by McCall Hoyle
I’ve laid my heart on the line, and all it’s earned me is a bunch of blank stares.
Chatham releases my hand. “I don’t know about y’all, but I don’t feel like talking about meter or syntax after that.” He chuckles, but his weak attempt at humor sails over the heads of the audience.
Everyone looks to Ms. Ringgold. She blinks several times, presses her lips into a thin line, and shakes her head. I’m pretty sure it’s not the fluorescent lighting that’s making her eyes water.
“Then let’s close with an excerpt from our favorite poem.” Chatham steps toward the class, sweeping an open arm in my direction. The boy knows how to work a room.
All eyes are on me. My lips part. “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers—” My voice shakes. I start over.
“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all.”
I finish loud and strong, hoping for some positive reinforcement—maybe a few smiles or a thumbs-up. But my classmates just stare.
Tears sting my eyes. My vision blurs. I bite my lip. I absolutely refuse to cry in front of these people. The old Emilie would bolt right about now. The new Emilie stands her ground, glancing around the room. Ayla and I lock eyes, and she smiles.
A slow, methodical, clap-pause-clap sounds to my left. I survey the group for the random applause giver.
It’s Maddie.
Our eyes meet, and she stands, clapping louder and faster. Ayla stands to join her. The rest of the class follows. Chatham wraps his arms around me, his heart beating against mine in an iambic tetrameter that would make Emily Dickinson proud. Hitch barks, and the room erupts in laughter.
Dickinson was a genius. I totally get what she meant. Hope is a thing with feathers. It’s fluttering inside of me right now like hummingbird wings. Maybe that’s what’s been there inside of me all along: hope.
As Chatham, Hitch, and I return to our seats, people pat my back. Someone ruffles Hitch’s fur and congratulates us as we weave our way to the back of the crowded room.
I wish Mom could see this.
Or Dad.
I slide into my seat. The charm bracelet jingles on my wrist. I remember the inscription on the back of the lighthouse.
He will always light our way.
And he did today. He lit my way with industrial strength, thousand-watt bulbs, and I love him.
The class finally settles down, and Ms. Ringgold spends the rest of the period talking about the significance of poetry and prose to enlighten audiences. She keeps referring to how I was able to use Dickinson’s theme of hope to deliver my message today.
With the exception of the near drowning this morning, today has been amazing. In World History, Maddie tells me her cousin has epilepsy. She thought I did a really great thing explaining my seizures to our peers. It’s one more reminder of how self-absorbed I’ve been. Thank God I’ve learned my lesson.
Chatham sits with the lit-mag crew at lunch. Ayla and I make plans to hang out this weekend.
But the highlight of the day is walking out of seventh period with my best friend leading the way in his green-and-red vest and Chatham waiting outside the door to walk me to the car-rider line.
“I could take you home.” He slings my backpack over his right shoulder, pulling me into his side with his left.
I smile. “I know. How ’bout tomorrow? I need to talk to my mom today.”
We push through the front doors. She’s first in line.
Chatham kisses me on the cheek in front of God and everyone. My heart beats out a little happy dance inside my chest. I could still seize at school or with Chatham, but somehow I feel like now that my secret’s out in the open, I can handle it if I do.
He opens both passenger-side doors for me and Hitch and greets Mom.
“Thanks, Chatham.” She leans across the console to speak to him.
“Any time.” He shuts the door.
I roll down the window. “Call me later. Okay?”
“Okay.” He waves as we’re pulling away.
“How was your day?” Mom asks, turning left onto the bypass.
Hitch lays down on the backseat, exhausted from watching over me all day.
“Great.” I turn toward her in my seat. “The bracelet helped.”
She keeps her eyes on the road but takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze my arm. “Good.”
The sun gleams on the hood of the car. I inhale, basking in the moment. The world is full of opportunity, like the open sea. My heart is light—lighter than it’s been in ages—floating on a wave of possibility.
Mom and I needed to reset our course. Now that we have, we’re ready to buoy one another, ready to dive back into life—ready to swim.
Acknowledgments
This book has been a lot like a team sport. It never would have made it to the big game without coaches, cheerleaders, trainers, equipment managers, teammates, and of course a few fans.
First, thank you, editor extraordinaire Jillian Manning. You had a vision for Emilie. Her story is a thousand times stronger because of you. I am forever grateful to everyone on the Blink/HarperCollins team.
Also, thank you to my dream agent, Amanda Leuck. Without you, this manuscript would be collecting dust under a bed or wasting space on a hard drive.
Thanks also to my lovely critique partners, Kim MacCarron, Holly Bodger, and especially Amy DeLuca, who has been with me since day one. I’m forever grateful to Alan Arena, who gave up coveted video game time to read for me, and to Nancy Jackson and her red pen. And thanks to Laura Baker and her Discovering Story Magic classes.
This book would not have been possible without my Georgia Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America tribes. Thanks especially to Sia Huff, Tammy Schubert, and of course my 2014 Dreamweaver and 2016 Mermaid sisters.
Then there are students past and present who cheered for me and loved me as much as I loved them. Wildcats, Raiders, Mustangs, and War Eagles, look at my face. Thanks for making me want to come to school every day and for not complaining when I dinged you with the occasional flying Starburst.
Finally, thanks to my supportive family. I have the best mother-in-law and father-in-law a girl could dream of and a stepfather who is also a friend. My brother, Mickey, and sister, Nicole, always believed in me. My parents, Emilie and Roger, loved me unconditionally. My children, Beattie and Trey, loved me and didn’t complain too much when I sat hunched over the computer for hours on end.
And of course, every strong team needs an even stronger head coach. My husband, Dusty, is the real thing at work and home. He teaches middle school and coaches basketball and deserves all the credit for keeping the crazy team that is our family together as I write.
Thank you all from the bottom of my heart and God bless.
The Thing with Feathers Discussion Questions
1.Emilie is set on keeping her epilepsy secret. Why do you think she fights so hard to keep her friends from knowing about her condition? If you were her, would you do the same? Why or why not?
2.When Emilie first meets Chatham and Ayla, she stereotypes them based on their appearances and her first impressions. Discuss a time when you stereotyped someone, or a time that someone judged you before they got to know you.
3.Hitch and Emilie share a special bond. Consider your own relationship with animals. Have you ever experienced this kind of connection? If so, when?
4.Chatham tells Emilie that people should share their gifts with the world. Do you have any gifts that you choose to keep to yourself? Do you know anyone who does? Why do you think someone would keep a gift worth sharing to herself?
5.Each chapter of the book opens with an Emily Dickinson quotation. Choose your favorite chapter and discuss how the quotation relates to the story and to Emilie’s character.
6.Relationships are often tricky. How do Emilie’s relationships with Ayla, Chatham, and her mom create inte
rnal and external conflicts?
7.To protect her secrets, Emilie sometimes finds herself lying to those closest to her. Have you ever told a lie to protect yourself? What happened as a result?
8.Emilie overcomes her fear of heights when she climbs Bodie Lighthouse. When was a time you pushed beyond your limits and experienced success?
9.Emilie is a changed person by the end of the story. Consider how the tone of her body language and words changes from the first to the last chapter of the book. What physical and emotional evidence do you see to prove this change in Emilie?
10.Emilie eventually learns to believe in hope, and even embraces it as a theme for her life. If you could write a theme for your own life, what would it be?
About the Author
McCall Hoyle writes honest YA novels about friendship, first love, and girls finding the strength to overcome great challenges. She is also a high school English teacher. Her own less-than-perfect teenage experiences and those of the girls she teaches inspire many of the struggles in her books. When she’s not reading or writing, she’s spending time with her family and their odd assortment of pets—a food-obsessed beagle, a grumpy rescue cat, and a three-and-a-half-legged kitten. She has an English degree from Columbia College and a master’s degree from Georgia State University. She lives in a cottage in the woods in North Georgia, where she reads and writes every day. Learn more at mcallhoyle.com.