“Just make it super-whiny, please.”
He cracks up again and puts his arm around my shoulders. “All the whine for you, Sunshine.”
Then he starts to sing the kissing song, really soft and low, and I listen and get all achy in my chest, like I’m full of a bunch of sighs I need to let loose.
I turn Quinn’s letter around and around in my hands, finally unfolding one corner of the paper. Then another. Then the third and then the fourth and soon the letter’s wide open and I’m staring down at Quinn’s curvy handwriting.
Dear Sunny,
There’s a whole lot of stuff I want to say right now, but the most important thing is that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what happened that night in your room. I think I got scared. I think I freaked out that someone might actually like me back. I never knew that might be just as scary as having someone reject you, but I think it is. Because what if I move away? And what if you stop liking me one day? And what if you think you like girls but then meet some boy you like better? And what if people make fun of us when they see us hold hands?
But then I think about your poems and I wonder if we could be scared together? Maybe being scared is just part of liking someone, no matter who it is. And I want to be brave. I want to be brave and mighty and strong, just like Sunny St. James.
Will you meet me at the Fourth of July bonfire? If not, I understand. And if you just want to be friends, I get that too. You’re my BFF no matter what.
I hope I see you soon.
Love,
Quinn
PS My mom’s going to work at the aquarium!
Dave finishes the song and I finish the letter and my heart is a firework. It’s a million sparklers lit at the same time and tossed into the air.
I peer up at the sky. It’s already mostly dark, the last bits of sunset pink disappearing on the horizon. I sit up and fold the letter super-quick and super-messy.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, stuffing the letter into my pocket.
“Everything okay?” Dave asks.
“Yeah, yeah, but I’ve got to go to the bonfire now.” I yank the elastic out of my hair and run my fingers through all the blue knots. Did I put on deodorant after my shower? Did I brush my teeth this morning? I run back into the house and into my room to change, but then I see myself in the mirror. I’ve got on a plain navy tank top and cutoff shorts and you know what? That’s me. That’s been me the whole time. Old Life Sunny all mixed up with the new.
I pull on my black stomping boots and run back outside.
Kate’s on the porch by then, slipping on her sandals while balancing with one hand on Dave’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve got to go to the bonfire,” I say again, starting down the porch steps. Bike. Where’s my bike?
“We’re about to leave, honey,” she says. “You can walk over with us.”
“No, I need to go like now.” I can’t walk either. I need to run. Fly. Teleport.
I find Kate’s bike leaning against the front porch. I had left it at Lena’s house, of course, but she dropped it off this morning after we surfed. Now I toss my leg over it and start pedaling.
“Sunny, wait a second!” Kate says.
I skid to a stop and turn back to look at her. She’s halfway down the porch steps, worry all over her face.
“I’ll be at the bonfire,” I say. “I’ll be with Quinn, okay?”
Her brow wrinkles up, but only for a second. She and Dave share a look. He kisses her forehead and she nod-nod-nods before walking over to me and pulling me into her arms.
“I’m okay,” I whisper into her shoulder.
“I know you are,” she whispers back. “You’re amazing.”
Then she lets me go, her eyes all shiny. “Have fun, okay?”
Fun. Fun is such a little bitty tiny word.
Because if Quinn’s letter is really real, if I didn’t hallucinate it or something like that, I’m not going to have fun.
I’m going to change my whole world.
CHAPTER
35
I run across the sand in my boots. There are so many people here, all of them laughing and smiling while the sky goes from dark blue to black. I bump into a lot of them. Some yell out, annoyed, and some call my name, wanting me to stop, probably so they can marvel at the fact that I’m running across the sand in my boots like my life depends on it.
It’s been a long time since Juniper Island saw Sunny St. James run.
I don’t stop, though. I have a mission, the most important mission of my life, maybe.
Okay, not my life. I get that kissing the girl you like does not equal life. You don’t die on an operating table, come back with a whole new heart, and get to know your long-lost mermaid mom without learning a little about what life and death really mean. Still, this is a big deal. Liking Quinn is a big, awesome, amazing deal and I sure am going to act like it.
It’s getting darker and darker. Any minute, the fireworks will start, and I have to find Quinn before that.
There are a lot more people here than there were even a few minutes ago. The beach is packed, bodies everywhere, all of them loud and laughing, all of them with friends or girlfriends or boyfriends or partners.
Everyone but me.
Margot’s here too, over by the volleyball net. She’s with her swim team friends. When I catch her eyes, she lifts her hand to wave, but she doesn’t smile. Right then, I know she read my poem. Not only read it, but got it.
For a few seconds, I let myself feel a little sad. Because there’s no Margot and me anymore.
But then I count to three, take a deep breath, and move my feet through the sand. I keep moving, moving, moving, because my New Life is waiting.
At least, I hope she is.
I peer through all the people for purple anything, but all I see is a bunch of lavender bikini tops and lilac T-shirts and periwinkle cover-ups.
“Quinn?” I call out, but way too soft, because tears rise in my throat like a flood. I shove them back down, ready to go home and lick my wounds in private. Maybe call Lena and see if she wants to come over. Maybe she can bring Samaira and we can roast our own marshmallows in the fire pit out back. We can have a girls’ night and talk about the woes of love. Of course, Samaira’s too young to woe and Lena is all happy with Janesh, so really, I’ll be the only one woe-ing. But that’s okay. That’s what you’re supposed to be able to do with your family.
I’m already heading south when I finally, finally see her. Right there at the edge of the fire, sitting on a big piece of driftwood, is a girl with lavender hair and a white tank top dotted with a bunch of little—
I squint through the growing dark, just to make sure I’m seeing things right.
And I am. Quinn’s tank top is covered in tiny yellow suns. She’s looking down, trying to work a burnt-to-a-crisp marshmallow between a pair of graham crackers.
I walk over to her, my heart fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
“Hi,” I say when I reach her. Or try to. My voice is suddenly all squeaky and, with all the partying going on, gets swallowed right up.
“Hi,” I say louder.
Her head pops up and she drops her burnt marshmallow in the sand.
“Sorry,” I say, bending down to pick it up, which gives me a second to catch my breath, my thoughts, my heart. I inspect the marshmallow and it’s so charred, there’s nothing sticky left for the sand to stick to, so I hand it back to her, totally edible.
Well, edible if you like lumps of coal in your S’mores.
“Hi,” she says, standing up. “You’re… you’re here.”
I press my fingertips to my heart, telling it to calm down. “You’re here too.”
“Did you come with Kate?”
I shake my head.
“Lena?”
I smile. “No. Although I have a lot to tell you about all that.”
“You do?”
I nod again. “If you want to hear it, I me
an.”
“I do. Every word.”
“And I want to hear about your mom’s job. Does that mean you’re staying?”
She grins and the fire dances in her eyes and she’s so, so pretty.
“I’m staying,” she says. “My mom’s going part-time with National Geographic, so she’ll still travel some, but only a few times a year and mostly in the summer. I get to go to your school. Maybe even high school. I get to… I don’t know. See people so much I get sick of them.”
“Except me. You’d never get sick of me.”
“Never.”
We smile at each other and the world feels soft and floaty, like I’m looking at everything from under the blue sea.
It’s not a bad place to be.
“So you read my letter, huh?” she asks.
I take a step closer to her. “Yeah.”
She presses her hand to her stomach and takes a deep breath. She’s super-nervous. But so am I.
“We can be scared together,” I say, taking another little step.
“We can?” Her voice sounds shaky.
“Yeah. I mean, if you want.”
“I do. I really do.”
I nod. Another step. “You know what I was thinking about earlier?”
“What?” She steps closer to me now. We’re so close, our knees would bump together if I bent mine even a little.
“Our Kissing Quest.”
She smiles and looks down at her feet. “Yeah. Me too.”
“I mean, we wanted to find someone we liked, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you… have you found someone?”
She glances at me. She knows I like her. I tried to kiss her. I really, really obviously tried to kiss her. But her letter didn’t come right out and say she liked me. And call me a hopeless romantic—because I totally am one—but I really, really want to hear her say it.
“I totally have,” she says.
My heart leaps, skips, and gallops, does a few cartwheels and somersaults. It’s so happy right now.
“Want to go for a walk?” I ask.
Quinn’s eyes go wide, but she nods. I hold out my hand. She looks at it for a moment, then glances over my shoulder. I know who she sees—a bunch of kids our age over by the volleyball net, including Margot and Eliza and all the swim team girls, who might definitely see us if we held hands.
The whole town might see us, for all I know. I think I might be shaking, because it is scary, but I keep my hand out and let her make the decision.
Finally, after what feels like a billion years of me holding my breath, she presses her palm to mine and tangles our fingers up, lacing them together super-tight. It’s most definitely a girlfriend kind of handholding.
Quinn drops her S’more in the sand and we start walking next to the water. My heart pounds and we don’t say much. Her palm is sweaty and I’m super-glad because that means she’s nervous too. We’re doing all this together.
Fireworks start to explode over the sky, blooming all sort of colors and shapes. The ocean rushes to meet our feet, then runs away, a gentle, happy dance. After a few minutes of silent, perfect walking, the finale starts up. Quinn and I stop, turning toward the water so we can watch the sky fill with color and light. She squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. Then she turns toward me and I turn toward her. It’s just like I pictured it would be. She’s so pretty and she’s looking at me, smiling at me, and my heart is thrum-thrum-thrumming, strong and mighty and sure.
“Hey, Quinn?”
Her fingers tighten on mine. “Yeah?”
I swallow a whole bunch of times, my heart a sparkler in my chest.
“Can I kiss you?” I finally manage to ask.
She inhales a shaky breath and nods. So I take a step closer and she takes a step closer. I squeeze her hand and she swipes her thumb over my cheek and we both start giggling. But soon we stop giggling, and our foreheads touch and our noses bump, and then… well…
Step Three: Completed.
But really, I know my New Life is just beginning.
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Acknowledgments
I know authors aren’t supposed to pick favorites… and I’m not. But let’s just say that Sunny swept in and stole my heart, and I’m forever grateful to those who helped me in the process of bringing her to life.
Infinite thanks to Rebecca Podos, who is my amazing, talented, empathetic, empowering agent. I could not have dreamed up a better champion.
Thanks to my editor Kheryn Callender, who loved Sunny just as much as I did and chipped away at this story with a beautifully deft hand. Thank you, Nikki Garcia, for reading early and checking in on Quinn, and for your excitement on seeing Sunny and me through to the end. Which I hope is only the beginning.
Thank you, Megan Tingley, Alvina Ling, Victoria Stapleton, Michelle Campbell, Christie Michel, Siena Koncsol, and everyone at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, who not only created a warm, welcoming home for Sunny (and Ivy), but poured their own hearts and souls into these girls, lifting them up so others could find them. Your support and confidence mean so much.
So many thanks to Sasha Illingworth and Angela Taldone for the breathtaking cover design and for bringing Sunny’s very heart to life. And to Good Wives and Warriors for the stunning artwork. I think this cover is my favorite yet, and I honestly can’t look at it without smiling.
Thank you, Jen Graham, for your careful and thorough copyediting. You’re a miracle worker.
To my Nashville crew, I would not be who I am without you. Thank you, Lauren Thoman, Paige Crutcher, Courtney Stevens, Alisha Klapheke, Kristin O’Donnell Tubb, Erica Rodgers, Carla Schooler, Sarah Brown, and Christa Lafontaine, for all the miraculous ways you love.
As always, abundant thanks to everyone at Parnassus Books and Stephanie Appell, for your constant advocacy, excitement, and support for books for all ages.
Huge thanks to Katie, Kellie, Emily, Kay Kay, Jayme, and Hope for seeing me through my first full year of teaching while writing. You made me a better teacher and a better person, and this book wouldn’t be half as coherent without your support during the school day.
Thanks to Craig, Benjamin, and William, who have once again shown me patience, excitement, and love through another book.
Finally, thank you, dear reader, for entrusting me with your time, imagination, and heart. I hope Sunny helps you see just how mighty you really are.
The Mighty Heart of Sunny St. James Page 24