I kinda feel sorry for him.”

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