by Claire Kann
The applause for Winston outshone all of the other contestants. People got up out of their seats, stomped their feet, hooted, hollered, and whistled for him. They congratulated me and Sam, crowded around us, wanting to be a part of something truly special in the making. They all felt it. This was extraordinary. Winston was so young and already extraordinary.
I don’t know what made me turn my head, but I did. Granny stood with Mr. Livingston on the edge of the tent. Watching me. Not Winston or Sana or the stage. Just me.
At the end of every summer, I left Misty Haven aching to come back as soon as possible because I thought it had always felt like home. It had never been the town.
It had been my granny. I came here because it’s where she wanted to be. Along the way I’d found Kara, then Dallas, and when I left here this year, I’d be taking them with me. But not Granny.
In the fall I’d start college with Kara, email my parents every day to annoy them into remembering how much I loved them, make plans to have Sam and Winston come visit me, and stay up too late talking on the phone with Dallas. I’d go to class and learn all the things, get a part-time job, and explore my new city every chance I could.
I didn’t have a space for her. I didn’t know if I even had the will to make space. My heart broke with the truth of it. We were done. Maybe not forever. Maybe not even a week.
A bittersweet good-bye and a necessary one.
“Well,” Sana said, voice slightly raised to get the crowd’s attention. “It seems there is a clear crowd favorite.”
Winston, usually so stoic and surly, beamed on that stage. He belonged there.
“And now for our winners.” Sana waved a red envelope.
And in a handful of moments, everything came crashing down.
Kara’s gluten-free ultimate brownie waffles version 7.0 won first place in the sweet category, but she didn’t win the grand prize.
Winston had won second place, losing to Colin’s smothered chicken fried steak.
I knew I had cameras trained on me, so I didn’t react at all. I kept my eyes on Winston, holding on to that unstoppable feeling of pride I had for him.
“Before we wrap up,” Sana began, “I have one last thing to say. I lied.”
Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“I said there would be two first-place winners and one grand-prize winner, which was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth,” she said. “One of the reasons I created this show was in hopes of finding and rewarding undiscovered talent. It’s not just a spotlight on the towns we select, but also the people within it. Small Town Spotlight with Sana Starlight’s biggest secret, never announced to the press, is the existence of ten scholarships to be awarded to young people who demonstrate unparalleled potential.
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think we’d find someone quite so soon, and when I found out how old this contestant was, I demanded to see the cooking footage to ensure they didn’t have any assistance while creating their dish.”
It was Kara or Winston. It had to be. Everyone else was older.
I couldn’t breathe.
“I am proud to present the very first Sana Starlight Culinary Scholarship to”—she paused, walking toward the top five—“Winston Woodson.” She grabbed his hands and raised his arm in the air in triumph.
I didn’t remember running onstage, but the footage I watched later didn’t lie. Me, in a tutu dress and crown, hugging my brother for dear life, who held me just as tight. Kara, Sam, and Dallas right next to us.
Forty
Kara volunteered to drive me to the airport. Dallas volunteered to go along for the ride. In between was me, emotional from Winston’s victory and desperate to not have to say good-bye. She pulled into Goldeen’s front parking lot and parked off to the side. “So do we go in? Should I honk?”
“I’ll message him.” Winston had decided to leave with me. Sam would stay another two weeks to fulfill her babysitting obligations because she didn’t want to disappoint her families.
“It’s really packed tonight.” Dallas gestured toward Goldeen’s.
“It usually is after the carnival. People mostly come in for drinks and to sit and talk. Deonna’s is probably super crowded right now.” Inside I could see Layla and Victoria taking orders. I think JR zoomed by the podium on his way to the kitchen. “I hope there’s enough staff to cover the floor.”
It’s like Granny had said: Goldeen’s existed just fine for the nine months that I wasn’t there. The neon sign, Goldeen’s written in perfect looping cursive, turned on at sundown every night. Its doors opened and closed on time, people ate its delicious food, the staff worked their shifts and took care of any mishaps like fires and flooding.
Goldeen’s didn’t need me.
“Why are you crying?” Dallas’s hands flew to my face, catching my tears. “What’s wrong?”
“What?” Kara whipped around in the driver’s seat.
“I don’t know. My eyes just started leaking,” I wailed, pushing his hands away and covering my face. But I did know. Saying it out loud would make things worse. Goldeen’s didn’t need me. Granny didn’t need me. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just had a moment. That’s all.”
Kara handed me a small pack of tissues. “You’re allowed to be sad about this.”
“I know.”
“She’ll come around.”
“Maybe.”
Kara reached out, placing a hand on my knee, and squeezed. Dallas wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
“This is weird and amazingly comforting.” I blew my nose.
“We love you. So.” She thought about it. “Well, I love you. I can’t speak for him. Oh, here they come.”
Winston and Sam walked toward us while talking to each other. I got out of the car, walking around it to open the trunk. “You got everything?”
“Yep.” Winston put his suitcase in the trunk. “Shotgun?”
“Yeah, you’re with me,” Kara called through the rolled-down window. “You can’t touch my music.”
“You have the worst taste.” He rolled his eyes. “If I have to listen to one more girl croak about post–high school ennui—”
“What review did you steal that line from?” I laughed.
“Don’t insult my music!”
“I’ll do whatever I want. Try and stop me.” Winston opened the door, sitting inside. “I was this close to winning, and I just started cooking two years ago. Imagine—”
Sam tugged on my jacket, drawing my attention.
I smiled at her. “Are you going to be okay?”
“My dad thinks it’s a good idea for me to stay to keep her company.” Sam nodded. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but she’s upset, too. Are you going to say good-bye?”
I looked at Goldeen’s. My gaze drifted to the right corner, to the apartment upstairs.
During the Sana Starlight contest, when I saw her, when she looked at me, I felt in my soul she was waiting for me to apologize. She was waiting for me to ask to come home.
In my heart, I knew she would’ve said yes.
In my heart, I knew I couldn’t let myself ask.
All my life people have told me that I take after her—we had the same temper, same eyes, same stubborn streak, same dream, same ability to hold grudges to the point of absurdity. But I wasn’t her.
I was Winnie. Until she recognized that, our unsaid good-byes would always live between us.
“Nope.” I gave Sam a hug, holding on for so long she started laughing.
“It’s only two weeks! I’ll see you soon.”
“But I’m gonna miss you so much.” I pretended to cry, overexaggerating my whines. She loved it. When I finally let go, I stood back, placing my hands on her shoulders. “Message me if you need me?”
“I will.”
“Or if you want to just talk?”
“I will.”
“Or if—”
“Let’s gooooo.” Winston hung out of the window, already in
the car. “Save that for when you leave for college.”
“Or I could just do it twice.”
“Whatever.”
“All right,” I said to Sam. “I love you, Goddess.”
“Love you, too.”
Back in the car, I put on my seat belt. Dallas grabbed my hand the second the seat belt clicked, as if he’d been waiting. Ridiculous.
I loved it.
I kissed the back of his hand and then held it to my chest. Our impending airport good-bye would be temporary, resetting every time I answered the phone when he called.
“Are we ready?” Kara asked. I would see her every day once we started college. No good-byes there either.
“Ready.”
I waved at Sam as we drove away, at Goldeen’s and all of the people inside who couldn’t see me, at the tiny apartment in the right corner, and at the sign as we passed it:
THANK YOU FOR VISITING MISTY HAVEN! WE HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON!
Acknowledgments
And so, here we are again.
I wish I had a hilarious and insightful micro-story to cram in here about the creation of this book, but I don’t. Not really. When my debut novel came out (ha!), I promised myself I would learn how to be more present online. You know, make friends, network, and market LTAL like an entrepreneur with a felony-proof Ponzi scheme in my back pocket. I lied. I failed. You still can’t really find me anywhere. Reply to emails (on time)? Reply to tweets and be engaging? Post Candid yet Photogenic Selfie Attempt #72 on Instagram? Me!?
It’s just not realistic. But I do see and appreciate you all.
My first thank-you belongs to Readers—those who’ve read LTAL and/or my Wattpad books. Those who’ve shared my work with their friends or posted about it online. Those who’ve taken the time to write wonderful and heartfelt letters and emails that made me cry at two in the morning. And those who’ve never said a word to me or anyone else about the comfort and hope they found through Alice’s story. I was able to keep going this year and not give up on everything because of you all.
Right beside readers, thank you to librarians, booksellers, teachers, bloggers, and vloggers who’ve read and ordered my books, pushed them into the hands of those readers, and hyped my work to their colleagues and on their platforms. There are copies of LTAL all over the world in bookstores and airports and libraries—libraries! One of my biggest dreams I thought would never happen. Y’all did that, and my gratitude is unyielding and eternal. Hopefully one day, my brain will find some chill, and I’ll be able to talk to you.
To the Swoon Reads/MacKids Books team: thank you for giving me a job and believing I could do it successfully. I like being employed. It’s kind of cool. Jean, Lauren, Kat, and Emily, all of the editors, Swoonterns, assistants, designers, sales and marketing teams, and everyone whose name I don’t know yet but will in the future. And a super extra-special thank you to Liz Dresner, who has designed both of my Swoon covers with care and compassion.
Thank you to everyone who made 2018 memorable and enjoyable in the face of a gross amount of pain and anguish, particularly:
Tuna & Jonghyun—I will never, ever forget you.
Mom, Dad, Teasha, Mikee, and the rest of my family
Sarah, Nikkiee & Nes, Allie & Nia
SHINee & Shawols
Kevin M., Jason A. & Megan B.
Alysha D’Souza & Samantha Pennington
Ariel Klontz, Jandra Sutton, Mikaela Bender
Leah & Julia
Mariah, Ali, Moriah, Peyton, Jordan, Ariana, Liz, Kelly, Rachel
The Electric Eighteens
Becky Albertalli, Julie Murphy, Amy Spalding, Rebekah Weatherspoon & their books
Lydia & Alex & Vicky & Shani & Kristen & Cat & Lillie & Jessika & Aiden & Katy & Kim & Olivia H. & Tiana & Nikki & Karole & L.E. & Maggie & Tiffany & Kristy & Jennifer & Kate & Melinda & Olivia W. & Dee & Danielle & Jenn & Shannon & Shana & Hanna & Samantha & Prerna & Bethany & Caitlin & Natalie & Danika & Devon & Jen & Sandy—you know why <3
And lastly, Anna & Macy for saving my literary bacon time and time again. I’d be lost without you.
My blanket thank-you for this time is for anyone who was ever kind to me, especially when I was less than nice to them.
Until next time,
Claire <3
About the Author
CLAIRE KANN hails from the glorious Bay Area, where the weather is regrettably not nearly as temperate as it used to be. She has a BA in English/creative writing from Sonoma State University, works for a nonprofit that you may have heard of where she daydreams like she’s paid to do it, and dislikes snow and summer. This is her second novel, following Let’s Talk About Love.
Visit her online at clairekann.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 by Annie Camill Clark
A Swoon Reads Book
An imprint of Feiwel and Friends and Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010
swoonreads.com
All rights reserved.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
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First hardcover edition 2019
eBook edition June 2019
eISBN 9781250192684