Chasing Brooklyn

by Schroeder, Lisa

• ISBN13: 9781416991687
• ISBN10: 1416991689
• Edition: 1st
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2010-01-05
• Publisher: Simon Pulse

Summary

Restless souls and empty hearts Brooklyn can't sleep. Her boyfriend, Lucca, died only a year ago, and now her friend Gabe has just died of an overdose. Every time she closes her eyes, Gabe's ghost is there waiting for her. She has no idea what he wants or why it isn't Lucca visiting her dreams. Nico can't stop. He's always running, trying to escape the pain of losing his brother, Lucca. But when Lucca's ghost begins leaving messages, telling Nico to help Brooklyn, emotions come crashing to the surface. As the nightmares escalate and the messages become relentless, Nico reaches out to Brooklyn. But neither of them can admit that they're being haunted. Until they learn to let each other in, not one soul will be able to rest.

Excerpts

Tues., Jan. 10th—Brooklyn

Daddy was raised

in a house full of women.

Women who did everything for him.

Now I’m left

to do those things

others have done for him

his whole life.

Cook him dinner.

Wash his boxers.

Change his sheets.

He needs me?

I don’t think so.

What he needs

is a maid.

Tonight he says,

“Brooklyn, let’s get a dog.”

I give him a look that says,

Are you crazy?

“What?” he says.

“It’d be great.

You just don’t know it

because you’ve never had one.”

That was Mom’s fault.

Neat freaks and dogs

don’t mix.

And really,

I don’t see how

busy girls with enough to take care of

thank-you-very-much

would mix with a dog either.

A maid,

a cook,

and a dog trainer?

I don’t think so.

Tues., Jan. 10th—Nico

Ma makes a big dish

of ravioli for Gabe’s family

along with some bread

and her famous pineapple tiramisu.

Tiramisu means “pick me up” in Italian.

Ma always hopes it will do a little of that.

She took them minestrone soup last week.

When she doesn’t know what else to do, she cooks.

She’s trying to teach me everything she knows.

I’m the closest thing to the daughter she never had, I guess.

She leaves some ravioli for me and Pop.

We eat in silence.

Too bad there’s no tiramisu.

I think we could both use some of that too.

Tues., Jan. 10th—Brooklyn

I fall asleep hoping to dream

of Lucca.

Instead I’m standing in the hallway at school.

In the dark.

Alone.

I turn around

and around,

wondering where everyone is.

I want to turn on the lights,

but where do you find the lights

for a school hallway?

There’s the faint sound of footsteps.

Someone is far away.

But coming closer.

I listen.

They get louder.

I open my mouth.

I try to speak.

Nothing comes out.

I walk forward,

my arms in front of me,

trying to see my way.

There’s a faint light ahead.

I think it’s the light to the office.

If I can just make it there,

it’ll be okay.

The steps are coming faster.

My pace increases.

Just get to the office.

Nothing can hurt you there.

They’ll help you.

The light gets brighter.

I start to run.

Faster and faster

I run,

the beating of my heart

almost as loud

as the pounding of my steps.

I reach the door and look behind me.

I see someone.

Someone’s coming.

Right behind me.

I turn the doorknob.

Locked tight.

My fist pounds on the window.

I pound and pound

and open my mouth to scream.

Then, he’s there.

In front of me.

Gray skin with eyes

black as the darkest night,

and lips blood red.

He lunges for me

and I scream his name.

“Gabe!”

When I wake up

with my sheets soaked

and sticking to me like bandages,

I can’t stop shaking.

Even though I know it was a dream,

something about it

was so much more

than a dream.

A lot more.

#281

Dear Lucca,

I’ve read six comics. I still can’t go back to sleep.

I had a horrible dream. I don’t even want to talk

about it.

Daddy told me after Mom moved out, I could

wake him up if I ever needed anything. But then

I’d have to tell him about the dream. He’d worry

about me. Probably think this thing with Gabe is

getting to me. And then who knows what he’d do.

Anyway, what could he do for me, besides give me

a hug and tell me to go back to sleep? He can’t do

anything for me. Not really.

So I guess I’ll read about Tom Strong some more.

 recently read a review online about him where

someone said, “Tom Strong stands for goodness,

purity of heart, tolerance, and family.” No wonder

I like him so much.

Love always,

Brooklyn

Wed., Jan. 11th—Nico

Something happened last night

and I am freaking out.

It was almost morning. I was asleep.

I heard a noise.

A scraping noise.

I sat straight up and noticed the window was open, just slightly.

The room was freezing.

I ran to the window and closed it.

I was about to turn on the light, when I felt something.

Like someone was right there.

I lunged for the baseball bat under my bed and started swinging.

I made my way to the light and turned it on.

No one was there.

Nothing was there.

And yet, it was like someone or something was there.

And then I heard a whisper.

Not even a whisper.

Something else.

A silent message in my brain.

Make sure Brooklyn is okay.

The curtains fluttered.

A slight shadow emerged on the wall.

And then, he was gone.

The room warmed up.

My goose bumps disappeared.

And I ran out of my room.

Wed., Jan. 11th—Brooklyn

Kyra tells me

I look tired.

I tell her I’m fine.

Doing great, in fact.

I don’t even tell her

about the nightmare.

That’s all it was.

A stupid nightmare.

Although, getting dressed this morning,

I had this odd sense

someone was watching me.

But that’s ridiculous.

Gabe is dead.

Dead people don’t watch people.

Do they?

Wed., Jan. 11th—Nico

I look for Brooklyn

at school

and see her at her locker

talking to Kyra.

She doesn’t see me

and I don’t stop to talk.

She’s fine.

I’ve seen it for myself.

She’s completely fine.

Did I just imagine it?

Whatever “it” was.

I thought someone was there.

I thought I heard the words.

But now, I don’t know.