Noggin (30 page)
Authors: John Corey Whaley
“Still the best gift I ever got,” I said.
“You should have it back, Travis.”
“No. I like it right here.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. It’ll remind you of us.”
• • •
She was driving me home, and it had gotten much darker and colder out since Kyle had dropped us off, so cold that the windows were all fogged over and we were both shivering in our seats. We stopped at a red light on the
way, and I swear I could hear both our hearts beating. There are moments when you know something is going to happen and you know that the other person knows it too. These are the moments when you stop thinking and you just go for it.
When I died, I didn’t see anything. No bright lights or heavenly bodies or long, dark tunnels. But when I leaned in to kiss Cate Conroy in her freezing car while we were stopped at that red light, I saw every single moment of everything. I felt every single thing I’ve ever felt and heard every sound I’ve ever heard. And even when she turned her face so my lips touched her cold cheek in the dark, I knew I’d do it all again. I don’t know why, but I would.
“What the hell, Travis?” She pulled the car over onto the side of the road.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I . . .” Then I leaned toward her again.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” she yelled, pushing me. “This is never going to work. You can’t keep doing this.”
She was crying now, and I watched her there with her head turned down a little, with her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. I tried to touch her shoulder, but she waved me away and started crying even harder.
“You don’t get to do this,” she said through her tears. “You left.”
“Do you remember that snowstorm?” I asked, still watching her.
“What?” She looked up at me.
“That snowstorm. Before I got sick.”
“Yeah,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“You were at your house and I was at mine, and you called and said you were coming over. You remember that?”
“And you told me not to, yeah.”
“Right. They were calling it a blizzard on the news. I thought you’d lost your mind. But you insisted, said you were seeing me that night whether I liked it or not.”
“And I made it, didn’t I?” she asked, sitting up.
“You did. And do you remember what you said to me when you got there? Do you remember?” And though I was trying not to let it happen, I felt a tear escape from my eye.
“I said it would take a lot more than a little snow to keep me away from you.”
“What else did you say?”
“Travis, I can’t . . .”
“Please say it, Cate.”
“I said one of us would have to die. It would take dying to keep us apart.”
“At least you weren’t lying,” I said, opening my door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll walk the rest of the way. It’s three or four blocks. I’ll be fine.”
“Travis. Let me drive you. Don’t be immature.”
“I’m not being immature. I’m
sixteen
, Cate. I’m
not going to stop being sixteen until I grow up, don’t you get that?”
“I know, but—”
“And when you were sixteen, when you were like this, you said one of us would have to
die
for this to be over. Die, Cate. You said that. You all got five years that I didn’t get. Stop expecting me to be caught up to you. All I did was wake up. That’s it.”
I got out of the car, shut the door behind me, and then leaned down into the open window. She was still crying, shaking her head from side to side with that bottom lip in between her teeth. She looked over at me, and I looked back at her as I took a deep breath and managed a feeble smile.
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s okay.”
She drove away, and her taillights cast this red glow all over the street and on my arms and legs. I raised one hand up and sort of left it in the air, waving her good-bye. But I hoped she wasn’t looking back. I hoped it was like it was in Denver when she just turned away and kept walking. I needed it to be that way because as long as she kept looking back, I’d keep being there. I wouldn’t go anywhere else. I’d stay in one spot till she came back to me.
And of course it wasn’t okay. But that’s what we have to do, right? We have to tell people it’s okay even when we know it isn’t. That’s what we say to people we love when we realize that maybe we can’t have them the way we want them. I guess it was kind of like that with
everyone. For me, anyway. No one would ever be exactly who they’d been, and I’d never be exactly who I’d been either. I’d always be the miracle boy from Kansas City, wouldn’t I? That head kid from the news. Noggin. Travis Coates, who died but isn’t dead anymore.
ONE MONTH LATER
“Okay,” I say aloud to myself. “One game and then home.”
I feel a rush of cold air from the AC as I step inside, and even though I know it’s not there, I look to that same spot up front. No one’s dancing this time. There’s just the chaotic pulsating of blue and green and yellow lights accompanying the loud music. I think about stepping up to it and seeing what happens, maybe testing out Jeremy’s moves, but then I just laugh and walk past. That’s not why I’m here.
I’ve got a token in my hand. One token for one game, found it in the pocket of my blue jeans this morning at Dad’s place—a pair of jeans that haven’t been worn in five years. So now I’m here. And why shouldn’t I be? It’s a Saturday in March, and yesterday I became the first twenty-two-year-old to turn seventeen.
I can already hear the beeps and buzzes as I step
through the purple curtains. It’s weird how you can go years and years without hearing them and then as soon as you do, as soon as the familiar tones reach your ears, you feel everything—every awful moment and every great moment of your life—so fast and so heavy that you aren’t too sure you can keep moving. But then you do.
I let the token slide out of my hand, and the screen wakes up and shines a bright glow onto my face.
“Hello again,” I say.
The music gets louder and louder, and those words are flashing there like they have a million times before, telling me what I should do. So I grip the joystick. I take a deep breath. I nod my head. And I press start.
There are many people who helped make this ridiculous book work, especially when I thought it couldn’t.
Those people are, first and foremost, Namrata Tripathi—an editor and friend like no other, who worked tirelessly to help give Travis’s story a heartbeat. Thank you for always pushing me to be better than I think I can be.
Stephen Barr, my fearless superhero of an agent, who talked me down from many ledges along the way. And who always answers his text messages. And who never sleeps.
Justin Chanda and everyone at Atheneum and Simon & Schuster for letting me into your very large, hilarious, well-read family.
Ken Wright and Holly Goldberg Sloan, great friends who helped me fall in love with this absurd idea.
Michael McCartney for designing this cover, because—c’mon!
Adam Silvera, who let me read the entire first draft to him in one sitting and whose contagious belief in this story pushed me onward many, many times.
Charissa Sistrunk and Kimberly Powell for collectively being Cate Conroy.
Julie Murphy, whose Skype-calls-turned-author-therapy-sessions saved my life and whose words inspire me to aim higher and higher.
Many thanks to the following friends who helped along the way—who listened to ideas, read pages, inspired with their love for books, and offered welcome distraction:
Melanie Hines, Ben Jenkins, Ashley Bankston, Chase Cummings, Nate and Anna Nelson, Shalanda Stanley, Stephanie Wilkes, Ginger Phillips, Sarah Gundell, Amy Koester, Beth Towle, Mike Dodaro, and Josh Stabinsky.
A special thanks to every librarian, bookseller, fellow author, and reader who I’ve met over the past couple of years for letting me continue to be a part of this incredible world.
And, lastly, thank you to my big-hearted family (and anyone I forgot to list because, geez, I wrote a whole book so lay off me already) for the constant encouragement, enthusiasm, and love you all so selflessly give. If my head is ever cryogenically frozen, I hope you’re all still here when I get back.
Oh . . . and to Madelyn Claire Whaley—thanks for being patient with Uncle Corey while he worked on this book. We can ride bikes now.
Photo by Vania Stoyanova
JOHN COREY WHALEY
grew up in Louisiana. His debut novel, WHERE THINGS COME BACK, was the 2012 winner of the Michael L. Printz and the William C. Morris YA Debut Awards. You can learn more about him at
johncoreywhaley.com
and follow him on Twitter
@corey_whaley
.
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster, New York
WATCH VIDEOS, GET EXTRAS, AND READ EXCLUSIVES AT
ALSO BY JOHN COREY WHALEY
WHERE THINGS COME BACK
Thank you for reading this eBook.
Find out about free book giveaways, exclusive content, and amazing sweepstakes! Plus get updates on your favorite books, authors, and more when you join the Simon & Schuster Teen mailing list.
or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com/teen
ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
· An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division · 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020 ·
www.SimonandSchuster.com
· This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. · Copyright © 2014 by John Corey Whaley · “Head Over Heels,” Words and Music by Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith · © 1985 EMI VIRGIN MUSIC LTD. · All Rights for the US and Canada Controlled and Administered by EMI VIRGIN SONGS, INC. · All Rights Reserved International Copyright Secured Used by Permission ·
Reprinted by Permission of Hal Leonard Corporation
· All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. · ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. · Atheneum logo is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. · The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at
www.simonspeakers.com
. · The text for this book is set in Goudy Old Style. · Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data · Whaley, John Corey. · Noggin / John Corey Whaley. — 1st ed. · p. cm. · ISBN 978-1-4424-5872-7 (hardcover) · ISBN 978-1-4424-5874-1 (eBook) · [1. Science fiction. 2. Identity—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 4. Family life—Missouri—Kansas City—Fiction. 5. Transplantation of organs, tissues, etc.—Fiction. 6. Death—Fiction.] I. Title. · PZ7.W5458Nog 2014 · [Fic]—dc23 · 2013020137
Chapter One: Advanced Studies in Cranial Reanimation
Chapter Two: Welcome Back, Travis Coates
Chapter Three: From the Neck Down
Chapter Seven: A Place Like High School
Chapter Nine: Good-Bye, Travis
Chapter Ten: Any Damn Good Use For It
Chapter Eleven: You Only Live Twice