Save Me Once

CHAPTER

CHAPTER

Last summer

My name is Becky Linklater, and this is my story. Wow, I didn’t realize how scary writing this all out was going to be. Once I get into the groove, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m really excited about that part. Because it really is, like, the best story I know, and it’s totally true because it happened to me.

Or maybe I should say it’s happening to me.

But that doesn’t make it easier to figure out where to begin. Mr. Daly — he’s my English teacher and one of the biggest inspirations in my entire life — told me once that I have a real gift for writing, but I need to do a better job with my opening.

Hook my readers, as he put it, because you only have a few paragraphs to catch someone’s attention. Well, Mr. Daly, I bet that’s really good advice. In fact, I’m sure it is because I read your novel, the one about the boy who’s really a knight, and it was amazing. I’m not usually into fantasy. I like more realistic stuff, I guess. Either realistic or dystopian. I like that a lot too. But realistic dystopian, know what I mean?

Your book wasn’t like that, but it was still really good. And so whenever you give me writing advice, I try to pay attention because one day, I’m going to be a real writer. Just like you. Except I won’t write fantasy. (No offense.)

Anyway, I think Mr. Daly was onto something for sure. I do have a hard time with my openings. It’s not that I don’t know what to say. I actually have the opposite problem. I have so many ideas swirling around in my mind right now, I literally have no idea where to begin.

But I have to start somewhere, and even though I’m writing this just for me and nobody else (not even my mom, even though she’s great and I literally love her to death), it really is intimidating. I mean it. Like, I’ve got what’s going to turn into the greatest love story, at least in this century, and I don’t even know what to say in the very first chapter.

I guess I should start at the ice rink. I’m a figure skater. Well, I was. Mom even got Dad convinced to let me join the Troy Valley team, which is, like, super competitive. One of the girls even ended up trying out for the Olympics. That’s how good we’re talking.

But all that was years ago, before Dad took off. I promised myself I wouldn’t start this story with anything sad, so I won’t go into details of that. Bottom line is Mom ran out of money, and since Dad’s basically a total deadbeat (seriously), I had to quit the team.

Yeah, it was a bummer, but that’s life sometimes, right?

You’ve just got to make the best of what you’ve got.

Or something like that.

I couldn’t stay on the competition team, and even though it was majorly a disappointment, I have to admit I kind of have some mixed feelings about it. Like, on the one hand, my coach said I was really good. I know I shouldn’t brag and stuff, but Mom told me once that being too humble is basically just as bad as being too proud. So I’m really and genuinely serious when I say I was that good. Best on my team, hands down.

Then I had to quit.

Boo hoo, life goes on, I got over it.

But I still skate. A lot. Not on a team or anything, at least not for competitions. Mostly now just for the love of it, which is why in some ways Dad being such a two-timing sleaze ball and Mom not making enough money to pay all my dues turned into kind of a mixed blessing. At least that’s what Miss Sandy would say. She’s my best friend’s mom, but this story isn’t that much about her, so I guess I don’t really need to go into that.

Not right now, at least.

Anyway, I say quitting the competition team was a mixed blessing because it was so busy. Like, I had to be up at, like, five every morning to get to practice, and then after school I was either working out or back on the ice, and then three nights a week I barely had time to eat dinner before I had to meet my private coach, and ... Well, now I just get to skate when I want. Which is still quite a bit, and now there’s not all the pressure of such a tight schedule and all those competitions.

That’s just the way I am, I guess. Always looking for the bright side of things. Focusing on the good stuff. Which is why I wanted so bad to write this story out, because something amazing — I mean like literally amazing — just happened to me.

I fell in love.

If you’re an adult reading this, maybe you’re rolling your eyes. Maybe you’re all like, she’s not even in high school yet. What’s up with that, and how is she talking about true love? Okay, I know it might sound sappy, but seriously, I may not be that old yet in years, but I swear this is the real thing.

Sometimes I feel so lucky and so happy it’s like my heart is about to squeeze itself right out of my chest. I don’t mean that exactly literally, by the way, and Mr. Daly’s always telling me not to use too much hyperbole in my writing. Isn’t that a cool word? Hyperbole. Four syllables. I won’t ever forget that because I was totally embarrassed the first time Mr. Daly asked me to read something out loud to the class and I mispronounced it. I said “hyper-bowl,” like a bowling team for really active kids or something, but nobody else in my class knew how it was supposed to be pronounced either, so it was all good.

But back to Mr. Daly. He told me not to exaggerate when I write, and if he were reading this, he’d probably tell me I’m using too many clichés, but the funny thing is he told me that exact same thing before I read his novel. So when I finally picked it up, I decided to count, and he’s got, like, two or three clichés in every single chapter.

Ha! Caught him.

So you might think I’m exaggerating when I say I found true love, but seriously, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life. I may be young, but I’m old enough to know what love is. Real love.

It was like we were meant for each other.

Like we were destined to meet, and when we finally fell into each other’s lives, the stars exploded overhead because this was the kind of encounter that only happens once a millennium.

Maybe less.

That’s why I feel so lucky.

That’s why I feel so blessed.

Because I’m loved by the most amazing, clever, considerate boy in the world. No, make that in the universe. And I’m not too shallow to admit it. He’s totally gorgeous too, but that’s just icing on the cake. (Oops! A cliché. Sorry, Mr. Daly.)

And it’s one thing to be in love with someone like that, and it’s a wonderful thing all in its own right. (Is that a cliché? I’m actually not entirely sure.) But it’s even more amazing to be loved by a boy like this. A boy who always puts my needs and my feelings in front of his own.

A boy who would do anything — and I seriously mean anything — just to be with me.

A boy who knows me inside out and accepts me just as I am, no strings attached.

A boy like Xavier.