by Robin Talley
And I could. I really could.
I could do anything. All of us could. We were only as limited as we let ourselves be.
Our future was wide open. And the future started today.
* * * * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book, you guys.
Our Own Private Universe is the book I’ve wanted to write ever since I knew I wanted to write books. And it’s the book I wish I’d had when I was a young-adult reader myself.
But it took a ton of time and work—by way more people than just me—to get this book into the shape it’s in now that you’re holding it. (Or reading a digital version of it. Or virtually experiencing it, if you’re reading this in the future and by now we all read books via brain implants or what have you.)
I have to start by thanking my amazing editor, T.S. Ferguson. T.S., I don’t know how many girl-on-girl hookup scenes you’d edited before this book came across your desk, but I know you didn’t blink an eye and dove right in when I sent you Our Own Private Universe, and the book is all the better for it.
And my agent, Jim McCarthy. I keep sending Jim queer books of all stripes, and he keeps helping me figure out exactly what to do with them. I can’t imagine navigating this strange career without Jim there to illuminate the murky path.
Thank you so much to the rest of the Harlequin TEEN team for helping my books find their place in the world, including Natashya Wilson, Michael Strother, Gigi Lau, Mary Luna, Siena Koncsol, Shara Alexander, Amy Jones, Bryn Collier, Evan Brown, Ashley McCallan, Olivia Gissing and Rebecca Snoddon.
So many thanks to my incredible critique partners, beta readers and awesome friends, who were a huge help as I developed the early drafts of this book (some of which were so different from the final version that they took place in an entirely different country, so thanks, guys, for helping me figure that out along with all the rest)—Anna-Marie McLemore, Justina Ireland, Miranda Kenneally, Jessica Spotswood, Andrea Colt, Kathleen Foucart, Tiffany Schmidt and Caroline Richmond.
Thank you to Darcy for being my inspiration every single day, even if it will be quite a few years before you’re old enough to read this book.
And thank you, most of all, to Julia. For everything, always.
Keep reading for an excerpt from LIES WE TELL OURSELVES by Robin Talley.
If you loved OUR OWN PRIVATE UNIVERSE, be sure to check out more amazing titles from critically acclaimed author Robin Talley!
In 1959 Virginia, the lives of two girls on opposite sides of the battle for civil rights will be changed forever. Boldly realistic and emotionally compelling, LIES WE TELL OURSELVES is a brave and stunning novel about finding truth amid the lies and finding your voice even when others are determined to silence it.
“Important. Brave. Necessary.”
—I.W. Gregorio, author of None of the Above
An emotional, empowering tale of what happens when love may not be enough to conquer all, WHAT WE LEFT BEHIND tells the groundbreaking story of two teens—one a lesbian and one genderqueer—whose relationship is tested when they’re separated for their first year of college.
Read them all now!
LIES WE TELL OURSELVES
WHAT WE LEFT BEHIND
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Did you enjoy OUR OWN PRIVATE UNIVERSE? Then you’ll absolutely fall in love with REBELS LIKE US—a brave and compelling story from author Liz Reinhardt!
Inspired by real events, REBELS LIKE US features an edgy, vivid voice and a heroine to cheer for.
When Agnes “Nes” Murphy-Pujols is forced to move from Brooklyn to middle-of-nowhere Georgia halfway through her senior year, she plans to keep her head down, graduate and get out. But her smart mouth soon gains her the ire of the administration and the school queen bee, and the interest of resident golden boy Doyle Rahn. With Doyle as her guide, Nes’s new home starts to grow on her. Then he tells her about Ebenezer High’s long-standing prom tradition: two proms. One black, one white. Soon, Doyle and Nes band together with a team of classmates to plan an alternate prom. But when a lighted cross is left burning in Nes’s yard, the alterna-prommers realize that bucking tradition comes at a price. Maybe, though, that makes taking a stand even more important.
Read it here!
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If you loved OUR OWN PRIVATE UNIVERSE, you won’t want to miss this heartfelt, hopeful, must-read romance—SOMETHING IN BETWEEN by Melissa de la Cruz, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Isle of the Lost and Return to the Isle of the Lost!
She had her whole life planned. She knew who she was and where she was going. Until the truth changed everything.
Jasmine de los Santos has always done what’s expected of her. Pretty and popular, she’s studied hard, made her Filipino immigrant parents proud and is ready to reap the rewards in the form of a full college scholarship.
And then everything shatters. A national scholar award invitation compels her parents to reveal the truth: their visas expired years ago. Her entire family is illegal. That means no scholarships, maybe no college at all and the very real threat of deportation.
Read it here!
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If you liked OUR OWN PRIVATE UNIVERSE, you won’t want to miss THE PROBLEM WITH FOREVER by #1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout!
Discover a riveting story of friendship, survival and finding your voice.
“Heartbreakingly real…a remarkable novel about the power of first love and the courage it takes to face your fears.”
—Kami Garcia, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Growing up, Mallory Dodge learned that the best way to survive was to say nothing. And even though it’s been four years since her nightmare ended, she’s beginning to worry that the fear that holds her back will last a lifetime. Now, after years of homeschooling, Mallory must face a new milestone—spending her senior year at a public high school. But she never imagined she’d run into Rider Stark, the friend and protector she hasn’t seen since childhood, on her very first day.
It doesn’t take long for Mallory to realize that the connection she shared with Rider never really faded. Yet soon it becomes apparent that she’s not the only one grappling with lingering scars from the past. And as she watches Rider’s life spiral out of control, Mallory must make a choice between staying silent and speaking out—for the people she loves, the life she wants and the truths that need to be heard.
Read it here!
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Lies We Tell Ourselves
by Robin Talley
LIE #1
There’s no need to be afraid
Jefferson High School, Davisburg, V
irginia
February 2, 1959
The white people are waiting for us.
Chuck sees them first. He’s gone out ahead of our group to peer around the corner by the hardware store. From there you can see all of Jefferson High.
The gleaming redbrick walls run forty feet high. The building is a block wide, and the windowpanes are spotless. A heavy concrete arch hangs over the two-story wood-and-glass doors at the front entrance.
The only thing between us and the school is the parking lot. And the white people.
We’ve all walked past Jefferson a thousand times before, but this will be the first time any of us steps inside. Until today, those big wooden doors might as well have been triple-locked, and we didn’t have the key.
Our school, on the other side of town, is only one story. It’s narrow—no wider than the Food Town. Our teachers put boards in the windows to cover the cracks in the glass, but that’s not enough to stop the wind from whistling past us at our desks.
Our old school, anyway. Jefferson is supposed to be our school now.
If we can make it through those big brown doors.
“They’re out there all right,” Chuck says when he comes back. He’s trying to smile, but he just looks frozen. “Somebody sent out the welcome committee.”
No one laughs. We can hear the white people. They’re shouting, but the sound is too disjointed for us to make out the words.
I’m glad. I don’t want to hear. I don’t want my little sister Ruth to hear it, either. I try to pull her closer to me, but she jerks away. Ruth will be fifteen in two weeks, and she already thinks she’s too old to need help from her big sister.
“If anything happens, you come find me, all right?” I whisper. “Don’t trust the teachers or the white people. Come straight to me.”
“I can take care of myself,” Ruth whispers back. She steps away from me and links arms with Yvonne, one of the other freshmen.
“What are you gonna do if they try something?” Chuck asks Ennis. He keeps his voice low, trying to blend in with the dull roar coming from the school, so the younger kids won’t hear him. Chuck, Ennis and I are the only three seniors in our group. Most of the others are freshmen and sophomores. “They’ve got some big guys on that football team.”
“Never mind that,” Ennis says, raising his voice so the others can hear. “They won’t try anything, not in school. All they’ll do is call us names, and we’ll just ignore them and keep walking. Isn’t that right, Sarah?”
“That’s right,” I echo. I want to sound in charge, like Mrs. Mullins, but my voice wobbles.
Ennis holds my eye. His face looks like Daddy’s did this morning, when he watched Ruth and me climb into the carpool station wagon. Like he’s taking a good, long look, in case he doesn’t get another chance.
Ennis sounds like Daddy, too. My father and Mrs. Mullins and the rest of the NAACP leaders have been coaching us on the rules since the summer, when the court first said the school board had to let us into the white school. Rule One: Ignore anything the white people say to you and keep walking. Rule Two: Always sit at the front of the classroom, near the door, so you can make a quick getaway if you need to. And Rule Three: Stay together whenever you possibly can.
“What if they spit on us?” one of the freshmen boys whispers. The ten of us are walking so tightly together down the narrow sidewalk we can’t help but hear each other now, but none of us makes any move to separate. “We’re supposed to stand there and take it?”
“You take it unless you want to get something worse after school lets out,” Chuck says.
There’s a glint in Chuck’s eye. I don’t think he’ll take anything he doesn’t want to take.
I wonder what he thinks is going to happen today. I wonder if he’s ready.
I thought I was. Now I’m not so sure.
“Listen up, everybody, this is important.” Ennis sounds serious and official, like the NAACP men. “Remember what they told us. Look straight ahead and act like you don’t hear the white people. If a teacher says something to you, you don’t talk back. Don’t let anybody get you alone in the bathroom or on the stairs. And no matter what happens, you just keep walking.”
“What if somebody tries to hang us from the flagpole?” the freshman says. “Do we just keep walking then, too?”
“You watch your mouth,” Chuck tells him. “You’ll scare the girls.”
I want to tell him the girls are plenty scared already.
Instead I straighten my shoulders and lift my head. The younger kids are watching me. I can’t let them see how my stomach is dropping to my feet. How the fear is buzzing in my ear like a mosquito that won’t be swatted away.
We round the corner. Across the street, Jefferson High School sweeps into view. The white people are spread out across the front steps and the massive parking lot. Now I know why we could hear the crowd so well. There must be hundreds of them. The whole student body, all standing there. Waiting.
“Just like I said,” Chuck says. He lets out a low whistle. “Our very own personal welcome wagon.”
Ahead of me, Ruth shivers, despite her bulky winter coat. Under it she’s wearing her favorite blue plaid dress with the crinoline slip and brand-new saddle shoes. I’m in my best white blouse, starched stiff. Our hair is done so nice it might as well be Easter Sunday. Mama fixed it last night, heating the hot combs on the stove and yanking each strand smooth. Everything’s topsy-turvy with school starting in February instead of September, but we’re all in our best clothes anyway. No one wants the white people to think we can’t afford things as nice as theirs.
I try to catch Chuck’s eye, but he isn’t paying attention to me. He’s looking at the crowd.
They’re watching us.
They’re shouting.
Each new voice is sharper and angrier than the last.
I still can’t make out what they’re saying, but we’re not far now.
I want to cover Ruth’s ears. She’d never let me. Besides, she’ll hear it soon enough no matter what I do.
Our group has gone quiet. The boys are done blustering. Ruth lets go of Yvonne and steps back toward me. Behind us, a girl hiccups.
What if one of them starts crying? If the white people see us in tears, they’ll laugh. They’ll think they’ve beaten us before we’ve begun. We have to look strong.
I close my eyes, take a long breath and recite in my clearest voice. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.”
Ruth joins in. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
Then, all ten of us, in the same breath. “He restoreth my soul.”
Some of them have spotted us from across the street. The white boys at the front of the crowd are pushing past each other to get the first look at us.
Police officers line the school’s sidewalks in front of the boys. They’re watching us, too.
I don’t bother looking back at them. The police aren’t here to help us. Their shiny badges are all that’s stopping them from yelling with the other white people. For all we know they trade in those badges for white sheets at night.
Then reporters are running toward us. A flashbulb goes off in my face. The heat singes my eyes. All I see is bright white pain.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
I want to reach for Ruth, but my hands are shaking. It’s all I can do to hold on to my books.
“Are you afraid?” a reporter shouts, shoving a microphone at my chin. “If you succeed, you’ll be the first Negroes to set foot in a white school in this state. What do you think will happen once you get inside?”
I step around him. Ruth is holding her head high. I lift mine, too.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of
mine enemies.
We’re almost at the parking lot now. We can hear the shouts.
“Here come the niggers!” yells a boy on the steps. “The niggers are coming!”
The rest of the crowd takes up his chant, as if they rehearsed it. “The niggers! The niggers! The niggers!”
I try to take Ruth’s hand. She shakes me away, but her shoulders are quivering.
I wish she wasn’t here with us. I wish she didn’t have to do this.
I wish I didn’t have to do this.
I think about what the white reporter said. If you succeed...
And if we don’t?
“It will be all right,” I tell Ruth.
But my words are drowned out in the shouting.
“Mau maus!”
“Tar babies!”
“Coons!”
And “nigger.” Over and over.
“Nigger! Nigger! Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!”
I’ve never been called a nigger in my life. Not until today.
We step over the curb. The white people jostle us, bumping up against us, trying to shove us back. We keep pushing forward, slowly, but it’s hard. The crowd isn’t moving, so we have to slide between them. Ennis and Chuck go in front, clearing a path, ignoring the elbows to their sides and shoves at their chests.
I want to put Ruth behind me, but then I couldn’t see her, and what if we got separated? What would I tell Mama and Daddy?
I grab her arm too tight, my fingers digging in. Ruth doesn’t complain. She leans in closer to me.
“Go back to Africa!” someone shouts by my ear. “We don’t want niggers in our school!”
Just walk. Get inside. Get Ruth inside. When the reporters go away everyone will calm down. If we can get through this part it will be all right.
My cup runneth over.
Ruth’s arm jerks away from me. I almost fall, my legs swaying dangerously under me, but I catch myself before I collapse.
I turn toward Ruth, or where she should be. Three older boys, their backs to me, are standing around my little sister, towering over her. One of them steps close to her. Too close. He knocks the books out of her arms, into the dirt.