Not Our Summer
Page 22
“You and my mom both have a lot to be sorry about, but I’ve decided to be the bigger person in all this. I’m an adult now, too, after all. So I’m going to do the adult thing and forgive you. I forgive both of you.” It’s like she’s just waved an invisible magic wand because a weight seems to lift from her entire frame as she says this. She draws in a shuddering breath, the only hint telling me that what she just did, no matter how it looked or sounded, wasn’t easy for her.
Sam’s face softens. “Thank—”
“I’m not doing it for your sake,” K. J. cuts in, her snarky tone returning in full force.
Sam nods. “I understand.” He seems to consider his next words before speaking. “I can’t make up for what I’ve done… or haven’t done. I know that, but I’d like to be at least a small part of your life now. If you’ll let me.”
K. J. scrutinizes his face, maybe trying to get a read on his sincerity. “We’ll see.”
I bite my lip to keep a straight face. “Maybe you can have us over around Thanksgiving,” I say before K. J. and I exchange a momentary look of unspoken solidarity.
She shrugs and looks back at Sam. “Yeah, maybe so.”
“I’d love to,” he says. “That would be great.”
The waitress reappears with a large tray, which she manages to balance on one hand while placing each of our plates in front of us with the other. My chicken tenders smell incredible, and despite everything, my stomach rumbles again. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks.
K. J. and I both shake our heads. I’m already snatching up a chicken finger.
Sam gives the waitress a thumbs-up. “I think we’re all good.”
We start eating, setting the former conversation aside. For now, at least. Over the past few months, K. J. and I became masters at sitting together in silence. So what if our dad happens to be here this time? As the clinking of silverware and murmur of other people’s quiet conversations carry across the restaurant, Sam’s words to the waitress play on repeat in my head.
He’ll never be a bigger part of my life than he has been for the past eighteen years, and I think I’ve accepted that. There’s no way he’s going to suddenly become K. J.’s favorite person either, but that doesn’t matter. K. J. and I don’t need Sam. We have each other now and a whole lifetime ahead of us. We won’t make the same mistakes our mothers did, I’m sure of it.
I’m also getting a second chance to be a sister myself, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted again. I take another sip of my Coke, stealing a glance at K. J. My sister—it’s finally starting to sink in. A warm, contented feeling floods through me—the kind I used to get on Christmas morning or after winning a big soccer game. It has nothing to do with our dad, but everything to do with his words just now.
You got it right for once, Sam.
We are all good.
CHAPTER 33
ELI
Hello girls,
I know I said the last letter was my final one, but I just couldn’t help myself. Believe it or not, I’ve grown rather fond of writing these letters to you. It’s been cathartic for me. My days are drawing to a close and, as I write these words, none of you have any idea of what’s going on with me. That’s okay. That’s how I want things. I’ve accepted that this is how my life will end.
In Brazil, there’s a species of ant where it is common practice for a few members of the colony to sacrifice themselves in order to ensure the rest are safe. At sunset, these ants will stay outside in order to seal up the nest, pushing sand over the entrance hole until it becomes invisible to the outside world. Of course, then the problem is that there’s no way for them to get back in. After dusk, the ants are blown away by the wind or die from exposure to the cold.
Researchers aren’t sure why these ants choose to do this job, but some think that they might be older workers who are approaching death anyway—that they’re more dispensable than their younger nest mates.
I’m no hero for sure, but I feel like this final act before my death may just help to seal up our own nest, so to speak. Someone needs to patch the hole in our family and, since I haven’t done anything to help in the past, it’s only fitting that I should make an attempt now.
I also told you the story about the ants because it shows that insects are far more complex than most people believe them to be. They’re capable of love for the greater good, in a sense. Certainly, a sense of honor and duty. Perhaps they’re more like us than we think.
RaeLynn, Jackie, Rebecka, and Katherine: It’s been my greatest honor to call you my daughters and granddaughters. I truly mean that.
Be well my dears. Enjoy each day as if it were your last, because you just never know if it is.
Love always,
Elijah
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As any writer will tell you, getting a book from first draft to publishing-ready form is far from a solitary achievement. Yes, we, writers, give birth to the book idea and get it on paper, but it often takes a whole team of people to help bring the story to life.
So with that in mind, I owe much thanks to my critique partners and beta readers who were the first to offer invaluable feedback for this story: Summer Nicholson, Justine Manzano, Maddie Dorminy, Jelsa Mepsey, Melissa Poettcker, Wendy Cross, Anne Stubert, and Jude Bayton.
Many thanks to PitchWars mentor Carrie Allen, who, along with her co-mentor, Sabrina Lotfi, requested this book in 2019. Even though they ultimately didn’t pick me, Carrie read my entire manuscript and her incredibly thoughtful feedback helped me to make this book better.
Every writer needs a tribe, and I’m so thankful for mine: the writers I’ve met through local critique groups who have given constructive feedback on each of the books I’ve written, including this one. So thank you to Shirley Hall, Jeff South, Deniece Adsit, Layton Isaacs, Dan Gamble, Jude Bayton, Steve Moore, and Mary Miller (who told me, “This is the one!”).
Thank you to the Pitch2Pub ladies for their continual support and encouragement. It is truly an honor to be a part of such a talented group.
In my former life, I was a middle school teacher, and I’m grateful for the students who shared my enthusiasm for reading and books (most notably The Giver and the Twilight series). These kids helped to plant a seed which would lead me to start writing books for young adults, and even though they’re all grown now, I hope at least a few of them will read this one.
I must also thank the all-around-amazing Brenda Drake, founder of PitchWars and #pitmad, whom I first met at a writing conference in Oklahoma City. I religiously participated in these contests for five years until I finally found my match, and now I will be forever grateful to my editor, Britny Brooks-Perilli at Running Press Kids, for favoriting my pitch and proving that yes, Twitter pitch contest dreams can come true.
Thank you to my wonderful and wise agent, Janna Bonikowski, whose advice has helped me successfully navigate this thing called publishing. And thank you to the rest of my awesome team at Running Press Kids: my book designer, Marissa Raybuck; my production editor, Amber Morris; and my cover illustrator, Monica Garwood.
Thank you to my husband, Mike, and my two lovely kids for supporting my writing journey, and to my long-time best friend, Summer, who helped me work through plot problems on numerous occasions and always referred to K. J. and Becka as if they were real people and not just characters in my head.
Last but certainly not least, thanks to YOU, dear reader, for reading this book. You’re the one I wrote it for, after all.