“Are you any good?”
“Ouch?” He puts one hand over his heart, and I fall into his chest, laughing.
“No, no, no! I just mean I need serious help if I’m going to make the team.”
“Repeat after me.” He lifts one of my hands up and places the other one over my heart like I’m taking a vow. I wonder where the butterfly got a Taser. “I am.”
“I am.”
“The greatest.”
“The greatest.”
“Smartest.”
“Smartest.”
“Most beautiful.”
I snort.
“Say it: most beautiful.”
“Hottest, drop-dead-gorgeousest, sexiest . . .”
He smiles. “Softballerina, honors student, friend, dress designer, relocation advisor—”
Lepidopterist, pipes in B-fly.
“Wow,” I say, laughing. “I’m kind of big deal.”
He wraps his arms around me, and I can feel the heat of his hands through the mesh of my dress, and the heat of his chest against mine.
“You are a very big deal.”
“Huge,” I whisper, and kiss him again.
In the driveway Maggie gets out of her seat to greet us, to hug Jackson, and to kiss me on the cheek. “Took you long enough,” she says, and squeezes me tight. “Jeez, did you get taller?”
As I’m getting into the car, Jackson’s mom calls out from the door, holding up some kind of cream-colored wrap. “Greer honey, it’s freezing out. You want to bring something to cover up?”
Maggie and Jackson turn to me, waiting. They would tell me, I think, that it’s okay if I do.
“No, thank you!” I call back. “I’m good.”
And I am.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you for reading this book. I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing it.
If I was a re-lo advisor, I’d make a special section in the binder called Resources for Writers of Young Adult Novels Featuring Brainy/Sporty Narrators With Imaginary Pet Butterflies (Even If You Aren’t Actually Re-Locating), and then I’d put these people in it:
My editor, Andrew Karre, who should be a professional question asker. Or maybe he is a professional question asker. Andrew’s instincts on where a story needs more and where less, as well as his particular brand of esoteric nerdiness, made this book a hundred times better. And about 15 percent longer.
My agent, Tina Dubois, who should be a professional question answerer. Or really she is a professional question answerer. She knows all the things, including when to step back and let me figure out for myself the things she already knew.
Erin Downing, without whom I might still be waiting impatiently for responses to query letters; Gae Polisner, who is always generous and candid with advice; and Jeff Shotts, who is who I mean when I say that I’ve got a guy on the inside. If you haven’t read all the books they’ve made, I don’t know what you’re doing reading these acknowledgments. And Danny Weinkauf, who was wonderfully kind at just the right moment, and in whose honor I bought and wear a pair of red pants.
Julie Strauss-Gabel, Melissa Faulner, Natalie Vielkind, Anna Booth, Rob Farren, Anne Heausler, Maggie Edkins, Jennifer Dee, Chloe Goodhart, and their colleagues at Dutton and Penguin Random House, who pushed for, pushed on, and simply pushed this story. Their work is why my work works. Ana Hard, who drew a braid so beautiful it makes me want to grow my hair out. And the only fitting way to thank Caitlin Whalen is for me to name her firstborn someday. Snapdragon? Carlsbad? Prunilda? I’ll keep thinking.
Tamara Kawar, Roxane Edouard, Savanna Wicks, Lia Chan, Randie Adler, and their colleagues at ICM Partners and Curtis Brown UK, who look out for both Greer and me, even on other continents and in other languages. I wish them each zwanzig Apfelkuchens und ein BMW, at least.
Kris Causton, Mark Zukor, Jen Aspengren, Mike Smith, Tracy Kollin Smith, Heather Eisenmenger, Sharon DeMark, and Lisa Von Drasek, who read the book before it was quite a book and gave excellent feedback and/or pushback. Their encouragement was and is the mental equivalent of an entire crate of Lärabars. Rose Eisenmenger and Becca Smith, excellent mathematicians/volleyball players, who provided content expertise even during AP testing weeks.
And the people I’m most grateful for in the world: Lee, who not only cleared the path but made sure there were lights, footholds, snacks, and the very best company along it. And Eli and Davie, who make everything that’s worth doing worth doing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Zimmermann is a multiple-time champion of the Twin Cities Moth and Word Sprout story slams, and she was chosen to participate in the 2018 Listen To Your Mother storytelling show. She lives with her family in Minneapolis, MN. My Eyes Are Up Here is her first novel.
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My Eyes Are Up Here Page 26