On a clear May afternoon, Becca, Caleb, Leo, and I hung out in Becca’s backyard. It was the spring of the seventeen-year cicadas. They had been around when I was a baby, so this was technically the first time I had really seen them. I found them fascinating. In appearance, they would have made perfect horror-movie specimens: about three inches long, with translucent, green wings and glowing red eyes. Their feet were covered with sticky pads, and if one landed on you it might stay and just hang out, not flit away like scaredy bugs. It was incredible to think they lay dormant underground for seventeen years. Then they climbed their way out, leaving behind a trail of cocoony things on the trees and a layer of bugs on the ground so thick you had to shuffle your way through them so you wouldn’t crush their newly freed bodies. And the noise they made was deafening. Like a UFO landed somewhere nearby and hovered as it picked up people for experiments.
There definitely was a movie or two to be made out of this.
Caleb’s beagle waddled around, his belly distended after consuming more than his share of the tasty bugs, three of which rested on my arm. I examined them, and asked, “Do you think they dreamed?”
“Hmmm?” Becca mused as she rested her head on Caleb’s lap, and he stroked her newly growing hair.
“For seventeen years. Do you think they dreamed underground for seventeen years?” I clarified.
“Do any bugs dream?” Caleb asked.
“It’s so sad. To wake up and die so soon after,” Becca said.
“I bet it’s really fucking awesome for those couple of weeks when they’re awake, though,” Leo noted.
“Maybe they spend seventeen years dreaming about what they want to do during their minuscule lives.” I smiled at the thought of bug dreams. Then something came to me. “Hey, Becca. I wonder if they have bucket lists.”
“A bug-it list!” She laughed.
“That was so not funny,” I said. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
I shook my arm, and the three bugs lazily flew away, on their way to accomplish great things in a short amount of time. Really, how we all should try to live our lives. No matter how long we’ve got.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cylon Basestar–sized thanks go out to the following people: Allyx Davison, for letting me into your life and showing me I need to upgrade my video game knowledge.
Becky Britt, for introducing me to Allyx, and your sincerity and thoughts.
Dale Davison, for the online time line of Allyx’s treatment on CaringBridge.com. It was more helpful than any book or Web site in keeping my character’s journey on track.
Eastman, Jack, and Al, for always answering my questions.
Jean, for the wonderful bucket list spark; Anna, for the lengthy editorial phone fun; Liz, for her glorious editorial prowess; Rich, April, Dave, Ksenia, and all of the other wonderful people at my publisher, Feiwel and Friends; and my agent, Rosemary Stimola, for her guidance and pumpkins.
My mom, for all of her support, love, and being the best grandma ever.
And Matt and Romy, who start each day with a hilarious, human alarm clock and end each day with snuggles and songs. Thank you for holding me up when way too many chips are down.
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS Book An Imprint of Macmillan THE F-IT LIST. Copyright © 2013 by Julie Halpern. All rights reserved. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available ISBN: 978-1-250-02565-4 (hardcover) / 978-1-466848498 (ebook) Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto First Edition: 2013
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