Back Lovesick Falls Save as PDF
Chapters (34)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. WELCOME TO THE LILY PAD,or A Brief Introduction to Power Jam
  5. FULL CELIA GILBERT,or the Tragic Fate of My Tennis Racket
  6. THE CREATION OF THE CHORE WHEEL,or Why You Should Always Travel with a Hammer
  7. GO, SOUL CRUSHERS,or My Mother’s Take on Power Jam
  8. A PARTY,or Why I Don’t Eat Tuna in Front of Touchstone
  9. The Story of Ros, Part I
  10. A TRIP TO THE TOWN,or the Victor of the Great Flamingo Debate
  11. TAKING MEASUREMENTS,or the Tale of Oliver Teller’s Sprained Wrist
  12. THE LAST SUPPER,or the Structural Unsoundness of Veggie Burgers
  13. The Story of Ros, Part II
  14. VOYAGE TO THE TOGSHOP,or a Brief History of the Doublet
  15. LOVE SONG FOR A COPEPOD,or My Mom’s Take on My Tennis Coach
  16. The Story of Ros, Part III
  17. AVIAN DEMISE,or Bruised Tailbones and Lost Sunglasses
  18. NEEDLE AND BONE,or On Losing My Voice
  19. The Story of Ros, Part IV
  20. FRYING AN EGG,or a Compendium of Shirtless Blade Scenes
  21. The Story of Ros, Part V
  22. THE DROPPED ACORN REVISITED,or French Words That Start with W
  23. MASTER CLASS: THE BODY IN MOTION
  24. THE TRIUMVIRATE REUNITED,or Planning a Party
  25. DINNER THEATER,or a Crash Course in Limes
  26. EIGHTEEN COURT LANE,or Dog Therapy
  27. The Story of Ros, Part VI
  28. RETURN TO THE LILY PAD,or the Hilarity of a Bologna Sandwich
  29. THE YETI COSTUME,or Power Jam, Season Three
  30. JUMPING IN,or On Waiting for Guys
  31. A CHANCE ENCOUNTER,or Lessons I Have Learned
  32. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  33. Discover More
  34. About the Author

She wasn’t moving her hand. Why wasn’t she moving her hand?

The needle had gone clean through her finger.

I felt woozy.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck.”

“Deep breaths,” she said. “I need you to hit Release. And then I need for you to drive me to the hospital.”

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The emergency room on the Fourth of July: just where everyone wants to be.

“You don’t have to stay,” Phoebe said for the thousandth time. After waiting an hour amid people who’d burned themselves setting off fireworks and tending to their grills, she’d finally been moved to a bed, separated by a curtain. This seemed like an upgrade, though not when you considered that the TV was playing exclusively metal music videos and the remote was nowhere to be found. The needle was still in Phoebe’s finger. “My mom’s going to come as soon as she can.”

“I’m not going to leave,” I said. “Besides, I’m really enjoying this program.”

“Why would they put this on for people? It’s not exactly soothing.”

“No, but it’s really making me want to come up with a name for my metal band,” I said.

“Prolapse,” offered Phoebe.

“Split Infinitive,” I countered.

“Can I ask you something?” Phoebe said.

“Sure.”

“Why were you in the costume shop today? Why weren’t you swimming with everyone else?”

I shifted in my chair. It was freezing in this place. “Remember when I asked you about Jess Orlando?”

“Yeah.”

“She and Ros… I guess. They’re, like, a thing now.”

“Really?” Phoebe said. “That was fast.”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“I thought you said Ros wasn’t interested in anyone,” Phoebe said.

“They weren’t,” I said. “Until now.”

I must have sounded obviously miserable, because a look of dawning mixed with sympathy passed over Phoebe’s face, and I knew she knew how I felt about Ros. “Oh, Celia,” she said.

“Don’t you ‘Oh, Celia,’ me—you’re the one with the needle in your finger. It’s totally fine. I’m totally fine.”

“Celia. It’s not fine. That sucks.”

“It’s stupid,” I said.

“What’s stupid?”

I traced the seams of the blanket on Phoebe’s bed. “Having a heart.”

The metal music blared loudly.