The Best Week That Never Happened

by Dallas Woodburn

  I don’t know where the image comes from. I don’t know how I know this. But the guy is Kai. And the girl is me. I feel it, as if the scene were real. I feel it, even though that’s impossible.

  “And you were so honest with me,” Kai continues. “In the dream, just like you are in real life. You didn’t buy any of my crap. You didn’t take any of my excuses. You kept telling me that I needed to trust in myself. That you believed in me and would never give up on me. When I woke up, I was filled with this overwhelming desire to take action. I needed to see you. I listened to that voice in my head that was insisting, Go to her, go to her. I trusted that voice. So here I am.”

  He gives a sheepish half shrug, looking so much like his little-boy self that, for a moment, I’m eight years old again. I’m ready to grab his hand and yank him along behind me—out of this bed, out of this hospital room, two kids trolling the hallways for lollipops. Time is a needle skipping between the grooves of a record.

  “My dream self sounds like a badass,” I say.

  Kai laughs. “She is. Just like your real self.” He leans in and smooths a strand of hair away from my forehead. His eyes lock onto mine. “Tegan Rossi,” he murmurs. “You dazzle me, you know that?”

  I laugh, looking past Kai’s shoulder at the wooden snowflake spinning gently in the afternoon sunlight. I don’t think I have ever dazzled anyone. Right now, in this scratchy hospital gown, in this bruised and swollen body, I feel the furthest thing from dazzling.

  “I’m a mess.” I sigh.

  The machines beep and whirr. Everything seems fragile. I think of my heart, expanding and constricting in my chest, and my tender bones, healing. I think of the faraway ocean waves in Hawaii, sweeping their graceful rhythm onto the sand, right at this very moment, and the next moment, and the next.

  “I’m serious,” Kai says. The room narrows around us. Everything fades away but his face. “You are a blaze of light. I’m so glad you held on. You didn’t leave.”

  There is a question in his eyes. I ache to answer it. Because I finally, wholeheartedly, know my response. Yes, yes. Bring on the cliff. I’m ready to leap.

  I reach up and pull him down toward me, meeting his lips with my own. His mouth is warm and tender, and he tastes like sweet mint gum, and I have the strongest sense of déjà vu. Like, somehow, this isn’t our first first kiss. Maybe because Kai is my best friend. Kissing him is both new and familiar. Both a dream and reality. The past and the present and the future, all wrapped up in this one moment.

  When we pull apart, we simply sit there for a few seconds, grinning goofily at each other.

  “Whoa,” Kai says.

  “Whoa,” I say.

  Later—after my mom comes in with smoothies and a fresh change of clothes, then hugs Kai hello and retreats with a knowing smile; after we FaceTime with Kai’s family so I can say hi to his mom and dad and brothers (who look so much like him, it’s adorable); after I promise them, and Kai, that I’ll come visit Hawaii soon; after Kai tells me that he’s going to CalArts in the fall, and we calculate the time difference between California and DC (only three hours!); after he carefully climbs into the hospital bed next to me, and we both doze off, and I wake up to his hand in mine, the clouds glowing pink through the window—later, after an afternoon that feels so full, it’s like an entire week has passed, a nurse comes in and says that visiting hours are almost over. Five minutes.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Kai says. “Rest up. Get a good sleep.”

  “I will. Let’s hang out more tonight, okay? In our dreams.”

  He smiles. “I’d like that. I’ll meet you at our hideout.”

  “The lava tubes. Good plan.”

  Gingerly, he sits up and scoots off the bed. “You’re really coming to Hawaii?” he asks. “Promise?”

  “Promise. You’re really going to CalArts?”

  “Yep. As long as you come visit.”

  “It’s a deal.” We shake on it. And then we kiss on it, too, for good measure.

  “I can’t wait to show you around Kona,” Kai says. “There’s so much I want to do with you.” He rattles off a list of activities—snorkeling, shave ice, hiking Akaka Falls, dinner at The Blue Oasis. I have the strangest sense that I’ve done these things with him recently.

  “It’s gonna be awesome,” Kai says. His smile is his grown-up self and his little-kid self, melded together.

  “Yeah,” I agree. My heart swells with excitement for the big wide-open future, for all the mysteries and magic waiting in store. “It’s gonna be The Best.”

  Acknowledgements

  Ever since I was a little girl, it has been my Big Dream to publish a novel. I am eternally grateful to my wonderful literary agent, Mark Gottlieb, for reading my query in the slush pile and being my champion every day since. Thank you to editor and publisher extraordinaire, Georgia McBride, for bringing Tegan and Kai’s story into the world and making my Big Dream come true. It has been a delight to work with the entire Month9Books team, especially Dr. Emily Midkiff, Jackie Dever, Danielle Doolittle, Jennifer Million, and Nicole Olea. Many thanks to my fellow Month9Books authors who have been so supportive of my journey as a debut novelist.

  As a writer, I have been fortunate to be nurtured by many encouraging mentors and teachers over the years. Thank you to Aimee Bender, Susan Segal, Richard Fliegel, James Ragan, and Viet Thahn Nguyen at the University of Southern California; Trezza Azzopardi at the University of East Anglia; Porter Shreve, Bich Minh Nguyen, Sharon Solwitz and Patricia Henley at Purdue University; and Paul Douglass and Nick Taylor at the Martha Heasley Cox Center for Steinbeck Studies at San Jose State University.

  Thank you to all of my teachers, classmates and friends from elementary school onward who have encouraged my writing over the years. Too many to name, but you know who you are!

  Thank you to my students and clients, who continually remind me of the joy and magic that comes from unleashing words onto the blank page. Special thanks to Lenore Pearson and Shana Lynn Schmidt, who have become my good friends—your brave vulnerability on the page is humbling and inspiring.

  Thank you to Jeffrey Dransfeldt for taking such lovely author headshots for me.

  A giant hug of gratitude to Connie Halpern and Mrs. Figs’ Bookworm. Connie, you are such a ray of sunshine for me, and for countless others!

  Thank you to the talented and generous authors Jennifer Niven, Anna-Marie McLemore, Vanessa Hua, Ken McAlpine, Natalie Lund, Tommy Mouton, Amberly Lago, Hilma Wolitzer and Carand Burnet. I feel so fortunate to call you my friends.

  Thank you to my family and to friends who have become family: Allyn McAuley, Laurel Shearer, Colin McAuley, Mary Blasquez, Ann Silvestri, Arianna Silvestri, Amanda Rackley, Julie Hein, Melissa Kaganovsky, Erica Roundy, Dana Boardman, Lauren Baran, Chidelia Edochie, Michael and Luana Swaidan, Ben Raynor, Tera Ragan, Shavonne Clarke, Tiffany Chiang, Wayne and Kathy Bryan, Tavis Smiley, Barry Kibrick, Julie Merrick, Rima Muna, Patti Post, Jess Ahoni, Justin and Fawn Nishioka, Alicia Stratton, Tania Sussman, Henry Fung, Joan Redding, Annette and Ron Schmidt, and all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins.

  Special thanks to my aunt Kym Woodburn King for her constant love and kindness. Thanks also to Grandma and Grandpap, Mary Lou and Gene Paschal, for making me feel like a best-selling author ever since I was a kid; and to Gramps, Dr. James Dallas Woodburn II, for all the phone calls, lunch dates, and stories.

  Boundless gratitude to my amazing mother-in-law, Barbara McAuley, for your fierce belief in me and my writing—and the countless hours of babysitting Maya so I can have time to write! And a big hug to my sister-in-law and favorite librarian, Allyson McAuley, whose opinion matters so much to me, and who has always treated my writing with such respect. Thank you for reading an early draft of this book and giving me invaluable feedback.

  Thank you to Holly Mueller, my wise friend and first reader, for all of the exclamation-point-filled emails cheering me on as I drafted this book, and for bein
g a listening ear during the long road to publication.

  I wrote this novel in memory of my dear friend Céline Lucie Aziz and my grandma Audrey Woodburn (Auden). My grandparents traveled to Hawaii often, up until Auden died when I was five. We scattered her ashes in the ocean. As a little girl, when I thought of Heaven, I always imagined my grandma relaxing on a beach in Hawaii. The Big Island is still the place I feel closest to her. The idea of a “Best Week” sprang into my mind after my treasured friend Céline passed away in a car accident at the age of 26. We had daydreamed about one day traveling to Hawaii together, but we never made it. Céline did spend time in Hawaii with her family shortly before she died. Hawaii is a place that has touched me deeply, in the same way it is a touchstone for Tegan in the book.

  To my brother Greg: thank you for being my best friend since the day you were born. Your wisdom keeps me grounded during the highs and lows of the journey, and your enthusiasm for life is contagious. Thank you for teaching me about patience and faith, and thank you for your open-hearted feedback on early drafts of this book.

  Thank you to my mom, Lisa, for your deep listening, for taking care of Maya so I could write, and for devouring the first draft of this book even though you don’t typically read YA. As Tegan says to her mom: “I love you infinity.”

  Thank you to my dad, Woody, for being my role model, my biggest fan and my favorite writing buddy. You inspired me to become a writer, and you have taught me to find joy in the creative process. One of my most treasured memories is when you called me after reading my first draft of this novel—you read it straight through in one sitting!—and told me how proud you were. Making you proud lights me up inside. Don’t ever forget!

  To my husband, Allyn: you are my anchor and my limitless blue sky. You are my hot malasada and the perfect halo-halo. Loving you is as steady and easy as the waves crashing endlessly onto the shoreline. Thank you for being the inspiration for Kai and Tegan’s love story. I am the luckiest.

  To my daughter, Maya: thank you for sparking a renewed sense of purpose and love for my work as a writer—and as a human being. Thank you for all of the Best Weeks you have already given me. I hope your Best Week is always yet to come.

  Dallas Woodburn

  Dallas Woodburn published her first book, There’s a Huge Pimple On My Nose, when she was in fifth grade… and she hasn’t stopped since! Her published books include the YA novel The Best Week That Never Happened; the YA short-story collection 3 a.m.; and the adult short-story collection Woman, Running Late, in a Dress. She has won numerous awards for her writing including the international Glass Woman Prize and the John Steinbeck Creative Writing Fellowship. A passionate champion of young writers, Dallas is the founder of Write On! Books, an organization that empowers youth through reading and writing endeavors, and is also editor of the book series Dancing With The Pen: a collection of today’s best youth writing. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her amazing husband, adorable daughter, and overflowing bookshelves. Connect with her at www.dallaswoodburnauthor.com.

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