by Gina Linko
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. We had done that. Made that possible.
Tempest leaned over and reached into a drawer in the nightstand. She worked at opening a Band-Aid for my elbow.
I knew that tomorrow I would let this card, with our tiny fingerprints on it, blow away in that milkweed field, just like the image from my dream so many weeks ago. I didn’t need to be reminded that Tempest and I were different, or that we were the same. We were both and neither.
Some things are bigger than words or paper or fingerprints. Some things need no reminders.
Tempest slapped a Band-Aid onto my arm, and then we both lay down in our beds.
I fingered my copper cuff and listened to Tempest’s breathing, and I let mine match hers. And I was me again. A new me. A growing-up me, evolving, changing.
“I was so sure this was going to be our last summer together,” Tempest said sleepily. “I’m so glad it’s not.”
“I know,” I said, turning on my side. And there was my sister, across from me, her silhouette outlined by moonlight. “It could’ve been the worst summer ever. It could’ve been the end.”
“But it’s not. It’s definitely not,” Tempest agreed.
And I knew, back in the recesses of my brain, that this summer would be the time I would forever look back on as the summer. The best summer. The one to compare all others to.
The summer my sister and I learned how to grow up, on our own terms.
The summer we learned what to pull close to our hearts, what was worth fighting for.
The summer we bested the moon.
Acknowledgments
Heartfelt gratitude goes out to my editor extraordinaire, Rachel Stark, for seeing a spark in Tally and Tempest, and working tirelessly to forge this book into a truly special story. Thank you to Caryn Wiseman, my agent and friend, for believing in my writing for so many years now. Thank you to Manuel Šumberac and Sammy Yuen for this enchanting, bittersweet cover, and to Joshua Barnaby, Ming Liu, Jenn Chan, Sarah Dean, Alison Weiss, Diane Wood, Bethany Bryan, Emma Dubin, and everyone at Sky Pony Press for their unwavering support of Flower Moon. It means the world to me.
And, of course, thank you to my dear readers. For you, I have a special secret. Like Tally Jo Trimble, if you look inside yourself, deep down, in that most secret corner of your heart, you’ll find that you’ve got something too. Call it magic, call it power, call it whatever you like. It’s yours, and know this: I believe in you.