Disclaimer: I do not own Bridge to Terabithia, in any shape, form, or fashion. That honor belongs to Katherine Paterson, Walden Media, and the Walt Disney Studios. I am simply a grateful fan of a beautiful story.
An Introduction from the Author
Feel free to skip this note and head on to the first chapter, if you wish. I fear this introduction will sound more like rambling than anything else, and it may turn out to be a bit uncomfortable for some. I don't Bible-thump, but I am obvious about my Christianity. The introduction is quite long, too, longer than I thought it would be when I started it. I wouldn't mind if you scroll on down to the "Next Chapter" button and press it.
But I still felt a real need to write down my thoughts and feelings before jumping into the story proper, so I hope you guys and gals don't begrudge me too much for it.
My name is T.O. Cole. I am not a new member of Fanfictiondotnet, far from it. My profile says I have been a member of since 2006, but I started writing here under an earlier account in 2003. I'm a bit of a graybeard.
But I am a greenhorn in this section. I am not a newcomer to Bridge to Terabithia, though. The novel (and more recently, the 2007 film) has been very near and dear to my heart for some time now. Quite simply, I treasure Bridge to Terabithia, and am so grateful Katherine Paterson wrote it.
I know Paterson wrote the novel to help her son, David, after the death of his best friend Lisa Hill. But it helped me, too. It helped me come to grips with the death of a very close friend of mine.
And now for a journey back in time.
I first read Bridge to Terabithia back in 1996. I was in 5th Grade, and the novel was required reading. I read it, and though I thought it was a good book, it did not touch me the way it did years and years later.
So let's flash forward…
In 2004, I graduated high school and went on to college. I had a three-day orientation beforehand, and I was incredibly nervous. I tend to be horribly shy and quiet when I first meet new people, so I felt awkward and out-of-place amongst all these kids I had never met before.
But then I met an angel. Not that I thought of him as that at first. Goodness no! He was just Jeff to me. Thinking of him as an angel came much later.
In each orientation group, there were two older students who helped introduce the incoming freshmen to college life. Jeff was one of these students and he had been assigned to my group.
And, gosh, am I glad he was.
Jeff was very, very kind to me. He included me in conversations, pulled me into others. He made me feel comfortable and at home, putting me at ease with his jokes and easygoing demeanor. He never acted as if it were a chore to help me. He just did, even though he didn't have to. It was because of him that I began to think I just might enjoy college. He was my first new friend.
I got to see a lot more of Jeff in the days that followed, too. I ran cross-country, and he was something of an assistant-coach on the team. He helped keep times, traveled with us to meets (he drove the girls' van, and boy did we have adventures, including one involving a suicidal deer) and cheered us on, stuff like that. I saw him just about every day except Sunday, and each time was more of the same. Smiles, jokes, conversations, everything.
He was a wonderful guy, and I came to love him. Not romantically, but the kind of love you have for a very close friend, a friend you can always count on. Because I knew I could count on Jeff. I never forgot how good he had been to me that first day, and how good he continued to be after orientation was over and done.
But then in February 2006, Jeff had an accident. He was hiking in the mountains and fell.
He died.
I found out at a basketball game. I was watching my younger sisters play in a tournament, and my dad told me he had heard Jeff had passed away.
I was shell-shocked, and didn't say a word for the rest of the night. I remember my sisters asking why I was so quiet, and my parents having to explain to them that one of my friends had died.
I didn't believe Dad at first. The thought that Jeff—my good friend Jeff, the guy who went out of his way to help me, who kept my running times and started a fundraiser to help with the aftermath of Katrina—had died was inconceivable. It was impossible. It had to be a mistake. It had to be.
But it wasn't.
The truth was all too plain during the next few days. Jeff had been a popular guy at my college. His death left a dark cloud over the campus for days and days afterwards. Everyone was affected, not just my stunned cross-country team. His friends helped set up a memorial service (another friend of mine on the team also put together a video, commemorating Jeff's life) in the auditorium, and everyone attended. It was a packed house.
I went to his funeral, as did about half the school, it seemed, if not more. I was one of the few who got to come inside the church, to be with the family, during the service. I don't cry much, never have. But when they opened the casket, and I saw Jeff—my Jeff—I broke down and sobbed. It hit me really hard then, harder than it ever had before, that he was gone. That he wasn't coming back.
I do not think I have ever cried so hard, before or since.
I hurt for a long time. Not just because my friend had died, though that was hard enough to deal with. No. I was sick with guilt, too. I had never thanked him for being my friend, for reaching out to me when he did, for making me feel at home when I was so nervous and alone. Not once did I ever thank him for being a beautiful friend, a real blessing to me.
And now he was gone, and I would never have a chance to say any of those things.
I can't say I was depressed. But I did feel rotten about it for a long, long time. I wished again and again I could have one moment, just one, so I could thank him, tell him I had loved him, that I was sorry I hadn't told him sooner. I carried that lingering guilt with me for years after Jeff's death.
Late in 2009, I was mired in graduate studies, trying to earn an M.A. in English. I took a Children's Literature class, and one of the books I had to read was Bridge to Terabithia. I remembered the story from all those years ago, but I still had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I read it, and I fell in love. I was captured by the story, touched so very, very deeply by the friendship between the two kids, and actually cried in the end. I even wrote my final paper for the seminar on Jess and Leslie's relationship (as anima and animus), and I still think it was the best paper I have ever written for school. I bragged about the book, too, so much so that my parents got me the Newbery Library hardback edition for Christmas.
My guilt about Jeff began to fade away.
It took me a while to realize just why that was. I'm slow on the uptake with a lot of things, so God has to bang me on the head a few times to catch my attention. I think re-reading the novel a couple of years later, as well as finally watching the 2007 film version (I fell in love with it, too), helped in that regard. But I eventually understood, and it was because of this passage in particular.
He thought about it all day, how before Leslie came, he had been a nothing—a stupid, weird little kid who drew funny pictures and chased around a cow field trying to act big—trying to hide a whole mob of foolish little fears running riot inside his gut.
It was Leslie who had taken him from the cow pasture into Terabithia and turned him into a king. He had thought that was it. Wasn't king the best you could be? Now it occurred to him that perhaps Terabithia was like a castle where you came to be knighted. After you stayed a while and grew strong you had to move on. For hadn't Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world—huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile? (Handle with care—everything—even the predators).
Now it was time for him to move out. She wasn't there, so he must go on for the both of them. It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength.
As for the terrors ahead—for he did not fool himself that they were all behind him—well, you just have to stand up to your fear and not let it squeeze you white. Right, Leslie?
Right.
And there was my answer.
Jeff was gone, but not really. He lived on, lived on in me, and through the blessing he had given me.
And that was how I could thank him for being my friend. I could pass his blessing along to others. I could be kind and generous, go out of my way to help someone in need, whether they were lost or alone or hurting. I could believe in myself, believe in others. I could do my best to be a blessing myself. I could go on for him, for both of us, for everyone he had touched and continues to touch.
And so I have. And goodness knows I have tried my best to do so in all the years since. I know for sure I have stumbled more than a few times along the way. I'm not perfect. But I am going to keep trying.
Death and loss are hard. Choosing to move forward from both is hard, too. But love, both past and present, will always prevail. It can carry you, onward and upward, give you comfort and strength, if you allow it to. And we can do such beautiful things when we transcend hardship and heartache, and choose to believe in the beauty found in this world, and in people too.
I learned that from Bridge to Terabithia. I love it for many, many reasons (it is my favorite book now), and that is definitely one of them. I really and truly think it was a blessing God sent to me when I needed it most, an answered prayer (and possibly an affirmation too, as it wasn't as if I wasn't helping people before the book opened my eyes) and I thank Him for that. I would love to thank Katherine Paterson, too, one day, for having had the courage and compassion to write the story after her and David and Lisa's tragedy.
But until then, if it even happens at all, I will thank her, God, and Jeff by living life with my eyes and heart wide open, and giving and loving generously, always.
Because what we do does matter. It matters a lot.
Some of you may be wondering what any of this has to do with a fan fic for Bridge to Terabithia. Nothing at all, really, or maybe it has everything to do with it. I just felt compelled to write this (the story, and this introduction as well) one day. As a tribute to the novel and movie I love, as a bit of entertainment for others who love them too, or maybe even as a way to lift up someone out there who needs to be uplifted…
Maybe, hopefully, it can be all those things.
And that's part of my journey, too: using my writing (which is my passion) to do some good in this life. I hope that does not sound like bragging. That is not my intention. I am my own worst critic when it comes to stories. But it is still my hope to be a blessing, in whatever way, to others, just as Jeff was to me.
At the very least, I hope you guys and gals can get a little bit of enjoyment out of this fan fic. Writing is fun, and the extra practice (I work on original stuff, too, when I am not paying the bills as a reporter) does not hurt either.
Now back to the actual story…
I am calling this fan fic A Place for Us. It is an AU story, and an AU in a number of ways.
Confused yet?
I am a fantasy writer, first and foremost, so fantasy pops up for real (wow; that is an oxymoron, isn't it?) during this story. There have been several stories where Terabithia turns out to be more than the kids' imagination, and this is one of them. I hope I can be somewhat original about it, though.
Never fear. At its core, this fan fic is more about the close relationship between a boy and a girl than it is any of the fantasy elements.
Which brings me to my next point…
A Place for Us is both LID and LDD. Leslie did die, as in canon, but thanks to some time travel on Jess's part, she was saved. Think MadTom's wonderful Groundhogs at Terabithia when it comes to the foundation/background (it was partly my inspiration, in fact, and I heartily recommend it) for this idea. This way, Jess keeps the lessons he learned from Leslie and her death (so, so important, as painful as it was and is) and has her with him again too.
I mean absolutely no disrespect to Katerine Paterson, David Paterson, or Lisa Hill's memory, or to Bridge to Terabithia,by writing an LDD story. I would never demand a change be made to the novel or movie, and actually hate it when people say an LDD fic is how the book and/or film SHOULD HAVE ENDED.
No, no. The book and movie are perfect as is. This story is an AU for a reason. It is a "what if" story.
Because, goodness knows, even though I live on for Jeff and am glad for the lessons he taught me, I still wish he was here with me. It is the same with Leslie in the world of Terabithia. I am sure Jess would want Leslie back, even after he begins to recover and live on after her death.
And perhaps that is so in our hearts and minds, too. I know I have read author's notes and reviews on a few of the stories here, where some have admitted to reading LDD fics as a form of comfort after the novel/movie. I have done so myself, to tell the truth. And there are some excellent ones out there that have made me smile.
So if my story can do that for you… Awesome!
That all sounds horribly complicated, doesn't it? I just wanted to make sure no one thought I was trying to "correct" Bridge to Terabithia by writing an LDD. This story is not a correction. It is a lot of things, but not a correction.
I have again gone off on a tangent. Which is no surprise when it comes to me, but still. Let's get back on track, shall we?
I probably will not go into too great a detail about the time travel aspect of the LDD-side of things. I am still working out all the little details, to be honest. I may even write it one day. But all you need to know, really, are a few basic things. Leslie is alive, because Jess (a Jess who lived through the canon storyline and was then sent back through time to the day of the accident) saved her. Leslie knows what he went through, because he told her himself, and they have told the same story to at least one person: May Belle.
Yes, May Belle is a huge player in this story. I adore the relationship that grows between her and Jess in the novel/movie (I'm a big sister myself), and could not do without it. I doubt Jess would, either, even after all the time traveling.
In terms of what is canon (canon to an AU, strange) here, I look to the 2007 film. Not because I prefer it over the novel, but because I think I can write the world of 2007/2008 (dialogue, culture, what have you) better than I can the one of 1977. As others have done, though, I will use novel canon to fill in the gaps in movie canon.
There will be Easter eggs too, so keep an eye out. I love throwing out references. Filmography, commentaries from the movie itself… Nothing is safe!
I think I have said all that needs to be said. More, probably, and perhaps even too much. But if you have managed to slug through this introduction, I thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy A Place for Us.
And remember. Always, always keep your mind wide open! And keep your hearts open too!
T.O. Cole
March 2013