by David Yoon
I let her know this by giving her hand a squeeze.
“It’s really good to see you,” I said.
“See you at Christmas, I guess,” said Joy.
“See you at Christmas,” I said.
* * *
• • •
It’s three days later, and I’m headed back north. Mom’s insisting. Hanna and Miles are staying behind for a few more days, ostensibly so that Mom can buy them a metric ton of baby clothes.
“No way am I letting her buy a bunch of pink princessy crap,” says Hanna.
“You’re such a bullshitter,” I say.
“She’s gonna buy whatever she wants, isn’t she.”
“And you won’t stop her,” I say. “And you’re gonna love every minute of it.”
Hanna gives me the longest hug she’s ever given me, which means, You’re right.
And now I’m back on the road. Paul Olmo sits in the front seat, Evon Lee’s in the back seat. We drive and drive. We pass a phone around and take turns playing music. We pass through the burnt-out forest again, and when I spot the fire hazard sign, I slow down and crane my neck to see if my Tascam is still there.
But the Tascam is gone.
I’m so happy to see it missing that I tear up. I’m grateful someone is listening to it right now. I’m grateful for everything: this road, the trees that will soon bloom with life again, and all the life ahead of us.
I drop off Paul Olmo in Santa Cruz, and then it’s just me and Evon alone.
“Your turn to DJ,” I mumble, blindly handing her the phone.
“So my brother told you he’s, uh,” says Evon.
I glance at her. She peers at me from behind my phone.
“Yes,” I say. “He did.”
Evon nods. “He said he was gonna, so. Good.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since March.”
“Huh.”
“He’s been working up to it,” says Evon.
We drive for five miles, passing endless tan hills and vast refinery lots. I glance at Evon a few more times. She doesn’t know about the kiss.
“So did he come out to your mom-n-dad?” I say.
Evon shakes her head. “He was barely able to tell me, let alone them.”
“And you kept his secret this whole time.”
Evon just shrugs at me: of course.
“You’re the best little sister by three seconds in the whole world,” I say.
Heavenly Evon Lee smiles one of the best smiles ever.
We reach Stanford. I drop her off at her dorm. I reach my dorm, park the car, and get out to stretch.
I don’t know what else to do, so I walk the campus.
I cross the parking lot to find myself in a field that dips to reveal a serpent-like wall constructed of stone. It’s a famous sculpture, apparently, one that evokes sinuous change and unyielding permanence both at the same time.
I descend the bank to the wall and walk its length. I run my hand along its undulating tapered top ridge as it winds left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right.
Then the wall ends and I continue on.
acknowledgments
Thank you, Mom. I love you.
Thank you, big bro. I love you too.
Thank you, Jen Loja, for taking the time and caring with such sincerity. Thanks to your team as well.
Thank you, Jen Klonsky, my champion at Penguin. I’m beyond lucky to have as a believer someone as smart and fearless as you.
Also many thanks to:
Shanta Newlin and her indomitable publicity team, including Elyse Marshall and Marisa Russell
Emily Romero and her inspired marketing team, including Alex Garber and Felicity Vallence, and Erin Berger and Christina Colangelo
Felicia Frazier and her intrepid sales team
Laurel Robinson, Theresa Evangelista, Marikka Tamura, and Caitlin Tutterow, plus Kelly Hurst across the pond
I could not dream of more gracious, patient, and ingenious people to work with. All of you are the shinobi elite of publishing.
More thanks to my Alloy family: Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, Joelle Hobeika, and to Les Morgenstein and Elysa Dutton here on the West Coast. You guys believed in me so steadfast for so long, even when things weren’t going so well, and now I’m teary-eyed.
Enormous thanks to Yoon Bai and Gemma Baek for keeping my crappy Korean straight and for your critical translation skills.
All the hats off to artist Owen Gildersleeve, for crafting a cover authors dream of.
Thanks to Jillian Vandall, because Jillian Vandall.
I would not even be here without wife Nicola Yoon. You are my love, my best friend, my weirdest friend. You are my most trusted writing partner and tough-as-nails business sounding board. I have a hard time believing we actually get to be on this creative journey together. Hand in hand. Step by step. Some mornings I wake up and think, “We are married, and we are writers!”
Thank you, Nathan Cernosek, Wendy Wunder, Gregg Rosenblum, Anna Carey, Adam Silvera, Sabaa Tahir, Ransom Riggs, Tahareh Mafi, Marie Lu, and Primo Gallanosa for your cheers and support. You know like only fellow writers can know.
Thank you Andrew Dodge, Michelle Hlubinka, Sue Jung, Christina Ma, J Chad Evans, and the rest of the original Apey crew.
Hi Penny! One day I bet you’ll get to write acknowledgments too.
Thanks also to Billy Lambufonda.
Finally: thank you, Dad. You taught me more than I think either of us realized. I know you only got to hold the book in your hands, and not for very long because you were so tired, but I know you read it in your own way using your heart instead of your eyes. You can officially brag about me to your new mysterious friends. I miss you.
Photo Credit: David Zaugh, Zaugh Photography
David Yoon grew up in Orange County, California, and now lives in Los Angeles with his wife, novelist Nicola Yoon, and their daughter. He drew the illustrations for Nicola’s #1 New York Times bestseller Everything, Everything. Frankly in Love is his first novel. davidyoon.com
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.