“Malibu? Poor him,” Andy says. “What a horrible, horrible punishment.”
“No, seriously, his aunt is some kind of cop and his uncle is a bodyguard for rich people. I bet they’re paying his uncle to keep an eye on him.” Mikaela reaches over and steals a chocolate-chip cookie out of Andy’s lunch. He tries to smack her hand away and misses.
David smiles faintly. “Remember how he used to drive us around all the time? Before he crashed the car, I mean. Even all the way out to Melrose. Good times.”
“Ah, he’ll still be an asshole even at private school,” Becca says, winking at me. “He’ll just be a rich private school asshole.”
“But he was our asshole,” Mikaela says with a forlorn sigh. We all stare at her. The corner of my mouth twitches, and then I dissolve into helpless laughter. Even the super-serious Andy looks like he’s trying to fight a case of the giggles.
“Okay,” I say, finally getting myself under control. “Now, wait, he emailed you? What else did he say? So help me, I’m curious.”
“Well, not much. He claims he’s going to ‘work his connection’ with that Wiccan coven thing he’s always going on about, but I think it’s just that he has a crush on that chick with the cloak. The one from the solstice party. I’m pretty sure she isn’t interested in a high school junior, unless she has a thing for little boys.”
“Ew.”
“No kidding. Hmm,” Mikaela says musingly, “I wonder if they’ve ever had hot and horny witch sex in the woods?”
“Oh, gross, you have to shut up,” Becca says, throwing a handful of corn chips at Mikaela.
“You’re always throwing food! Children are starving,” Mikaela retorts, grinning evilly. I wonder if she really is over Cody or if she’s putting on an act. I wonder if she’s going to keep in touch with him. Email him. Call him.
“Well, I’ve lost my appetite thanks to that mental image,” Becca says.
“Yeah, I think we need to change the subject,” I say.
“Oh, fine. Prudes, all of you.” Mikaela gets up and wanders around the table, stopping to look over David’s shoulder. “Hey, this is good. Really good.”
Andy leans over. “Nice, dude.” He looks up at me.
“What?” I frown.
Andy shrugs. “You should show her.”
David turns the sketchbook around to face me. He looks away, smiling a little, but his ears are red.
Inside is a tiny portrait. Of me. I mean, it’s clearly supposed to be me, but I’m not that … wistful-looking. Am I? It looks like David’s been working on it for a while, and I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what.
“Yes, you look like that, Sunny honey,” Mikaela says.
“Like what?” I ask, suspiciously.
“Gorgeous, silly.” She circles the table and grabs my shoulders and gives them an annoying shake, then a quick hug. “You’re, like, the Queen of Sunshine.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Is she joking?
“It means I am wildly jealous that Da Vinci here drew a portrait of you. He never draws portraits of any of us. Just sketches us in awkward lunchtime situations.” Mikaela lets go of my shoulders and prances around, flitting her hands like they’re little fairy wings and singing, “La la la! Queen of Sunshine!” In her ripped purple tights, knee-high black boots, short skirt, and “Not all who wander are lost” T-shirt, she looks completely ridiculous.
“If you’re trying to imitate me, you’re failing miserably.” It’s so unlike me—really, Queen of Sunshine?—that I start laughing helplessly.
For some reason, I think about the old me then, with her bleached-blond hair, her “safe” group of swim team friends and nobody she really felt close to. I feel sad for her, really sad. Mikaela whirls dizzyingly around a tree, whooping, and I remember Shiri and me as little kids, running around the backyard in pillowcase capes and shrieking with giggles—Wonder Nerd and Super Dork.
We’ll always have yesterday … and today, and tomorrow.
Shiri left me more than that. Grief, confusion, anger. Maybe even underhearing, though I may never know for sure. And I’ve spent so much time remembering the yesterdays I can never get back. So much time wasted, when it’s today that’s really important.
That’s not me anymore, though. Yes, some things are worth fighting to keep. But some things you have to let go.
I take the pen out of my hair, and Mikaela’s blank book out of my bag.
In the middle of the first page, like a title, I write: TOMORROW. And then I turn to the next page and start writing.
Author’s Note
Like far too many others, my life has been affected by the suicide of someone close to me. I’m also no stranger to the battle with depression and despair. These issues are serious, and social stigma can make it even more difficult to talk about it when we are hurting. Don’t hesitate to reach out for help if you need it, whether it’s you or a loved one who is suffering. There are resources out there to help teens (and adults) cope with depression, suicide, and other crises. These are just a few:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-TALK (8255)
The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline provides free and confidential emotional support to people in suicidal crisis or emotional distress 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
National Alliance of the Mentally Ill
1 (800) 950-NAMI (6264)
Their toll-free, confidential hotline operates Mon-Fri, 10 am
–6 pm EST, and provides information, referrals, and support to anyone with questions about mental illness. You can reach them via email at [email protected].
Safe Place
1-888-290-7233
Project Safe Place provides access to immediate help and re-
sources for young people in crisis. Call the hotline to find out if the program operates in your state, or look online.
http://nationalsafeplace.org/
TXT 4 HELP
Project Safe Place operates their TXT 4 HELP service nation-
wide. If you’re in trouble or need help, text SAFE and your current location (address/city/state) to 69866 and the operators will connect you to the closest location where you can get immediate help and safety.
Society for the Prevention of Teen Suicide
The mission of the SPTS is to reduce the number of youth suicides and attempted suicides by encouraging overall public awareness. Their website includes resources for teens, parents, and educators.
http://www.sptsusa.org/
The Trevor Project
866-4-U-TREVOR
The Trevor Project is a nationwide, around-the-clock crisis and suicide prevention helpline for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and questioning (LGBTQ) youth. The Trevor Helpline is available as a resource to parents, family members, and friends of young people as well.
http://www.TheTrevorProject.org
Acknowledgments
Writing is a solitary activity, but this novel wouldn’t have come to be without help, encouragement, feedback, and friendship.
First things first, though.
In 1998, my stepcousin Janet took her own life. She was twenty-four years old. I was twenty-one. Many of my experiences of working through grief, sadness, confusion, and depression have found their way into this book.
I’m pretty sure this book never would have gotten finished at all if it hadn’t been for my writing group: Yat-Yee Chong, Tanita Davis, Kelly Herold, Anne Levy, Jennifer March Soloway, and JoNelle Toriseva. You are all amazing friends, dedicated writers, and wonderful companions to have on this journey. Special thanks to Tanita, who has probably had to listen to more of my griping and exasperation than anyone else (and who has always been there for last-minute advice), and to Jennifer, who has given me many pep talks and has always believed in this story.
Other readers have weighed in along the way, too. Par-
ticular thanks to Mike Adams for som
e very revealing insights into Sunny’s underhearing, and to Katie Sinclair for helping me with swim race details.
Thanks to my agent Jennifer Laughran for being there at the exact right time to help this one out into the world; to my editor at Flux, Brian Farrey-Latz, for being the perfect combination of friend, advocate, sounding board, and editor; and to everyone else at Flux for making this latest project a reality and for believing in my work. Lastly, thanks to the Green Gulch Farm Zen Center and Margaret Speaker Yuan and Colette Weil Parrinello of the SCBWI North/East Bay for providing the perfect environment for a writing (and editing) retreat.
Thanks to my husband, Rob, for everything: reading and giving feedback; listening to me gripe, panic, and/or think out loud; taking care of countless extra meals and chores; and giving me time and space and understanding and love.
And thanks to everyone who had faith in this project, even when I didn’t. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like you’re going to make it, but you just have to keep telling yourself, don’t give up.
Lee R. Bailey
About the Author
Sarah Jamila Stevenson is a writer, artist, graphic designer, introvert, closet geek, good eater, struggling blogger, lapsed piano player, ukulele noodler, household-chore-ignorer, and occasional world traveler. Her first novel was The Latte Rebellion. She lives in Northern California with her husband and two cats. Visit her online at www.SarahJamilaStevenson.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Information
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Sseventeen
eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Underneath Page 25
