I just sat there. I tried to wipe her cheek with my sleeve. You know what, Rachel? I probably don’t need to feel sorry for myself as much as I do.
Eventually Michaela’s breaths evened out. She got up and got tissues to blow her nose. That was good, because apparently I do not dress in particularly absorbent fabric. She sat back down on the condom couch. “You’re still here,” she said.
“Of course.”
“You’re not freaked out?”
“No. I mean, that really sucks. A lot.”
“Do you think I’m a slut?”
“I…” I thought. “No.”
“Do you think I’m awful?”
“Of course not. Who am I to judge anybody?” I shrugged. “Listen, I watch a lot of political commentary. And I can tell you people mess up all the time. Like, huge. And most of them aren’t even sorry. They are sorry they get caught, maybe. But not sorry for the shit they caused other people.”
“Oh,” Michaela said. “Believe me, I’m sorry for that.”
“Well, then, there you go. You are more righteous than a good portion of our elected leaders.” I nodded again at her. Putting this in political terms calmed me. “All we can do is try to do better. And if you still like the sex with the ladies and the mens? Well? Again. Who am I to say? Thank you, Space Jesus. Amen.”
“What’s with the Space Jesus? You say that sometimes.” A faint smile played at her lips.
“He’s the only son of Space God,” I said.
“You’re ridiculous.” Michaela sniffle-laughed again.
“Yes.”
“But you’re here.”
“Also true.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I said. “Sooo … are we good?”
“Yeah. I guess,” she sighed.
“Listen. I’m done with politics forever. My life is in reporting things. Explaining the news to people. Like Lacey tells me, you should just own your shit and keep your head up.”
“Seriously?” she said. “That’s Lacey’s life advice?”
“One hundred percent.”
“That sounds…” Her smile was real now. “Reasonable.”
“Lacey actually asked about you,” I said.
“Oh, Lacey,” she said.
“Yeah. I failed her. And the blue room. Adam won.”
“Well, at least you tried,” she said.
“I could live my life by those words. Put them on my tombstone. ‘Here lies Brynn. At least she tried.’”
At that moment, Michaela’s grandmother emerged from a doorway at the back of the house. “Chaela, baby! It is time for your nap! Your little friend should run home now.” She looked at me. “Bet you need a nap, too, sweetie!”
“That is not a bad idea, ma’am,” I said.
“What a good girl.” She nodded approvingly at me.
“Bye, Brynnie,” said Michaela, pulling me off the couch and kind of shoving me toward the door. “She gets weird quick. Get out while you can,” she whispered. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Okay. Bye!” I called.
“What a good girl,” I heard from inside.
I walked down the hill, which wasn’t much more fun than going up the hill, but at least I could breathe.
Technically I professed my love to Michaela and she didn’t throw up. So I have another best new thing in the world. She could change her mind and throw up tomorrow, maybe. But she didn’t today. Sometimes you have to rejoice in what you can in this life.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
May 3
Subject:
And better yet
Dear Rachel Maddow,
Michaela wrote her number down for me again when I visited. I texted to let her know my new number.
She texted back. “I love you, too.”
I am still tired. But maybe I’ll try to stay awake a little more tomorrow. Just to read those words over, and over, and over.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Drafts
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
May 4
Subject:
Speaking of over
Dear Rachel Maddow,
I was feeling pretty good when I left. Until I walked out of the mall and saw Sarah sitting on the bench outside.
I stopped.
I remembered to breathe. I tried to remember what they taught me in the hospital. Take a breath. Then another.
I started to walk again. I had to get away from her as quickly as possible.
“Brynn, wait, please,” she said.
I didn’t have to listen. I owed her nothing, after what she tried to pull. But I stopped.
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said. “I really am. I know you must hate me. It’s just that Adam was so awful. And we were broken up, so we couldn’t fight him together. And I didn’t think.…”
“Oh, you thought,” I said. “You thought about what was good for you. In the end, that’s always what you do. I wasn’t worth keeping around. So it was ‘bye-bye, Brynn. Who cares what happens to her? She’s a fuckup anyway.’”
Tears welled in her eyes. “No, I swear, I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
I held up my hands. The fragile new skin knitting the pieces of me together strained with her every word.
“Good-bye, Sarah.” I turned and willed my feet to take me away from her. She said something else, but I tuned her out.
Everything hurt near her. But it hurt a little less the farther away I got.
Someday, maybe it wouldn’t hurt at all.
I’d just have to keep breathing until then.
Sincerely,
Brynn
Folder:
Sent
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
May 9
Subject:
RE:
Dear Ms. Harper,
After exhausting all possible avenues of information, we have come to the conclusion that you were in no way involved with harassing Adam Graff or any other student at Westing High. I know this semester, and this incident in particular, has caused you a great deal of stress. I offer my deepest apologies. Also, if I can do anything to help you during the rest of your time at Westing High, please don’t hesitate to reach out.
Sincerely,
Principal Mark Maynard
Folder:
Sent
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Date:
September 10
Subject:
Postscript
Dear Rachel Maddow,
We are so close to the next presidential election cycle. I imagine you sleep even less now than you do usually. It works out for me, because you are on TV way more often.
I tried to get Michaela to come over to Leigh and Erin’s to watch you. She claimed to have too much homework. She said she might only consider it if it were Chris Hayes.
The heart wants what it wants, I guess.
Justin is busy running things as a fair and just SGA president. (He listened to the will of the people and is trying a pilot program with a local farm to get green peas. The ketchup shortage remains a work in progress.) Michaela (who came back this fall) convinced me to go to summer school to improve my GPA even more. With all of that academic achievement (2.5!), I am back at the school paper with everyone’s blessing. Adam is gone, so we have all of the fancy new equipment, but none of the censorship. Sarah is gone, too; her parents pulled her out for online homeschool. I saw her one more time before she left. We didn’t even speak. She just broke down
crying. She just broke down, period.
I hope Sarah comes out of that all right, even if I never want to see her again. I really do. I know what it feels like, to be that low.
As it turned out, the school board superintendent committee seat opened up again once Adam no longer was around to fill it. Since the paper is the only thing I ever really cared about, there didn’t even need to be another runoff. Bianca ended up expressing her interest in the spot. It turns out she found everything inspiring. Since no one else wanted it, it became hers. She’s really into finding the right person to represent everyone’s interests.
Lacey is settled into Penn like a boss. Justin swoons like a diva, dramatically declaring he misses her most at least once a day. But that cannot possibly be true. Lacey is my heart. But my heart is off killing it Ivy-style, which keeps me going on the bad days.
Given what Ms. Yee just taught about chaos theory (and, oh, do I contribute to chaos), I’d like to think that maybe my shot at politics will one day contribute to the next female presidential candidate a little, itty-bitty bit. Like, if a viceroy butterfly flaps its wings in northern Mexico and that makes a storm that waters the crops in Maine, surely my bid for a seat of power at Westing High might somehow contribute to electing the first woman president. Though sure, another megalomaniacal solipsistic narcissistic dude bro might win against her. But I’d like to think he wouldn’t. And even if he did, there will be people like you to call him out.
And maybe, in some little, itty-bitty way—people like me.
Thank you again, Rachel, for your optimism and passion. Even if you don’t always feel it, you demonstrate it. And that’s been enough to keep me going.
Civic engagement is mostly just talking and listening to the people, Mr. Grimm says.
You kick ass at that every day.
So I will try to kick ass, too.
Your fan always,
Brynn
Acknowledgments
This book would be dedicated to my mother, but she did not approve of all the swearing. So I will instead thank her here for her lifelong love, support, and candid editorial comments.
I have also been blessed with so many family and friends who have supported me along the way. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, and as such have been forcing my writing on people just as long. I don’t want to miss anyone in print, but know that I cherish you. Thank you all.
Thank you to Catherine Drayton, agent extraordinaire, who was the first one to take a chance on a strange epistolary YA written to a real person. I try to be the best writer I can if only to impress you. Thanks also to the Inkwell team, all of whom I am glad to have in my corner.
Anna Roberto is a stone-cold genius of an editor and someone with whom I wish I could hang out every day. I am forever grateful to her and to the entire Feiwel & Friends team for their brilliance and expertise.
The VCFA Writing for Children and Young Adults MFA is the best decision I ever made. The faculty, particularly Na An, Amanda Jenkins, Daniel José Older, and Amy King picked me up, brushed me off, and gifted me their boundless knowledge and kind spirits. Thank you to them, the students and alumni, and to my beloved Dead Post-its Society for a powerful community that keeps me writing.
Thank you to the many other teachers I’ve had through the years, particularly those at Albright College and Boston University. Dr. William King, the Rev. Paul Clark, Dr. Bryan Stone, Dr. Claire Wolfteich, and Dr. Donna Freitas let me write creatively and about children’s literature to my heart’s content. I don’t know that I could come up with an exhaustive list of every great teacher I’ve had (Ms. McClain! Ms. Lech! Dr. Shirk! Dr. Pankratz! Dr. de Syon! Sra. Ozment! Dra. Meléndez! Dr. Huck! Dr. Warfield!), because looking back I spent an awful lot of time in school. But thanks to everyone who had the misfortune to educate me. I appreciate every last one of you.
I want to send a special shout-out to Josh Groban. Because I wrote a book and am mad with the power to put anything I want in print. Closer will always be my favorite album, Josh, in case you needed to know.
Thank you to all of my colleagues and students at Wheelock College. I have such great love and respect for you lot. Even if Wheelock won’t exist as such by the time this book comes out, know that it only ever really existed in all of you. Your passion, your drive, and your tremendous heart are its legacy that will abide. I am so, so grateful I got to be a part of your journey.
Finally, thank you to Peter, Katherine, and Charles, who make it nearly impossible to complete novels. I love you anyway.
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About the Author
Adrienne Kisner has a master’s and doctorate degree in theology from Boston University and was inspired to write Dear Rachel Maddow by her work with high school and college students. She is also a graduate of Vermont College of Fine Arts with an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults and can be found at www.adriennekisner.com. Dear Rachel Maddow is her debut, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
September
October
November
December
January
February
March
April
May
September
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Adrienne Kisner
A Feiwel and Friends Book
An imprint of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
fiercereads.com
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Neither Rachel Maddow nor any person or entity affiliated with The Rachel Maddow Show has sponsored or authorized this book, nor been involved in any way with its writing and publication.
Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017956981
Our eBooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945 ext. 5442 or by e-mail at [email protected].
First hardcover edition 2018
eBook edition June 2018
eISBN 9781250146014
Dear Rachel Maddow Page 22