by Amy Reed
Natalie’s getting ready to go to some fancy ballet college in New York called Juilliard. Lydia’s going to another fancy school called Alvin Ailey, where usually they require several years of training and an in-person audition, but her teacher pulled some strings and they accepted Lydia’s Winter Showcase video as her audition because of extenuating circumstances, i.e., her whole town being wiped out by a tsunami. Caleb wanted to pay for everything, but Lydia wouldn’t let him. I will never understand why she would choose waitressing and thousands of dollars of financial aid debt over getting a free ride, but that’s Lydia for you.
I’m going to miss her, but I’m trying not to think about that. Maybe I’m in denial. I keep thinking about the AA slogan “Denial is Not a River in Egypt” on the sign above Lynn A.’s empty chair, and I like to think it’s a message she left especially for me. And even though I still don’t know what it means, I’m assuming AA agrees with the therapy talk shows I used to watch that said denial is a big no-no, but they also weren’t too into negative thinking, and now that I think about it both AA and those shows were full of contradictions. The way I figure it, why should I spend these last couple months I have with Lydia thinking about how much I’m going to miss her? I can save those feelings for after she’s gone, when they’ll actually be relevant. That’s not denial; it’s common sense.
Before Caleb left, he taught me a lot about living in the moment. Apparently that Buddha guy he likes came up with the idea way before therapists did.
The days after the tsunami and the King’s death were a weird time for TV. Footage of devastation from the bomb and tsunami was followed by videos of people all over the planet dancing in the streets because they didn’t have to worry about being bombed anymore. Countless lives were destroyed while countless others were liberated, and all of these things were happening simultaneously, on the same planet, and there was room for all of it. One of the weirdest things was that a lot of the places that were hit the worst by the tsunami were also celebrating. People in San Francisco and Hawaii and Japan were dancing on top of flooded houses and cars while they were waiting to be rescued, like their loss wasn’t as important as the fact that the whole world was suddenly a lot less scared. And I think I sort of know how they felt. Because my house is gone and my town is gone and Caleb is gone (again) and Lydia’s going to be gone soon, and I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life, but I also have a girlfriend and a best friend, and I actually managed to graduate high school, and the world is way bigger than I ever realized, and I have a whole lot of unknown ahead of me, and it’s scary at the same time that it’s exciting, and all of those things can coexist, because I am not one thing. Nobody is.
Today is the Fourth of July, and I guess I’m feeling pretty patriotic. Lydia, Natalie, Ruth, and I are sitting on top of the water tower facing the sea. The sun is halfway in the ocean, and the sky is an explosion of the kind of fluorescent colors people always say you don’t see in nature, but here they are, and what’s more natural than a sunset? We’re waiting for the annual Fog Harbor fireworks show to start, but I’m pretty sure it won’t compare to this—just sitting here together, in the quiet at the end of the earth, waiting for night to fall. We survived a tsunami and the worst winter in history, and now the sea is calm, the sky is clear, the air is warm, and here we are, with a perfect view of infinity.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s a strange thing when a place you know becomes famous for all kinds of strange reasons, like rock stars and YA fantasy series. Before that, it was just where my family was from. I grew up listening to my dad and uncles’ and aunt’s stories and visiting that wild coast and those decaying towns. The fog and rain and tangy smell of pine needles and creosote are in my blood. So is the legacy of doing what it takes to survive. We are a family of survivors.
Thank you to my father, for proving everybody wrong. Thank you for teaching me about hard work and not taking anything for granted.
Thanks to my uncle Dave, for the tour, and to my cousins, for opening your home and family to that lost blue-eyed genius so many years ago. Maybe nobody could have saved him, but you were part of building the music that changed the world, and maybe your love helped him stay with us a little bit longer.
Maybe we can’t all go home again, but we can make new homes wherever we end up, and maybe the new ones can be better than we ever imagined possible.
Photo by Ed Glazar
My deepest gratitude to the following:
Amy Tipton, for a whole decade(!) of support and cheerleading. And to Michael Bourret, for many new adventures to come.
My soul mate editor, Liesa Abrams, who understands me, not just as a writer, but as a woman and human being. Thank you for your wisdom and insight, your big-picture brilliance, and your friendship.
Thank you to everyone at Simon Pulse who makes the book magic happen—Michelle Leo, Mara Anastas, Nicole Russo, Jessica Smith, everyone behind the scenes whose names I’ve never learned, and the tons of people I know I’m forgetting. I couldn’t do this without you. Also, how is possible that you’re all so cool? I want to come to the office and just hang out sometime.
Thank you to all the librarians, teachers, booksellers, and bloggers who champion my work and help lead young readers to the books they need to read.
I am not exaggerating when I say this book would be an unreadable garbage pile of clichés and half-baked ideas if it weren’t for these people and their generosity of time and brilliant feedback: Frankie Bolt, Jaye Robin Brown, Stefanie Kalem, Alison Knowles, Mark Oshiro, Brenda Rufener, and Amber Smith. I did not write this book alone. You are all on every page. Thank you for opening your hearts to my weird little world.
Shout-out to my Nebo gals, for three years and counting of refuge and solidarity.
Shout-out to my husband, Brian, for being my home. To my daughter, Elouise, for being my heart and greatest work.
Shout-out to everyone who continues to do the brave work of love even when the world is breaking. We are the ones who will rebuild it.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Brian Relph
AMY REED is the author of several novels for young adults, including The Boy and Girl Who Broke the World, The Nowhere Girls, Beautiful, and Clean. She also edited the anthology Our Stories, Our Voices: 21 YA Authors Get Real About Injustice, Empowerment, and Growing Up Female in America. Amy is a feminist, mother, and quadruple Virgo who enjoys running, making lists, and wandering around the mountains of western North Carolina, where she lives. You can find her online at www.amyreedfiction.com.
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Amy-Reed
Simon Pulse
Simon & Schuster, New York
ALSO BY AMY REED
We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.
* * *
Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.
CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP
Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON PULSE
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
First Simon Pulse hardcover edition July 2019
Text copyright © 2019 by Amy Reed
Front cover design and art copyright © 2019 by Kimberly Glyder
Jacket art direction by Sarah Creech
&nbs
p; All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Interior designed by Jess LaGreca
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Reed, Amy Lynn, author.
Title: The boy and girl who broke the world / by Amy Reed.
Description: First Simon Pulse hardcover edition. | New York : Simon Pulse, 2019. | Summary: In the near future, seniors Lydia and Billy form an unlikely friendship when their high schools are merged, bonding over their Washington town’s weird history and their unusual families.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018033062 (print) | LCCN 2018038757 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481481762 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781481481786 (eBook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Interpersonal relations—Fiction. | Family problems—Fiction. | High schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Orphans—Fiction. | Washington (State)—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.R2462 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.R2462 Bo 2019 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018033062