Moonrise

by Sarah Crossan

  ‘Does it matter?’ I ask.

  ‘Does it really matter what he did?’

  and without waiting for an answer,

  I turn around and start running.

  THE NEWS REPORTS

  Philip Miller refuses to make a statement to the media,

  but speaking straight into the camera Al says,

  ‘I now have to go and speak with Mr Moon’s family.

  I wish someone at Governor McDowell’s office

  would tell me how I explain this to them.

  I doubt anyone could.

  In any case, all McDowell’s team

  are probably sound asleep.’

  A journalist explains

  that Ed’s body will remain at the farm

  until an autopsy has been carried out.

  Only then will he be released to us.

  But the autopsy

  won’t tell the truth –

  which is that my brother was

  murdered.

  BELONGINGS

  I collect Ed’s belongings,

  everything tossed untidily into a clear bag.

  The guard makes me sign something, then says,

  ‘Plenty of others deserved to go ahead of him,

  you know?’

  I nod politely

  as the warden saunters in.

  He gestures for the guard to leave us alone.

  ‘I wanted to say goodbye,’ Philip Miller says.

  ‘To give you this –’ he hands me a letter –

  ‘and also tell you I’m sorry.

  Not officially.

  But as a person.

  I’m sorry for what’s happened here,’ he says.

  He reaches forward

  but he’s out of his mind if he thinks

  I’m going to let him touch me.

  I step away

  and we watch one another.

  When he senses I’m not about to absolve him,

  he opens the door for me to leave, and I do,

  without another word.

  WHAT IS LEFT BEHIND

  There’s nothing unusual in the bag:

  a pair of Adidas high tops;

  tatty jeans, the knees faded;

  a fake TAG watch;

  a wallet with a Walmart card in it;

  one dollar and seventy-eight cents in change;

  a calendar with happy penguins on it,

  check marks counting down his last days

  and circled in red,

  August 18.

  I stuff everything back into the bag

  and reach into my pocket for the

  letter Philip Miller handed me.

  It’s Ed’s handwriting.

  His last letter.

  THE LAST LETTER

  Dear Joe and Ange,

  So,

  you left a half hour ago

  and I’m writing cos I

  haven’t much else to do.

  Al is here.

  We are waiting to hear from the governor.

  Could get the call real soon.

  It’s five after eleven now.

  I got Father Matthew here too.

  And he’s a good guy even though

  he smells like

  a bacon and frankincense sandwich.

  He keeps reading the Bible

  but I can’t concentrate on that stuff.

  Thing is,

  it’s real quiet here.

  I’m in a new cell next to the chamber.

  Just a bench.

  No bed or anything.

  And they don’t allow radios now.

  Thing is,

  I want you to know I’m OK.

  I mean,

  I’m scared.

  My hand’s wobbling a bit writing this

  but I’m OK.

  So,

  don’t worry about me,

  about how it was

  if it happens

  or what I’ve been through.

  Think about yourself. Take care of each other.

  I’m no poet so I don’t know how to say the hard stuff

  but I can still feel the hug you guys gave me

  before you left.

  I know I was sticking to you pretty tight

  but I wanted to remember it

  and I want you to feel that cling.

  You know,

  I reckon people sit here with a mountain of

  regrets

  but I haven’t got many.

  I’m here cos I was tired of being trapped

  and it didn’t work out great but I can’t say

  I’d change much,

  even after everything that’s happened.

  So,

  do all the stuff you want even

  if someone tries to deadlock your front door.

  Be brave about it.

  Open the back door at night

  and let in the noises, or hell,

  I don’t know, run, escape if you have to.

  If that’s the only way to live.

  And if someone tries to stop you,

  you tell them you can’t save anyone’s life

  but your own.

  OK,

  it’s almost time.

  Guards want to get me ready.

  So,

  I’m leaving for now.

  Thing is,

  if I write any more I might quote Oprah and

  NO ONE wants that!

  Al’s back actually.

  Hopefully it’s good news.

  Hope. Ha!

  And the thing is,

  if it’s not good news,

  at least I’m free.

  We all are.

  Love always. Always.

  Your brother – Ed xx

  THE PAIN

  I knew this day was around the corner,

  that I should have been prepared

  for the coughing,

  the heaving in my body,

  the tears

  that won’t stop,

  the scream

  I let out,

  the scream that fills up the apartment

  and makes Karen come running.

  ‘Joe?’

  I should be ready for this pain,

  but I’m not

  because I never believed

  that Ed would die.

  REMEMBERING

  Sue arrives with homemade moussaka,

  Nell with bottles of wine and water.

  No one eats but we drink a lot and talk,

  and I tell them about the time Ed dressed up

  as a snow queen for Halloween.

  He nearly gave Mom a seizure

  when she arrived home from work to see a

  six-foot-tall guy in drag

  standing in the middle of our kitchen

  frying liver in a pan.

  Angela laughs and says, ‘Ed loved to dress up.

  When you were real small he was Santa.

  You remember?

  He almost frightened you to death.

  And he forgot to bring a present!’

  ‘Of course I remember,’ I say,

  and for the rest of the night that’s what we do:

  we remember the Ed we knew.

  RELEASED

  They release Ed now they’re happy with how he died.

  Apparently it was cardiac arrest.

  That’s what the report says.

  TO HOUSTON

  Angela and Karen are already on the bus,

  pretending not to watch.

  ‘I like the idea of Columbia for college,’ Nell says,

  lightly punching my arm,

  ‘so I guess I’ll see you around New York sometime.

  Maybe I’ll cheerlead your track and field events …

  except I won’t.’

  ‘I’ll visit when I’ve got some money,’ I say.

  I open my backpack, pull out a large bottle of water.

  ‘Want this? I won’t be able to take it on the plane.’

  S
he hits me again and it hurts.

  ‘You romantic, Joe Moon.

  But you better keep it.

  It’s a few hours to Houston.

  I don’t want you dying of thirst.’

  The bus wheezes and spits.

  Angela raps on the window and waves.

  Nell smiles up at her.

  ‘You better go,’ she says.

  ‘Sue told me to leave

  as soon as this was over.

  I have to take her advice.’

  Nell waves me away. ‘I know you can’t stay.

  It’s just …’

  She bites her lips.

  ‘I know,’ I say.

  And I do. Of course I do.

  ‘But what about you? You and your dad?’

  She shrugs. ‘We’ll be fine,’ she says.

  I don’t reply.

  ‘We will,’ she insists.

  ‘Now get out of this shithole before it buries you!’

  BACK IN ARLINGTON

  The sky is bright blue,

  the sidewalks peppered with old bits of gum and

  cracked from years of carrying people.

  I go into our house,

  my bedroom,

  the place I used to share with Ed.

  My bed is made,

  but the blinds are shut,

  making it seem like night-time.

  Something glitters

  on the bookcase.

  I follow the glint.

  It’s a plastic, glow-in-the-dark

  crescent moon

  no wider than a dime.

  I hold it in the palm of my hand.

  The arc smiles up at me.

  I didn’t know I had this in here.

  It must have been Ed’s from years ago.

  I fold my fingers around the plastic piece

  and scan the room for other signs of moons or stars,

  Ed

  hidden in the everyday,

  burrowed away in my life forever.

  Because,

  hell,

  you never know

  what you might find in the dark.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I was fifteen years old when I first saw a 1987 BBC documentary called Fourteen Days in May about a man called Edward Earl Johnson, whose courage and dignity whilst on death row in Mississippi had a profound and lasting impact on me. Moonrise is, in so many ways, inspired by that brave film. It is also inspired by the lawyer representing Johnson at that time, Clive Stafford Smith, now the director of Reprieve and author of Injustice: Life and Death in the Courtrooms of America. I urge the reader to see Fourteen Days in May, if possible.

  I also encourage the reader to seek out Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson, a book about the American justice system, which hugely influenced this novel. Finally, please do check out the wonderful work done by the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI.org) for death row prisoners, as well as the many other men and women unfairly treated by the system.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  First and foremost, thank you to Maureen Price, my Religious Studies teacher at school, who forced her classes to watch Fourteen Days in May despite its devastating effect. She was right about how important it is. She also believed in me way back when, and that faith led to so much.

  This novel wasn’t easy to complete and would never have seen the light of day had it not been for Brian Conaghan, who read and gave feedback on every version of the project – I owe you so much. Nikki Sheehan, thank you for the inappropriately hilarious encouragement and professional advice.

  Thank you to my editors, Zöe Griffiths, Hannah Sandford and Helen Vick, for their patience and hard work, and to my publicist Emma Bradshaw as well as the entire children’s team at Bloomsbury – this has been a massive team effort and I love being on your team! Thank you to Julia Churchill, my agent, for it all.

  Thanks also to Repforce Ireland, Combined Media, The Big Green Bookshop, CLPE, Children’s Books Ireland, CILIP, David O’Callaghan, Hélène Ferey and all my friends and family for being bloody fabulous.

  Grace and Tippi don’t like being stared and sneered at, but they’re used to it. They’re conjoined twins – united in blood and bone. What they want is to be looked at in turn, like they truly are two people. They want real friends. And what about love? But a heart-wrenching decision lies ahead for Tippi and Grace. One that could change their lives more than they ever asked for …

  Nicu is so not Jess’s type. He’s all big eyes and ill-fitting clothes, eager as a puppy, even when they’re picking up litter in the park for community service.

  Appearances matter to Jess. She has a lot to hide. Nicu shouldn’t even be looking at her. His parents are planning his marriage to a girl he’s never met back home in Romania. But he wants to work hard, do better, stay here. As they grow closer, their secrets surface like bruises. And as the world around them grows more hostile, the only safe place Jess and Nicu have is with each other.

  When Apple’s mother returns after eleven years away, Apple feels whole again. She will have an answer to her burning question – why did you go? But just like the stormy Christmas Eve when she left, her mother’s homecoming is bitter sweet. It’s only when Apple meets someone more lost than she is, that she begins to see things as they really are.

  Armed with a suitcase and an old laundry bag,

  Kasienka and her mother head for England.

  Life is lonely for Kasienka. At home her mother’s

  heart is breaking; at school friends are scarce.

  But when someone special swims into her life,

  Kasienka learns that there might be more

  than one way for her to stay afloat.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sarah Crossan has lived in Dublin, London and New York, and now lives in Hertfordshire. She graduated with a degree in Philosophy and Literature before training as an English and Drama teacher at Cambridge University. Sarah Crossan won the 2016 Carnegie Medal, the YA Book Prize, the CBI Irish Children’s Book Award and many other prizes for her novel, One.

  sarahcrossan.com @SarahCrossan.

  PRAISE FOR

  SARAH CROSSAN

  One

  Winner of the CILIP Carnegie Medal

  Winner of the YA Book Prize

  Winner of the CBI Book of the Year Award

  Winner of the CLiPPA Poetry Award

  Winner of the Children’s Choice Award

  ‘One broke my heart and mended it’

  Cecilia Ahern

  ‘Tremendously moving and there will be tears’

  Toby Clements, Telegraph

  ‘One of the most powerful as well as the most unusual novels of the year’

  Independent on Sunday

  ‘An inspiring and beautiful book’

  Irish Examiner

  ‘It will shake up preconceptions and move readers to tears’

  Sunday Times, Children’s Book of the Week

  ‘Truly remarkable’

  Irish Times

  ‘The best book I’ve read in years. It’s a spectacular testament to love.

  It blows your head back’

  Katherine Rundell

  ‘Page after page resonates with exact observation and lyrical awareness. So, how come it has space and light in it too? How does it manage to be a page-turner and also leave room for the reader to imagine beyond the story? Perhaps because it’s written by a very good writer indeed.

  I urge you to read this book. Seduction guaranteed’

  Jenny Downham

  ‘A heartbreaking and beautiful exploration of how closely one’s own identity is entwined with the lives of those we love’

  Non Pratt

  ‘In short: brilliant. It’s truly amazing’

  Brian Conaghan

  ‘Quite simply an achingly sad and beautiful story about what makes any of us human’

  Telegraph

  ‘Both lyrical and accessible, this book will draw you in and break your heart. Sara
h Crossan’s writing is incredible, and One is simply stunning’

  Robin Stevens

  ‘So perfect it hurt to read. A beautiful, lyrical love story for our time. A definite future classic’

  Nikki Sheehan

  ‘This is a strikingly brave, sensitive and unusual book that packs such a powerful emotional punch, I defy anyone not to weep at the end’

  Daily Mail

  Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Oxford, New York, New Delhi and Sydney

  First published in Great Britain in September 2017 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  This electronic edition published in July 2017

  50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

  www.bloomsbury.com

  BLOOMSBURY is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  Copyright © Sarah Crossan 2017

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  Hardback ISBN 978 1 4088 6780 8

  Export ISBN 978 1 4088 7843 9

  eISBN 978 1 4088 6782 2

  To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com. Here you will find extracts, author interviews, details of forthcoming events and the option to sign up for our newsletters.