It was going to be awfully weird to go back to her house and wake up tomorrow in her old life.
“Sarabeth, can I sleep over tonight?” Teena asked. “You know, since my house blew up and everything.”
Sarabeth grinned. “Olivia Lewis would love to have you,” she said. “Probably more than she’d like to have me.”
Leo slung an arm around her waist. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and, with a look at Teena, added, “No offense, Teena.”
Teena cuddled into Evan, who looked down at her. “So, Sarabeth’s house? Is Cameron going to be there?” He clearly was teasing her and not actually jealous.
“I don’t see why you guys can’t be there, too,” Teena said. “Sarabeth has a basement with an outdoor entry, you know.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “That sounds tempting,” he said. “But tonight I’m going to have a beer with my old man.”
Sarabeth loved her boyfriend.
She loved her friends.
She loved her life.
Her next journal entry would be titled, Today is the first day of the rest of my life and here is what I’m going to do with it.
But she’d work on that later. For now, she looked at her three friends and said, “So, what happens when we get back to school? Are we friends now, or what?”
Teena rolled her eyes.
“We’ll have to see about that later,” she said, clearly joking. “But give it a rest. Today’s a holiday, remember?”
So, you’re probably waiting for the inspirational song to kick in over the final credits. Sorry, soundtracks are just so pricey nowadays.
But how about a parting lesson? Everyone loves a good parting lesson.
It’s like the old saying goes, “Be cool to people you don’t think you need to be cool to, because one day that person might just save your ass.”
And even if ass-saving never enters the picture, we’re always looking for a few open-minded, able-bodied young people to keep the skies friendly. The coffee’s free, twenty-four hours a day.
Don’t call us, we’ll call you.
Sincerely,
Your Friends at IHOP
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Funny thing about writing acknowledgments: You get to write them when you’re all done writing the actual book. So, here I am, in victory-lap mode, and I’m so grateful and happy I sort of want to run down the most crowded street I can find, planting double-cheek kisses on everyone I meet. I guess it would be bad if you caught me on those couple of days somewhere toward the middle of writing the book, when I think every sentence I pen is utter drivel and I spend hours at my desk without typing a word worth keeping. Then, I’m an evil curmudgeon who just begrudges everyone in the universe for having more fun than me. “You called a plumber to fix your overflowing toilet? Grrrr. And I’m stuck here. Grrrr. Again.” So, to anyone who may have been a victim of my scowly face, I’m sorry. I’m actually a very nice person.
I’m lucky to have worked with some really wonderful people who make awesome company, post-alien invasion or anytime. Thanks to everyone at Alloy Entertainment, especially Josh Bank and Sara Shandler for always believing in The End of the World As We Know It, and most especially two very special and lovely women: Joelle Hobeika, so instrumental in helping the book’s unlikely heroes assemble, and Emilia Rhodes, who kept her mind on the mission, helped the funny bits be funnier, and made sure that saving the world felt like a really big deal.
My brother Bill Palmer makes spectacularly entertaining films, and I was lucky enough to have his thoughtful notes on an early draft of this book. My agent, Fonda Snyder, helps keep me sane when sanity isn’t my natural state. My in-laws, Steve and Mary Stanis, are due thanks for headquartering the Chicago chapter of my unofficial fan club.
My parents, Bill and Debra Palmer, have always been the kind of parents teenagers in YA books wish they had (and never do). None of my crazy schemes and dreams ever sounded too crazy to them, and they instilled in me enough wherewithal to work hard and never give up. (And, when I was just nine years old—long before I ever thought someone would pay me to write—they actually did when they bought several of my original works for a dollar each. I definitely overcharged them.)
This book is dedicated to two of my favorite people in the universe. My son, Clark, is not quite two and laughs in the face of childproofing, and while his unique brand of chaos might seem counterproductive to the writing process, I love every anxiety-addled, sleep-deprived second of being his mom. Clark, you are without compare.
Finally, my husband, Steve Stanis, is the one I’d want by my side in any adventure (and who’s already been by my side for so many.) He’d make one badass alien fighter—and a quippy one, too, which in my ranking rates higher even than badass. Steve, you are my ideal love on this or any other planet.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Iva-Marie Palmer grew up in Chicago’s South Suburbs, and—despite her educators’ best efforts—she could never remember what Casimir Pulaski did to get a holiday until she researched it for this book. Now she lives with her husband and son in Los Angeles, where there are no three-day weekends for Mr. Pulaski, but since there are also no –11-degree days (before wind chill), she makes do. She loves books, Disneyland, food sold off carts and trucks, John Hughes movies and Joss Whedon everything, books, old movie palaces, shiny shoes, crossword puzzles, drivers who do the little wave thing when you let them in your lane of traffic, vending machines that sell odd items, books, non-life-threatening adventures, and roadside attractions. You can find her online on Facebook, Twitter (follow @ivamarie), and http://ivamariepalmer.com. Come visit, and she’ll wish you a happy Casimir Pulaski Day.
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © Alloy Entertainment 2014
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4714-0254-8
This eBook was produced using Atomik ePublisher
www.hotkeybooks.com
Hot Key Books is part of the Bonnier Publishing Group
www.bonnierpublishing.com
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