Take Me There Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  PART ONE - May 20-23

  CHAPTER 1 - Saturday

  CHAPTER 2 - Sunday

  CHAPTER 3 - Monday

  CHAPTER 4 - Tuesday

  NICOLE CHAPTER 5 - Saturday

  CHAPTER 6 - Sunday

  CHAPTER 7 - Monday

  CHAPTER 8 - Tuesday

  JAMES CHAPTER 9 - Saturday

  CHAPTER 10 - Sunday

  CHAPTER 11 - Monday

  CHAPTER 12 - Tuesday

  PART TWO - May 24-26

  RHIANNON CHAPTER 13 - Wednesday

  CHAPTER 14 - Thursday

  CHAPTER 15 - Friday

  NICOLE CHAPTER 16 - Wednesday

  CHAPTER 17 - Thursday

  CHAPTER 18 - Friday

  JAMES CHAPTER 19 - Wednesday

  CHAPTER 20 - Thursday

  CHAPTER 21 - Friday

  EPILOGUE

  Teaser chapter

  WHAT IS LOVE?

  RHIANNON

  My life could not possibly suck more than it does right now.

  I try not to cry.

  And to let it go.

  I don’t want to be this totally depressed person, with a heart so broken it hurts every time I breathe.

  I still love Steve. And here’s the worst part.

  I want him back.

  NICOLE

  Danny was my first real boyfriend. He just came right up to me with his cute smile and customized Vans and his yellow rubber bracelet that says MOMENT OF ZEN and his radical attitude and picked me to be with out of everyone else.

  And it was great at first. But then there was that night. So I had to break up with him. I couldn’t deal with it then and I still can’t deal with it now.

  JAMES

  I don’t like the way he’s looking at her. And I definitely don’t like the way he said, “If you ever feel like hanging out . . .”

  Whatever. It’s her life. I don’t know why, but it’s like I go into this hyper protective bodyguard mode whenever some dude tries to hit on Rhiannon.

  “Oh,” Keith goes. “Are you two . . .?”

  “No!” Rhiannon yells. “We’re just friends.”

  Dude. Why’d she have to yell like that? Is the thought of us together so horrendous? I mean, it’s not like I want to be with her, but jeez.

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  Scrambled Eggs at Midnight Brad Barkley and Heather Hepler

  The Specialists: Model Spy Shannon Greenland

  Storky: How I Lost My Nickname and Won the Girl D. L. Garfinkle

  Thou Shalt Not Dump the Skater Dude and Other Commandments I Have Broken Rosemary Graham

  The Truth About Forever Sarah Dessen

  When It Happens Susane Colasanti

  SPEAK

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Viking,

  a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2008

  Published by Speak, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2009

  Copyright © Susane Colasanti, 2008 All rights reserved

  The lines from “i carry your heart with me (i carry it in”. Copyright 1952, © 1980, 1991 by the Trustees for

  E. E. Cummings Trust, from Complete Poems: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings, edited by George J. Firmage.

  Used by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. The lines from “Rebel” copyright © 2004

  by Tatyana Fatima Cabrera. All rights reserved. Used by permission of Tatyana Fatima Cabrera.

  THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Colasanti, Susane.

  Take me there / by Susane Colasanti.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Three New York high school students try to sort out their emotions as they deal

  with relationships, crushes, their families, and planning for the future.

  [1. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 2. High schools—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction.

  4. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 5. Emotional problems—Fiction. 6. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.C6699Tak 2008

  [Fic]—dc22

  2007037119

  eISBN : 978-1-101-16281-1

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product

  of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume

  any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  FOR PIERRE,

  who proves that true love

  is something real.

  Acknowledgements

  FINDING MY WAY into the light would not have been possible without the guidance and encouragement of the phenomenal support team at Viking Children’s Books. Anne Rivers Gunton, my spectacular editor, has an incredible talent for shaping a story until it sparkles brighter than I ever imagined. Your patience and dedication are invaluable. Regina Hayes is an amazing source of inspiration. Thank you so much for believing in me. Sam Kim created an absolutely gorgeous cover and Nico Medina is the best copy editor ever. You guys rock.

  I would also like to thank my agent, Gillian MacKenzie, for her determination and attention to detail. Can’t wait to hear the soundtrack.

  My life would be a darker world without these contributions of glowing genius. Authors Laurie Halse Anderson, Blake Nelson, Judy Blume, and S. E. Hinton have sparked an eternal flame with their brilliance. All of my students over the past decade have challenged and influenced me in countless ways. The fascinating Tatyana Cabrera let me share her fierce talent with the world. And Jonathan Rubinstein created a neighborhood coffeehouse that always feels like home.

  My friends are the most dazzling family I could ever hope for. I would be lost without all of you. Laila, your awesome daily e-mails of encouragement kept the fire burning. Allison, you increased the luminosity of all those mornings.

  Intense thanks to Pierre, for being my number-one fan and totally devoted to taking excellent care of me. You give me the strength to keep going. Feel the gluons.

  To everyone who reads this boo
k, infinite thank-yous. You are pure sunlight to me.

  PART ONE

  May 20-23

  To move the world, we must first move ourselves.

  —Socrates

  RHIANNON

  CHAPTER 1

  Saturday

  MY LIFE COULD not possibly suck more than it does right now.

  I try not to cry.

  And to let it go.

  I don’t want to be this totally depressed person, with a heart so broken it hurts every time I breathe.

  I still love him. And here’s the worst part.

  I want him back.

  The homework pile on my desk is laughing at my pain. I’m not laughing with you,it says. I’m laughing at you. You pathetic idiot.

  The homework pile is right. I am pathetic. I am an idiot.

  I vaguely remember remnants of my normal life. They’re like a dream. These detached, blurry images that may belong to someone else.

  I hate being like this.

  And then other times I’m like, Okay, Ree. Enough already. Get over it.Because how can I let someone who doesn’t love me anymore turn me into this person I don’t even recognize?

  Being awake sucks.

  My Persian cat Snickers, aka Snick-Snick, jumps up into bed with me and purrs. He curls up in a fluff ball, pressing against my ribs. I pet his long, soft fur. He feels sad, like me.

  Question: When does the pain go away?

  I reach over to my nightstand for the remote and my glasses. I turn on the TV. Here’s the agenda: I’ll watch a gazillion movies, read the huge stack of magazines I’ve accumulated because I never have time to read them, and snarf horrifying amounts of junk food until it’s time to get up and go to school on Monday.

  Getting dumped is crazy times. Like . . . what? You’re supposed to instantly turn off all your emotions just because he says it’s over? You’re supposed to go on with your life like nothing happened?

  Garden State is in the DVD player. I press PLAY even though I just watched it a week ago.

  I wish Steve were here so bad, watching the movie with me. We had this way together. I would lie against him with my cheek on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. And he would hold my hand with my fingers folded in between his. He had this way of making me feel so good by not really doing much of anything. Just by being him.

  Question: Where did all that love go?

  Last week I went through the motions of school on automatic. I cried at the most random things. Someone would be pouring a glass of water and I’d suddenly feel tears running down my face. But the absolute worst was when people asked if I was okay. Because then I had to admit that it was real, it happened, and we weren’t together anymore.

  And yeah, it got better. My stomach eventually went back to normal. I didn’t cry every day.

  But my heart. My heart will always be broken.

  Just when Zach Braff is screaming into the rain, Brooke comes barging in with Cinnabon.

  Brooke’s hair is wrapped in a towel because she’s in grad school and on break and it’s two in the afternoon and that’s what time she gets up. Brooke is ten years older than me (I’m seventeen), so you have to wonder what my parents (who are over fifty) were thinking. She’s in this endless PhD program for art history. Dad’s always ranting how she’ll never find a job after. But it’s just what she’s into, and she’s not changing her mind. That doesn’t stop Dad from trying to change it for her, though. He’s an international currency trader, and he’s all about the big bucks. As in he wants us to get paid the big bucks when we grow up. Which is highly unlikely, considering the types of careers we want.

  But Dad is really stubborn. So he got this summer internship all set up for Brooke with a broker at Citigroup, where he works, hoping that she’d see the light and become someone she’s not because that’s what responsible adults do. But she was like, I’d rather eat dirt than expose myself to the corruption of impressionable minds.So Dad was like, Okay fine, be like that, but don’t expect me to keep paying for it.

  Anyway, Brooke has an apartment in this sketch neighborhood uptown near Columbia, where she goes, but she always stays here for breaks since the downtown nightlife is where it’s at. She works the bar-and-club scene something fierce. Like she’s nineteen and just having fun instead of twenty-seven and interviewing potential husbands.

  So she’s been home for a week, but she’s going backpacking through Europe on one of those Europe-on-Thirty-Dollars-a-Day plans. She’s leaving Friday.

  “Extra icing!” Brooke reports. She sits on the side of my bed and puts the Cinnabon box on my stomach. I haven’t moved since I woke up. Or whatever you call it.

  Brooke glances at the TV. “Oh! I love this movie!”

  I sniff at the box.

  She goes, “But how can you watch it again?”

  “It’s the best.”

  “But you already know what happens.”

  “So?”

  “So then how . . . ? Whatever.” Brooke looks me over. “And FYI? This is the last day we’re letting you sulk. No boy is worth wasting a gorgeous weekend over. It’s really nice out, by the way.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I’ve been out, hello.”

  I pop open the box. This intense cinnamon smell wafts out. “So?”

  “So you have to get up and get on with your life.” Brooke rubs her hair with the towel. “He is so not worth it.”

  “It’s only been a week.”

  “Yeah! Exactly!” Brooke rubs furiously. “Which is more than enough time to recuperate. News flash! You live in the best city in the world! There are endless possibilities out there!”

  I peel open the container of extra icing.

  “And plenty of guys who will treat you better than Steve ever did.”

  “He treated me great.”

  “Please. The boy couldn’t get a clue if they were giving them away on the street.”

  It’s not like I’m agreeing with her or anything. But if your boyfriend, out of nowhere and with no advance warning whatsoever, dumps you for no apparent reason, is it really about you? Or is it all him?

  When the phone rings, I have no idea how long I’ve been in bed. All I know is I’m on my third movie, I’ve read two People magazines and one Teen Vogue, and I’m most of the way through a box of Vienna Cremes. The Cinnabon is long gone.

  “Hello?” my voice cracks into the phone.

  “Hey,” James says.

  “Hey.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  That’s the thing about James. He knows when something’s wrong, before you even say anything. He’s so not a typical straight boy.

  It’s impossible to describe my agony. And I’m sure my friends are sick of hearing about it. So I just go, “I’m still . . .”

  “Still?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Drag.”

  Everyone says that it gets better with time and that time heals all wounds and blah-di-blah-blah.

  Question: What if they’re wrong?

  “Tell me about it,” I mumble.

  “Sounds like you could use a change of scenery.”

  I wait for him to try. It’s not going to work.

  He goes, “Nice how Keith’s party is tonight.”

  “I already told you. I’m not going.”

  “Um-hm, yeah. So when am I picking you up?”

  “No way.”

  “Come on.”

  “Not going.”

  “You have to go.”

  “I’m not leaving this bed.”

  “Distraction is your friend.”

  “Not leaving.” I so don’t want to deal with people right now. Plus, there’s a chance Steve will be there. But still. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice is screaming at me to get up, brush myself off, and go. So it’s complicated.

  “Steve is such a dumbass,” James informs me.

  “I knew it!” I always knew James had a problem with Steve, even though he never said anything. James has b
een my best friend since seventh grade, when I lost my notebook on the first day of school and he helped me find it. It’s awesome that we ended up going to the same high school, too. “But why?”

  “You deserve someone better.”

  “Better like how?”

  “Better like not a dumbass.”

  “Yeah. He was overrated.” Not like I believe what I’m saying. I’m just trying to convince myself that out of me and Steve, I wasn’t the one who did anything wrong.

  “Exactly,” James says. “So what time should I pick you up?”

  Top Five Things I Miss About Steve

  5. Cracking up together over old SNL reruns of Mr. Bill.

  4. When we’d double with Nicole and Danny to see bands at The Elbow Room.

  3. The way he’d surprise me by finding out where movies were being filmed around our neighborhood in Greenwich Village. And then we’d go watch.

  2. He always remembered that I like extra sprinkles when we went out for ice cream.

  1. How it felt to be loved.

  “Hey!” James yells at Keith, who almost dumped his beer all over my shirt. “Watch it!”

  “Sorry, man,” Keith grumbles, not looking sorry about anything.

  James turns back to me and goes, “Freak.”

  Which is what I usually think every time I see Keith. So I’m trying to pretend that even though we’re at Keith’s house, I won’t have to see him again. Because he’s totally obnoxious. But he lives in this huge loft in SoHo, which is, like, this ultra-ritzy neighborhood one over from the Village, and he throws these incredible parties. So of course everyone goes. And if you just avoid him while you’re there, it’s a total blast.