Eventually, Clara’s voice called them over. “Our flight’s about to board. We might actually leave this time.”
Clara was holding Rae’s sketchbook, and she was wearing one of Rae’s shirts—an oversize button-up with the sleeves cut off that Rae had bought at a charity shop junior year. “Will you show me what you were working on?” Clara asked.
“Yeah,” Rae said. “But fair warning: It’s still pretty rough.” She and Clara bowed over the sketchbook as Rae flipped through the pictures she’d drawn over the nearly two weeks they’d been gone—the first one was of the Seine, a river of glittering black ink that sliced through the center of the page, Clara sitting on its bank, her hair whipping around her face. Rae got to the pictures she’d drawn on that frenzied sleepless night in Amsterdam: one of the five of them sprawled out on the train from Paris; one of the houseboat party and teenagers dancing on a deck; one of Aubrey and Gabe by a canal, their bodies fluid with conversation, as fluid as the water they were balanced beside.
The last picture was drawn in ink—Rae hadn’t wanted to start with pencil; she’d wanted it to feel permanent.
It was Aubrey, Gabe, Clara, and Jonah. Waiting for a plane.
The woman at their gate picked up a phone and made an announcement. She told them to get their boarding passes and passports ready. There was a stir in the departure lounge as people began to gather their things.
“Here we go, kids.” Jonah slid his phone into his back pocket. “Real life begins right now.”
“This has been real life,” Clara said defensively.
“Fine,” Jonah said. “Real Life: Part Two.”
Gabe took Aubrey’s paperback and put it neatly in his bag for her. She looked cold, so he gave her his hoodie, and she pulled the sleeves down over her hands. They didn’t make eye contact, and they weren’t speaking right then, but Rae could almost hear the quiet words they weren’t saying, the plans they were silently making for all the upcoming days they’d have together.
Next to her, Clara had gone back to examining the picture. “You didn’t add yourself,” she said.
“Huh?” Rae said.
“This sketch. It’s of all of us. But you should be in it, too. Maybe you can draw another from a picture.” She took Rae’s camera bag and waved down their friends. “No one’s allowed to leave yet!”
Aubrey groaned. “But it’s so late. And we all look sleepy.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Clara said. “These are our last minutes in Barcelona. We need an honest representation of how they happened.” She herded them into a group by the line of people boarding the plane. Clara held the camera out in front of them.
“This will never work,” Jonah said.
“Can you even tell if we’re all in it?” Gabe asked.
“It’s totally fine if I’m not!” Aubrey said.
“Guys,” Rae said, “Clara will make this rad, trust me.”
“Thank you.” Clara kissed Rae’s cheek. And Rae closed her eyes. And as she did, the flash went off in front of her, a bright purple-blue starburst. Everyone yelped and complained.
Another announcement came from their gate. A final call for boarding. Aubrey, Gabe, and Jonah made their way into the line, but Clara and Rae lingered for one more moment.
“We should check the picture,” Clara said. “Make sure it looks all right.”
“Let’s post it online right now,” Rae said. “Aubrey will love us.”
But Jonah was right—it hadn’t worked at all. Rae’s eyes were closed, and Clara’s face was a pale smudge as she kissed her cheek. Jonah was sticking out his tongue, and Gabe and Aubrey weren’t looking at the camera, because they were looking at each other.
It almost seemed like an illusion. The five of them in this completely new arrangement. Standing together in a way that, when this trip began, they never could have dreamed of. But also, it made perfect sense.
Completely different.
Exactly the same.
“Rae?” Clara whispered. Their hands clasped. “It’s time to go.”
“Okay,” Rae said, but she kissed Clara one last time. It was a kiss to make her grounded, a kiss to make her still. A kiss to let her swallow every last fragile second of this day and this trip. Rae felt those seconds filling her lungs. She felt each one freezing, like a photograph she could take out and look at later.
The kiss ended, and color blotched Clara’s cheeks. “We should go,” she said. “Are you ready?”
Rae squeezed Clara’s hand in return. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready now.”
Looking for the latest news on your favorite YA authors?
Want early access to new books and the chance to win advance copies?
Bring the (book) party to your in-box with the NOVL e-newsletter:
theNOVL.com/enewsletter
Join the NOVL community:
theNOVL.com
Twitter.com/TheNovl
Instagram.com/TheNovl
Facebook.com/TheNovl
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing this novel was a little bit like interrailing through Europe. Sometimes it was all beautiful views and gelato in the sunshine. Other times? It was more like losing my passport and sobbing in random train stations. I’m lucky to have been surrounded by so many people who helped me draw the lines that would eventually connect this story.
Molly Ker Hawn: You are a superstar and superhero. It’s impossible to overstate how grateful I am to have you in my corner, so I’ll just say this—I could bake you a million chocolate chip shortbreads as a gesture of thanks and still owe you a million more.
Pam Gruber: Your humor, heart, and guiding hand kept this book on track even when I feared it was going off the rails. (Sorry for all the train metaphors!) Thank you for the wit and wisdom you brought to Aubrey and Rae’s story and for never losing faith that it would come together in the end.
This cross-continental gal hit the jackpot when she found her home at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers in the US and UK. Bouquets of roses to these members of Team USA: Farrin Jacobs, Megan Tingley, Victoria Stapleton, Hannah Milton, Stef Hoffman, Jessica Shoffel, Danielle Yadao, Karina Granda, and Jen Graham. And to Tina McIntyre, who has supported me through every iteration of my publishing career. Bouquets of roses as well to these members of Team UK: Kate Agar, Stephanie Allen, Laure Pernette, Emily Thomas, and Sophie Burdess.
Thank you to everyone at The Bent Agency, and to all the foreign co-agents and publishers who bring stories to readers around the world.
My innumerable thanks also to the librarians, booksellers, and book bloggers who work so tirelessly to champion novels and find them homes.
Thank you to the wonderful YA community for making me feel so welcome this past year. I can’t name you all, but I can at least try: Alwyn Hamilton, Stephanie Kate Strohm, Martin Stewart, Jennifer E. Smith, Becky Albertalli, Alison Cherry, Katherine Webber, Carlie Sorosiak, Elizabeth Eulberg, Stephanie Garber, Emily Bain Murphy, Cat Clarke, Rebecca Barrow, Harriet Reuter Hapgood, Alexia Casale, Birdie Milano, Meira Drazin, and Ali Standish. Not to mention the awesome, badass Writing Weasels: Kat Ellis, Dawn Kurtagich, Fox Benwell, Marieke Nijkamp, Jenn Faughnan (Jenniely), David Purse, Ronni Davis, Tatum Flynn, Emma Jackson, and Simon Clark.
To Mom, Dad, Jessica, Cecil (and Malfi! and Ally!): I can’t thank you enough for putting up with me when I was in the Existential Crisis phase(s) of drafting this book. Here’s to all that swimming pool therapy and a hurricane wedding.
Thank you, Julie Haack, for being a best friend and a home all wrapped in one. Let’s eat pumpkin cupcakes and sing Sufjan to JoLaz soon, all right?
Thank you to Erica Rutter for flying across the world, and to Susan Manly and Angus Stewart for always making an occasion for cake. Additional thanks to every friend who helped me celebrate the first book and get through a bad case of Second-Novel Syndrome, including Laura Gragtmans, Amanda Lanceter, Amanda Evans, Jennifer Brutosky, Jamie Cumby, and Maria Sequeira Mendes. I owe each and ev
ery one of you a coffee!
Last but never least, thank you so much to Rachel Holmes. You are a softer version of Rae and the better half of me. Thank you for taking me to all the places mentioned in this book and for sitting next to me on countless trains, late-night flights, and long journeys home. It makes so much sense that every love story I ever write will begin and end with you.
The Summer of Us Page 23