I couldn’t see the tie’s details from here, but I could tell the colors didn’t match the sweater—it was stained as well. And the tie looked all wrong against the sweater’s graceful neckline. “What is that?” said Nia, joining us in the doorway.
“It’s a tie,” we all heard, and turned to see Amanda, standing behind us, her hands on her hips, the light behind her so we couldn’t see her expression, only make out from her tone of voice that she was one part amused, three parts intrigued.
“Shall we go in?” Amanda said. I walked in first, Callie after me, then Nia, Hal, and Amanda. Kids were staring, it couldn’t be denied. After all, Amanda had disappeared, then Thornhill had been attacked, then Callie, Hal, Nia, and I had supposedly bolted during a fire drill in the U.S. Capitol during a field trip the week before. And now here we all were, the five of us back in school with no disciplinary action being taken. Thornhill was back in his office, giving out detentions as if he’d never been gone. Except, oh, yeah, Thornhill and Amanda were letting everyone know they were father and daughter, and living together. Oh, and Amanda was back in school. Needless to say, we were going to be attracting attention for a little while.
But it could have been worse. We all could have started accessorizing with vintage neckties.
“Did she get that vintage thing from you?” Nia asked, once we were all sitting down at a table.
“You think the partial exchange of blood left her a little bit more of an outsider than she was?” Hal asked.
“But look,” said Callie. “She’s not choosing to be an outsider. She never would. Lexi’s muscling her out. Heidi’s lost her edge—her power was to get people to do whatever she wanted, remember?”
“So what’s with the tie?” I said.
Amanda raised her eyebrows. “Maybe she did get a little bit of me.”
“You mean she got the whole vintage look, but didn’t get the sense to wear it right? ” Hal asked.
Amanda smiled. She stirred her chocolate milk with a straw. Pointedly ignoring the question, she turned to Callie. “Nice having your mom back?” she asked.
Callie blushed. “My parents are so happy to be back together, it’s actually embarrassing. Last night I came down to get a glass of water and they were slow-dancing in the kitchen.”
“Empanada?” Nia said, offering them around.
“Baklava?” I said, because this week, with no secret meetings to attend, my mom had filled the house with food.
“Maybe my mom will pack me something I can share too,” Callie said, biting off the corner of her empanada.
“Yeah, about that,” said Hal. Callie looked up, uncomprehending. “I don’t know if any of us are up to eating—or drinking—any of your mom’s ‘concoctions’ any time soon.”
Callie threw a carrot stick in Hal’s direction and he laughed. We all did. Including Amanda.
It was great to see her laughing. She didn’t have to be guarded. She didn’t have to wonder who was watching her, how long it would be before she had to skip town and start living under a new name. She had a dad now, a house, and her sister was back at college in D.C. but just a phone call away. And, oh yeah, Amanda had us too.
You see, Callie, Hal, Nia, and I, we still divided our lives into two parts—before Amanda and after. We had all made sacrifices: Amanda’s mom, my dad, and other C33s had given up their lives. But now the secrets were over. Our lives made sense again. We were with Amanda like we’d always wanted to be. We weren’t her guides anymore. We were her friends.
MANY THANKS
As you all know by now, when Amanda disappeared, I was determined to find her on my own. But I couldn’t. If there’s anything you can learn from my journey, it’s this: Sometimes you need a little help from your friends.
So now I want to send a shout-out of thanks to all my friends at theamandaproject.com. You might not have known I was reading, but trust me, I pored over every word you wrote. Before I hooked up with Nia, Callie, and Hal, you guys were my lifeline.
I wish I could thank every person who made a comment that gave me an insight, or wrote a poem that made me feel like I wasn’t alone in my search. Here’s a super-short list representing some of the many, many people without whom this book—and search—could not have been concluded.
—ZOE
SPECIAL KUDOS2
Kenzi
Habbinson
AriannaAdore
Astoriamiller
MariaH
Bubblesnsky
Stef Stone
HannahRox
BlueBerries
Bellaronda
Primaplus
S.he.b.lie.vd
Mille#32
Loicamar
AllieK
2Q2Q1
KellyBlack
Jester
ElizabethMop
From the Website
FASCINATING STORIES AND ARTWORK
ABOUT AMANDA CONTINUE TO FLOOD
IN FROM ALL OVER. TURN THE PAGE FOR
ANOTHER TOTALLY AMAZING PIECE!
—HAL, CALLIE, NIA, AND ZOE
AMANDA VALENTINO
Amanda and I were polar opposites. She preferred change and I preferred constant routine. She always said, with a large smile on her face, “Change is the only permanent thing, so you should be willing to change!”
I, being such a social leper, was drab and quite hesitant.
Amanda and I were not intentionally friends. It just happened because it happened. I could list all the things I was indifferent to that Amanda was not, but then we would be here all day.
If you loved Amanda, you would certainly hate me—that’s just how I felt. In my high school in New York, I wouldn’t ever expect so much as a slight wave toward me from my classmates. I was an outcast and a loser.
Maybe if I hadn’t met Amanda, I would still be dreading the weekdays. I never thought I would ever change. I never thought change was necessary. I just never put thought into it, but Amanda injected the subject into the conversation every time.
Once when we were just hanging out on some swings, Amanda said, “You know what? I love parks. They’re peaceful and beautiful.” She was gazing out onto the green fields. I figured that Amanda loved anything that was peaceful. I figured that, as her guide, I would have to be there whenever she needed help, which she didn’t need most of the time.
“Yeah? You think so?” I asked. The words just fell out of my mouth as my eyes focused on the dirty pile of trash next to one of the park benches.
“I do,” Amanda said softly. Then she locked eyes with me before speaking again. “Don’t you?”
I felt that the answer had to be yes.
“I believe that a park is just a place. You can make any place a peaceful and beautiful place,” I said.
She cocked her head to the side. “That may be true, but parks in general are beautiful. No?” she questioned. Where was she heading with this? What did she want me to say?
“Sometimes . . .” I trailed off.
“If you can make any place peaceful and beautiful, what do you need to do if it’s the opposite?” she asked. She was staring at me, although my face turned away from her, facing the field.
If something is the opposite of peaceful and beautiful, what do you do to make it peaceful and beautiful?
She knew that I wasn’t going to think parks were beautiful. She knew that I was going to lecture her that everything was not rainbows and sunshine.
“You have to change it,” I stated. There it was. As clear as day.
“Right. So change is good,” said Amanda, with a slight questioning inflection. She wanted me to agree.
“Correct, change is good. In that case. But I’m not willing to change, Amanda,” I almost whined. Amanda’s head tilted back as she laughed. Her blonde wig flowed in the breeze.
“Change is good for everyone, Lauren. Change is good for everyone.” Amanda ended the conversation right then. How was I supposed to argue when I secretly knew it was true?
&
nbsp; Maybe if Amanda had not gotten it into my head that change is good, I would still be skulking through the halls of the school, trying to go unnoticed.
Now, thanks to Amanda, I’m no longer the social leper I used to be.
Amanda’s probably helped us all in ways we never imagined. But she has. And she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me—my savior, Amanda Valentino.
—JUMPINGBEAN
Jumpingbean is fifteen years old.
Member Since: December 6, 2010
She always believed that Amanda was telling the truth.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CATHLEEN DAVITT BELL is the author of two novels, Slipping and Little Blog on the Prairie. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her family. You can visit her online at www.cathleendavittbell.com.
This is the story of AMANDA VALENTINO. She makes things happen for her own reasons.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
CREDITS
Book design by Polly Kanevsky and Dale Robbins
COPYRIGHT
HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
Unraveled
Text copyright © 2012 by Fourth Story Media
Illustrations copyright © 2012 by Fourth Story Media
Fourth Story Media, 115 South Street, 4F, New York, NY 10038
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-0-06-174219-4
Epub Edition © JUNE 2012 ISBN:9780062114297
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First Edition
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1 C33-2990 continues to display a troubling tendency to sabotage experiments. In this case, subject was effectively sedated.
2 And to those of you who know kudos is a Greek word, even more kudos. My yiayia would be very proud!
The Amanda Project: Book 4: Unraveled Page 24